Chapter 126: Upgrade
Monday, March 28, 2016
Michael parked his car in the garage and sat there for a moment, staring at the steering wheel. The car had been his faithful companion since arriving in Los Angeles, carrying him to recording sessions, meetings with Karl, and back to this refuge he had built away from the noise of the city.
The house wasn't luxurious, but it was his. Well, rented, but it felt like his. He had chosen it specifically for its isolated location, perfect for making music without distractions. It had everything he needed: a bedroom converted into a studio, a basic kitchen, a couch where he had spent countless nights working on beats until dawn.
But after the tour, after the Shrine Auditorium and the six thousand fans screaming his name, something had changed. Not in the house. In him.
His phone buzzed with a message from Karl:
"Are you home? We need to talk. It's about your situation."
Michael replied: "Yeah. Come over."
While he waited, he walked through the house looking at it with new eyes. The makeshift studio where he had produced hits accumulating hundreds of millions of streams. The window where he watched the sunset while mixing songs. The table where he had signed his first major contract with Karl.
This place had history. But maybe it was time to create a new one.
Karl arrived twenty minutes later in his BMW, parking next to Michael's Corolla. The contrast between the two cars said everything about how much things had changed.
"That Corolla," said Karl as he walked in, gesturing toward the door. "When are you going to replace it?"
"I like my Corolla. It's reliable."
"You're making tens if not hundreds of thousands of dollars and you're driving a 2012 Toyota."
"It keeps me grounded."
Karl shook his head, but there was a smile on his lips. He sat down on the worn living room couch and pulled out his tablet.
"Okay, let's talk reality. The tour was a massive success. Your income is going to keep growing. And in the meantime, you're living in a house that, no offense, looks like it's rented by a college student."
"Hey, this house—"
"This house was perfect when you were starting out. When you needed to shut the world out and focus on the music. But things have changed, Mike. Now you need space for a team. For meetings. For professional recording sessions. That room you call a 'studio'..." Karl pointed toward the closed door, "is a closet with foam panels on the walls."
Michael couldn't argue with that. The "studio" had worked for producing demos and recording basic vocals, but for the level of production he now needed, it was inadequate.
"What do you have in mind?" he asked.
"Not buying anything. I know you want to keep your money in Ethereum." Karl opened some photos on his tablet. "But there are incredible rental mansions out there. We're talking places with real recording studios, space for your team to work, security, everything."
"How much?"
"Twenty-five to thirty-five thousand a month, depending on the property."
Michael whistled. "That's... a lot."
"It's less than ten percent of your monthly income. And think about what you get: a professional space, the right image for meetings with labels and collaborators, and honestly, Mike, some comfort. You've earned it."
Michael looked around the living room. The walls that had witnessed so many nights of creation. The corner where he had written "Lucid Dreams" at three in the morning. The kitchen where Amy had made him tea when he lost his voice.
"I don't know if I'm ready to leave this place," he admitted.
"You don't have to leave it. You can keep the lease here, use it as a backup or a creative space when you need to escape. But you need a primary place that matches where you are right now."
It was logical. Michael knew that. But there was something about the idea of moving that felt like a betrayal. As if by accepting the luxury, he would be drifting away from the hunger that had brought him this far.
"Let me think about it," he said. "But first, I need to talk to Harris about the Dubai transfer."
The call with Harris was more complicated than expected.
"Ethereum is at eight dollars," said Harris, his voice tense through the phone. "It dropped twenty percent since the tour started. Are you sure you don't want to reconsider the strategy?"
Michael was sitting in his makeshift studio, surrounded by the equipment he had used to build a musical empire. Through the small window he could see the sun descending over the hills.
"I'm not selling," he answered calmly. "And I'm not transferring yet either."
"What? I thought you wanted to move everything to the Dubai structure as soon as possible."
"I changed my mind. I want to wait until December."
There was a long pause. "December? That's nine months away. Why?"
Michael had thought a lot about how to explain this without sounding like a lunatic who could see the future. Because that was exactly what he was, but he couldn't say it.
"Look, Harris, I have a theory about the cryptocurrency market. I think this year is going to be one of consolidation. Prices are going to stay relatively low while the ecosystem matures. But at some point, probably next year, there's going to be a massive rally."
"And what does that have to do with waiting until December?"
"If we transfer now, the cost basis is eight dollars per ETH. But if we wait until December and the price stays similar, we establish the transfer right before the end of the year. That gives us a clean tax window for 2017. Any gains after that happen inside the Dubai structure, where the effective rate is zero."
Harris took a moment to respond. Michael could picture him processing the information, looking for flaws in the logic.
"That's... incredibly calculated," he said finally. "Where did you learn about international tax planning?"
"I read a lot."
"Michael, I've worked with clients who have decades of experience in finance and they don't think with this level of sophistication. What aren't you telling me?"
It was a dangerous question. Michael knew that eventually someone would ask it. That his knowledge of the future, his absolute certainty about things he shouldn't know, would eventually raise suspicions.
"Trust me," he said simply. "I can't explain everything, but my instincts haven't failed me yet. Have they?"
Another silence.
"No," Harris admitted. "Every crazy decision you've made has turned out to be right. Ethereum when it was at cents. Independence from labels. The tour strategy. All of it."
"Then trust me on this too. We wait until December. If the price rises significantly before then, we revisit. But I have a feeling it's not going to happen."
"Alright, Michael. December. But I want monthly updates on your position."
"Done."
"Anything else?"
"Yeah. Karl wants me to move to a mansion. He says I need a professional space."
"He's right," said Harris immediately. "Your image matters in this industry. You can't receive executives from Sony or Universal in a... no offense, but I've seen photos of your current house."
"Why does everyone feel the need to insult my house today?"
"Because we care about you and we want you to succeed. How much would the rent be?"
"Twenty-eight to thirty-five thousand."
"Completely manageable. Do it. But rent, don't buy. Keep the liquidity."
"That's exactly what I told Karl."
"At least you listen to some advice."
Michael smiled. "I listen to all of it. I just don't follow all of it."
That night, Michael drove his Corolla through the Hollywood Hills. He didn't have a specific destination, he just needed to move, to think, to process.
The city glittered below him, an ocean of lights stretching to the horizon. Somewhere down there, six thousand people had sung his songs just a few days ago. Somewhere, millions more were listening to him at this very moment, his words drifting through headphones in cities he had never visited.
He stopped at an empty lookout point and turned off the engine. The silence was absolute except for the distant sound of traffic.
He took out his phone and checked the crypto app. Ethereum: $8.07. Red. Falling.
But Michael felt no panic. He felt anticipation.
He knew what others didn't know. The price that was now causing anxiety among investors around the world was actually an opportunity. In less than two years, those eight dollars would become hundreds. Then more than a thousand. His fortune of six million would multiply until it became almost incalculable.
And by then, everything would be safe in Dubai. Out of reach of any government. Growing quietly while he kept making music.
The plan was perfect. It only required patience.
He opened his phone and wrote:
"March 28, 2016.
Everyone wants me to change. To move to a mansion. To replace the Corolla. To look like the star I'm supposedly supposed to be.
Maybe they're right. Maybe it's time for an upgrade.
But I'm not going to lose what brought me here. The hunger. The discipline. The ability to see what others can't see.
Plan:1. Find a mansion to rent (not buy)2. Keep my current house as a backup3. Wait until December for the Dubai transfer4. Do NOT sell a single ETH
The tour is over.ETH: $8.07Current net worth: ~$8.5M
If I'm right about the bull run... it changes everything.If I'm wrong... well, I still have the music.
But I'm not going to be wrong."
He closed the notebook and started the Corolla.
Tomorrow he would start looking at mansions. But tonight, he just wanted to drive through the streets of the city he was conquering, in the car that reminded him of where he came from.
Some things didn't need to change.
Not yet.
When he got home, he found a message from Amy:
"Saw on Instagram you're back. Gym tomorrow? I need to hear all the tour stories."
Michael smiled and replied:
"Tomorrow at 7. And get ready, because I have MANY stories."
"Anything about girls? 👀"
"..."
"Just asking! See you tomorrow."
He sat down on the couch and opened his laptop. He had hundreds of unread messages, social media notifications, emails from Karl with documents to review. The life of a rising star didn't stop just because the tour had ended.
But before diving into all of that, he opened the System interface.
CURRENT STATUS Influence Points: 15,847,320 IP Ethereum: 450,000 ETH @ $8.07 = $3,631,500 Available cash: $527,000 Pending royalties: $623,000 Estimated total net worth: $8,640,000
ACTIVE MISSIONS:
Establish Dubai structure (78% complete)Launch debut album (PENDING)Reach 500M total streams (current: ~400M)
Michael studied the numbers. His IP had grown significantly during the tour thanks to the emotional connections with the audience. Almost sixteen million. It was an enormous amount, but he knew he was going to need more for what was coming.
The System had options that required massive amounts of IP. He had seen glimpses of what he could unlock: complete albums, legendary collaborations, knowledge that would change the course of the music industry. But everything had a cost. Nothing was free.
'I need more,' he thought. 'I always need more.'
He closed the laptop and went to bed.
Tomorrow would be a busy day. Gym with Amy. Looking at mansions with Karl. Calls with lawyers about the Dubai structure. And at some point, back to the studio to keep creating.
The tour was over, but the work never stopped.
Before falling asleep, he opened his notebook one more time and added:
"Additional note:
The System shows 15.8 million IP. That's a lot, but not enough for what I think is coming. I need to keep generating, keep connecting with the audience, keep growing.
The album roulette requires 20 million IP. It's an enormous risk — I could get anything. But the potential value...
No. Not yet. First the move. First Dubai. First stabilize everything.
Then, when I have enough IP, I'll take the risk.
Because that's how empires are built. One calculated risk at a time."
He set the phone down and lay back in his bed, the same bed where he had slept through months of relentless work. The ceiling had a water stain in the corner he had never fixed. The walls needed paint. The air conditioner made a strange noise.
It was imperfect. It was his.
But Karl was right. It was time to evolve.
Not because he needed to impress anyone. But because the next level of his career required the next level of infrastructure. A real studio. Space for collaborators. A place where he could receive Rihanna or Justin Bieber without embarrassment.
Tomorrow he would look at mansions.
But tonight, he would sleep here one more time.
In the place where it all began.
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