And next when DJ woke up, he was like someone had swapped his soul overnight.
He hummed while brushing his teeth.
He actually smiled at his reflection.
He even did a tiny shoulder dance on the way out of his room.
Natalie, his maid, spotted him entering the living room and blinked like she'd seen a unicorn.
"You're… happy sir?" she asked.
DJ grabbed her hand without warning, spun her once, nearly made her drop her tablet.
"Whoa— what— why are you—"
"New opportunity!" he called out, already halfway down the hall, shoes half-tied, hair a mess.
She stood there, still spinning a little. "Sir— what opportunity—?"
But he was gone.
Outside, he revved his bike, popped a tiny wheelie—on purpose—then another, not on purpose. He laughed, giddy, and blasted down the road like a teenager who stole his dad's keys.
By the time he reached Rony's building—seven floors up, no elevator—he didn't even notice he was out of breath. He mashed the PIN code, shoved the door open.
Rony was at his table messing with something small and metallic on his table. He flinched hard, tried to cover it with his whole body like it was something illegal, which…it probably was. DJ didn't even look. He went straight to the fridge.
He grabbed two bottles of mango juice.
" Why don't you keep beer?" he complained and tossed one at Rony.
Rony caught it—barely—eyes flicking between the bottle and DJ's stupidly bright grin.
"…Okay. What happened to you?" he asked slowly. " Did Sakshi say yes or something?"
DJ laughed. "She will after today's date. Best restaurant in town. But no, that's not it."
He plopped onto the couch, still buzzing. "I went to the factory last night."
Rony straightened a bit. "And?"
DJ tried—tried—to look normal. Failed instantly. "Security's increased. I used the new drone you build. Drilled a hole. Saw inside."
He paused dramatically.
"There wasn't a hundred million…"
Rony's face didn't shift much. A tiny blink. A slight tightening in his face. "So… how much?"
DJ scratched his chin. "Not much… just three ship containers filled with Swiss currency."
Rony nodded at first, calm, processing.
Then something clicked. He froze.
"…Wait. What did you say?"
DJ bit his lip, a snort escaping. "Three containers," he repeated, voice cracking into laughter.
Rony stared at him like he was trying to read subtitles that weren't there.
"You're messing with me," he said, except the words came a little too soft.
"Why would I joke about THAT?"
This time Rony really heard it. His shoulders sagged. He dropped onto his chair like the floor had moved. He twisted open the juice bottle with shaky hands and took a long, desperate gulp.
"…Do you know how much it fits in one container?" Rony asked, voice rough.
DJ shrugged. "Uh—"
"Thirty to forty billion. Each."
Rony's fingers tapped his knee, fast. "That's— that's insane."
DJ leaned forward. "You excited?"
Rony let out a breath that sounded like a laugh and a groan mixed together. "Are you kidding me? That much money—"
He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes drifting to the clutter on his desk—half-built gadgets, old projects he never had funds for. His thumb brushed the bottle label over and over.
DJ noticed. "What?"
Rony looked away. "Just… how many people you could feed with that. How many families—"
He shut his mouth quickly, like he hadn't meant to say that out loud.
DJ's smile dimmed for a second, but he recovered. "We can fix all that. One container and we're free. I never have to steal again. And you can build anything you want."
Rony nodded slowly, still processing, fingers tapping faster now.
"How'd they get so much?" he asked, quieter.
DJ slapped his shoulder. "Do what they did and you'll have more than them. And it's not their money anyway. It's black."
Rony's eyes flicked to DJ's face, searching. "…So you think we can swallow it?"
DJ tried to look serious. Failed. "With my plan and your tech? Yeah. We can. We just need a little more of that Pull-water ." And hearing this, Rony paused, his eyes flickering.
" Ok now explain from the beginning." ans after a small explanation later.
Rony pressed his lips together, thinking hard. "So let me get this straight—"
He pointed at DJ.
"You went to check the factory. Found a guy selling pull-water to terrorists. Who's also a co-founder of Horseman. Who also owns the mine where this Pull-water originated. And the money's stashed in their warehouse."
"Correct."
"And the part where you can't enter after some distance?"
" Probably a modified EMP like before." He thinks for himself, and remember.
" What about my helmet, it's probably will work."
DJ looked away. "Forgot the new helmet."
Rony raised one eyebrow. "…Didn't want to wear it, huh?"
DJ groaned.
"And the drone?"
"…Left it in the factory."
Rony stared at him, deadpan, lips pressed flat.
"You're really smart, DJ," he said finally, dry enough to dehydrate a plant.
DJ handed him the location data from the drone before it died. Rony pulled up satellite images—grainy, outdated.
"No new data," he muttered. "Satellites aren't allowed over the disaster zone."
He leaned back, tapping the desk with the bottle cap. His gaze unfocused slightly—thinking, lining up pieces.
"So the pull-water and the money both belong to Horseman," he murmured. "If we steal them… we're their biggest enemies."
His tone said it like he was testing how the words felt.
Not scared.
Not thrilled either.
Just… weighing it.
DJ nodded once.
Rony looked at him. "Why not go to the government?"
DJ blinked. "Why don't you just announce, 'Hey guys, I know where the black money and top-secret magic water is.' Come on."
Rony's mouth twitched. "Point taken."
He stared at the screen one more moment.
Then at DJ.
Then down at his hands, which had stopped shaking.
"…Are we really doing this?" he asked.
DJ grinned. "We can see."
Rony exhaled through his nose, a tiny smile tugging the corner of his mouth despite himself.
"Fine," he said. "You get the pull-water. I'll build more drones. And better gear."
DJ leaned back, smiling like a man who'd already won.
Rony whispered almost to himself, "Biggest heist in history or earth…"