Insomniac Player

Jeremy Choo stopped moving.

The agricultural map continued rotating between them. Numbers shifted, freight lines pulsed, and projected harvest values updated. Jeremy remained perfectly still.

"One hundred million???" he repeated.

"Yes."

"Gold Coins??"

"That was the unit."

Jeremy removed his glasses. He looked at the lenses, though nothing was on them, and put them back on.

"I need you to understand that professional confidentiality prevents me from discussing your finances. It does not prevent me from refusing a joke."

John placed both hands on the table. "He is serious."

"Are you funding it?"

"Mostly."

"Does ’mostly’ mean you have verified access to one hundred million liquid gold coins, or does it mean you own property and equipment you believe can be sold for that amount?"

John opened a proof-of-funds request.

The system verified balances without revealing the exact accounts. A gold seal appeared above the table.

➤[Funding capacity verified.]

➤[Maximum proposed allocation: 100,000,000 Gold Coins.]

Jeremy stared at the seal.

His professional expression developed a visible crack.

"You actually have it."

John’s mustache rose. "I said we did."

"People say many things in consultations. Last week a client claimed to control three silver mines. He owned three decorative stones."

"Were they attractive?"

"That was not relevant."

"Rahul would disagree."

Damien returned the conversation to the contract. "How much can be deployed before the patch?"

Jeremy looked at the countdown and then at the world map.

"Not all of it responsibly. A hundred million purchase program is not an order. It is a market event. Even divided across regions, the volume will trigger Class senses, exchange alerts, and automatic pricing systems."

"How much?"

"I do not know yet."

"Estimate."

"Between fifty and seventy million in physical corn and storage commitments before the deadline, provided suitable stock exists and sellers cooperate. The remainder must cover property, transport, inspections, preservation contracts, transaction fees, and emergency liquidity."

John’s smile faded slightly. "Transaction fees?"

"Money charges money for moving."

"That is offensive."

"It is also older than the system."

Jeremy expanded the draft agreement. His commission appeared as a percentage of capital successfully deployed, with limits on subcontractor costs and no performance bonus tied to post-disaster prices.

Damien read it twice.

"Why no performance bonus?"

"Because a bonus based on rising food prices would pay me more when more people suffered."

John looked at Damien. "We definitely hired the argumentative one."

"That was deliberate."

Jeremy made three changes to the agreement. First, no property purchase would proceed without a system-certified structural and preservation inspection. Second, no corn would be accepted without proof of physical existence and ownership. Third, no single subcontractor would know more than 5% of the total operation.

"I also require independent authority to reject purchases showing signs of criminal ownership, false inventory, or artificial price inflation," he said.

"Approved," Damien replied.

"I wasn’t asking only you."

John grunted. "Approved."

Jeremy closed the draft.

"Give me a few hours."

"How many?" Damien asked.

"Four. I need to identify available storage, inspect the exchange depth, contact certified teams, and determine how to allocate capital without announcing the strategy. Do not make any large agricultural purchases while I work."

"We haven’t funded the account yet."

"Good. Keep it that way until I return with the final contract."

The projection began to fade. Jeremy stopped it for one last question.

"Who else knows about the prediction?"

"The Nova Corps, two trusted allies, and senior government leadership."

"That number of people is already sufficient for a secret to spread."

"The fields may develop legs first," John said.

Jeremy looked at him for two seconds, perhaps deciding whether the comment deserved a response.

"Four hours," he repeated, and disconnected.

The agricultural map vanished.

Silence returned to the lounge.

John leaned back and released a long sigh.

"There are moments," he said, "when I miss the Tutorial."

Damien looked at him. "A wolf ate you."

"Yes, but the wolf did not charge transaction fees."

The verified funding seal still floated above the table. One hundred million gold coins was a number Damien understood mathematically and not emotionally. His own several thousand gold coins had already felt substantial. It could pay the first sanctuary fee several times, purchase equipment, and keep him comfortable for years.

John was preparing to place almost one hundred million beside it because Damien had interpreted four lines on a parchment.

"You don’t have to do that," Damien said.

John gave him a flat look. "You asked how much liquid gold I have before you asked whether I should spend it."

"I’m correcting the order."

"Too late."

"The prediction could be wrong."

"Yes."

"The system could replace every destroyed crop."

"Yes."

"We could lose most of it."

"Damien, I understood the word ’risk’ before Jeremy displayed it in four colors."

John stood and walked to the windows. Below them, the city continued its normal afternoon. Delivery drones crossed the roads. Restaurants advertised meals. Nobody looking upward knew that two men inside the tower were considering purchasing enough corn to feed cities.

"Five years before the System," John said, "I would have traded everything I owned for one more year with my son. Money refused the bargain."

Damien said nothing.

"Now money can buy food before a disaster. It can protect the orphanage where you grew up. It can give Elias reserves that the Neva Order does not control." John looked over one shoulder. "And perhaps it can become more money. I am not offended by that part."

"You’re sure?"

"No."

The answer surprised Damien.

John smiled without turning. "Courage is not certainty. You taught me that before you learned it yourself."

He returned to the table and opened a joint escrow account under the system’s commercial authority.

➤[Joint Investment Vault created.]

➤[Authorized clients: Damien Dawson, John Jones.]

➤[Assigned Agent: Pending.]

➤[Current Balance: 0 Gold Coins.]

Damien selected his personal balance.

Every available Gold Coin he owned appeared beside the transfer option. The amount looked tiny against the target, but it represented everything liquid he had earned, borrowed, and kept since returning.

He selected Transfer All.

➤[Transfer confirmed.]

➤[Personal available gold balance: 0.]

The sight produced an unexpected emptiness in his stomach.

John noticed. "You may still eat my food."

"That was not the concern."

"It should be. You are now poor."

John opened his balance. He had already consolidated every liquid gold coin he could access, leaving only property, equipment, and payments locked inside active raid contracts. He did not show Damien the individual accounts. He selected Transfer All.

The penthouse lights dimmed as the system verified the transaction.

➤[Transfer confirmed.]

➤[Personal available gold balance: 0.]

➤[Joint Investment Vault Balance: 100,000,000 Gold Coins.]

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then John released another sigh.

"Within a few days, I will either become richer than almost everyone else or become a beggar."

Damien looked around the enormous penthouse. "You still own this."

"A beggar with excellent windows."

"And several legendary weapons."

"A heavily armed beggar."

"It could be worse."

John’s mustache lifted. "If this fails, I am charging you rent."

"I own the penthouse."

John stared at him.

Damien stared back.

"Then I am already homeless," John said.

The tension broke. They laughed, quietly at first, then enough that Damien had to hold his healing ribs.

The funding seal remained above them.

100,000,000 Gold Coins.

Four hours had almost never looked so expensive.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!