That evening, Jake had barely stepped through the front door when Aliya appeared in the hallway as if she had been lying in wait.
"Why do you look happy?" she demanded, skipping the pleasantries.
Jake blinked. "Hello to you, too."
She folded her arms, blocking his path. "I've been watching you. You've been smiling at your phone all week. It's suspicious."
"I have not."
"You did yesterday. In the kitchen. While making toast."
"I saw a meme, Aliya."
Aliya dismissed that with a sharp wave of her hand. "You don't smile at memes. You exhale slightly through your nose. This was a genuine, corner-of-the-mouth situation."
Jake stared at her, genuinely impressed by the level of scrutiny. "You observe way too much. Get a hobby."
"Aha! Defensive behavior!" she cried in triumph.
From the kitchen, their mother's voice floated over the sound of a sizzling pan. "Aliya, let your brother breathe."
Aliya ignored the instruction for exactly three seconds before leaning closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Did she finally agree to a date, or did you win the lottery?"
Jake didn't miss a beat. "Yes. I won the lottery. First prize. And I'm buying you absolutely nothing."
Aliya gasped, clutching her chest as if she'd been struck. "You'd abandon your only sister like this? Your own flesh and blood?"
"In a heartbeat."
She narrowed her eyes, then broke into a wide grin. "Fine. When you're rich and famous, I'm telling the press the story about the time you cried because you dropped your ice cream in the sand."
Jake pushed past her toward his room. "You already tell that story for free."
"At least buy better bread tomorrow!" she shouted after him. "If you're secretly loaded, contribute to society!"
Jake stopped at his door and looked back. "You contribute nothing."
Aliya placed a hand on her heart with theatrical dignity. "I contribute vibes, Jake. Vibes."
That got him. The corner of his mouth lifted despite his best efforts, and he ducked into his room before she could claim another victory.
Later that night, the house quieted down. Jake sat at his desk and pulled up his account.
121,660 VM.
He leaned back, letting the number exist in the room with him. The loan was cleared, the immediate pressure was gone, and for the first time in his life, he had actual breathing room.
'But how am I going to explain this when the time comes?' he wondered. He could already see his father's face—the mixture of confusion and immediate suspicion. They'd probably think he was running some kind of high-level scam. He laughed quietly to himself, imagining the interrogation.
By next week, the last of the bills would be history. He could trade without that heavy, desperate weight in his chest. And once that happened... things were going to move fast. Not just the numbers, but everything.
He looked out the window. Aurelia City hummed under the night lights, a sprawling grid of energy. He wasn't just patching holes in a sinking ship anymore. He was building something. And soon, the change would be too big for anyone to ignore.
---
Wednesday afternoon heat clung to the city like a second skin.
Jake hopped out of a taxi near the Sun-Shine commercial district, adjusting his backpack strap as he looked up at the glass storefront. The polished surface reflected the chaotic afternoon traffic and the golden glow of the sliding sun.
He stood there for a beat. Not because he was nervous, but because he was recalibrating. A month ago, walking into a high-end electronics store would have felt like a battlefield. He would have checked his balance three times, calculated how many bowls of noodles he was sacrificing, and talked himself out of it by the time he reached the door.
Today, he just pulled out his phone to check his banking app one last time.
Bank balance: 42,600 VM.
Trading account: 121,660 VM.
The numbers looked steady. Normal, even. He tucked the phone away. "Alright. Time for an upgrade."
He pushed through the heavy glass doors and was hit by a wave of glorious, ice-cold air. The store smelled like expensive wood and brand-new circuitry. It was the kind of place where people spoke in low voices and everything was perfectly dusted.
Jake wandered through the aisles. His current laptop had been a warrior, but lately, it sounded like it was preparing for takeoff every time he opened more than three charts. The lag was becoming a liability. If he was going to take this to the next level, he needed a machine that could keep up with his eyes.
A sales assistant named Alice approached him with a professional smile. "Looking for anything specific today?"
Jake nodded. "I need something fast. High processing power, reliable, but I don't want anything that looks like a neon spaceship. Just clean."
"Of course. For work or design?"
"Market analysis and study," he replied.
A few yards away, two other sales agents, Sarah and Mary, watched the interaction.
"Does Alice really think he's buying?" Sarah whispered, leaning against a display. "He looks like a student who got lost on his way to the library."
Mary glanced at Jake, noting the way he carried himself—relaxed, not at all fidgety. "I don't know, Sarah. He looks pretty composed. And he's kind of cute. I wouldn't have minded taking that walk."
"Cute faces don't pay commissions, Mary. It's a waste of energy."
Jake, unaware of the commentary, was busy looking at specs. He asked about the cooling systems and memory capacity—practical questions that made it clear he knew exactly what he was looking for.
Finally, he stopped in front of the new fourteen-inch MacBook Pro. M5 chip. Sleek, dark finish. Quiet power. The price tag read 15,599 VM.
A month ago, that number would have been a dream. Today, it was just a business expense.
"I'll take this one," Jake said.
Alice blinked, her professional mask slipping for just a second. "Excellent choice. Would you like the extended warranty with that?"
"Absolutely," Jake said.
Over at the other counter, Sarah's eyes went wide. "No way. He went for the top spec. Watch, he's going to 'forget' his pin or say his bank is frozen."
"You really need to stop judging people by their hoodies," Mary muttered, feeling a slight sting of regret that she wasn't the one making the sale.
Alice brought over the terminal. "Whenever you're ready."
Jake swiped his card. The machine gave a cheerful beep. Approved.
As Alice wrapped the box in a premium bag, she gave him a genuine, warm smile. "Thank you for shopping with us. I hope you enjoy the new machine."
Jake took the bag, returning the smile. "That's a good look on you. You should smile more often."
He walked toward the exit, leaving a slightly blushing Alice behind him.
"See?" Mary said to a stunned Sarah. "Not everyone has to wear a suit to have a bank account."
Twenty minutes later, Jake was back on the street, the weight of the box in his hand feeling solid and real.
The sun was lower now, turning the city into a landscape of shifting gold. He walked toward the taxi stand, a deep sense of satisfaction settling in his chest. This wasn't an impulse buy. It wasn't about showing off. It was a tool.
Still, as he caught his reflection in a window, he couldn't help but mutter, "Damn. I could definitely get used to this. I probably could've gotten her number if I'd tried."
---
When he got home, the house was filled with the long shadows of early evening. He set the bag on the dining table and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. He'd barely finished the first sip when the inevitable happened.
"What is that?"
Jake closed his eyes for a second, bracing himself. Rapid footsteps echoed in the hall.
Aliya appeared in the doorway, her eyes locked onto the bag like a heat-seeking missile. Her expression shifted from curiosity to full-blown interrogation in record time. "...Jake," she said slowly.
"Yes?"
She pointed a finger at the box. "Explain. Now."
"It's a laptop."
"I have eyes, Jake. Why do you have it?"
"Because I bought it."
"With what money?" she shot back.
Jake leaned against the counter, trying to look casual. "My money. I thought we established the lottery win?"
Aliya marched over to the table, inspecting the brand and the model. She froze. Then, she turned back to him very slowly. "...Jake. This is a pro model."
"Eagle eyes, you have."
"This is not a 'saved my allowance' purchase. Are you secretly rich?"
"No."
"Are you doing something illegal?"
"Also no."
"Then how?"
Jake took a slow sip of water. "I've been trading. Forex. Mostly gold."
Aliya stared at him as if he'd just claimed to be a secret agent. "You're telling me you bought that... with trading money?"
"Yep."
"How much have you actually made?"
"Enough."
"That's not a number!"
"It's the only answer you're getting."
Aliya groaned, dropping into a chair with a dramatic flourish. "This is torture. My own brother is having a financial glow-up and I'm stuck with the cheap bread."
Jake picked up the box, heading for his room. "Finish school first, then we'll talk."
"I just started my first year, you jerk!" she yelled after him. "You're still in school too!"
"Well, finish it successfully then," he called back with a laugh.
A sofa cushion came flying down the hallway, but he was already inside his room, the door clicking shut just in time.
---