Eric left the hospital walking beside his parents, feeling the sunlight hit his face as if he were experiencing the world for the first time in a long while.
The air felt heavier.
More real.
Almost too dense for someone who had spent days inside a controlled environment.
His body was light.
Recovered.
But his mind—
Didn't stop.
It ran ahead of him.
Calculating risks.
Anticipating threats.
Rearranging scenarios as if every step belonged to an invisible chessboard.
His mother held his arm tightly—
Not to support him.
But out of fear.
Fear that if she let go—
He might disappear again.
His father walked on the other side.
Silent.
Observing everything.
Pride…
Mixed with suspicion.
When they reached the parking lot, Eric discreetly pulled a bank card from his pocket and handed it to his father.
"What is this?" his father asked, turning it between his fingers.
"An account for you. There's enough money there so you don't have to worry for a while."
His father's eyes widened.
"Is this a joke?"
"The company is paying me very well," Eric replied smoothly. "I'll start sending money every month."
His mother looked at him carefully.
Not just listening—
Reading.
"You took a long time to tell us you were doing this well."
Eric felt guilt tighten in his chest.
Not as pain—
But as weight.
"I know… I'm sorry it took so long."
His father gave him a light slap on the shoulder.
"We're proud of you. Just treat your boss well—that blonde girl. She seems like a good woman. Don't mess things up and lose your job."
Eric smiled.
But it didn't reach his eyes.
"Don't worry."
On the way to the airport, his parents kept glancing around the car.
The finish.
The silence of the engine.
The excessive comfort.
"You rented this?" his father asked.
"Something like that."
The answer was too light to be fully true.
At the terminal, his mother held his hands tightly.
"I wish we could stay longer."
"You've got people taking care of me."
The sentence came out automatically.
Safe.
Calculated.
His father tilted his head slightly.
"I knew you were seeing that pretty Chinese girl."
Eric didn't answer.
The silence confirmed everything.
Just before boarding, he added casually:
"I rented a bigger house for you in another city. You won't have to worry about rent for a long time."
His father stopped.
Completely.
"What exactly are you working with?"
The question came heavier now.
"Financial markets."
"Before finishing college?"
"I have… useful skills for the company."
Ambiguous.
Safe.
Incomplete.
But acceptable.
His mother hugged him tightly.
"Just don't do anything dangerous."
Eric held her gaze.
And for the first time—
The lie came too easily.
"My job isn't dangerous at all."
That bothered him.
Not because he lied.
But because he didn't feel as much as he should.
When the plane took off, Eric remained standing—
Watching until it disappeared into the sky.
For a few seconds—
He wasn't the strategist.
Not the operator.
Just a son.
But it didn't last.
Back in the car, he called Elena.
She answered—Lucía beside her.
"We're at the warehouse," Elena said. "And this is not safe at all."
Eric imagined it.
Coins scattered.
Volume.
Exposure.
Risk.
"When can we go home?" she asked.
"Soon. How's the penthouse?"
Silence.
Too brief to be casual.
"It's… comfortable," Elena replied.
Lucía muttered in the background:
"Comfortable is an understatement. It's absurd."
Eric smiled.
Then glanced at the rearview mirror.
And saw him.
A man sitting in a café.
Relaxed posture.
Eyes—
Too attentive.
Watching.
Not coincidence.
Police…
Or something worse.
"Stay there until the new mercenaries arrive."
"When?" Lucía asked.
"Two days."
Too long.
Or not enough.
He ended the call.
"Stay in the warehouse until I get there."
When he entered the warehouse, the impact was immediate.
Silence.
And weight.
Coins everywhere.
Open bags.
Organized piles.
Sealed crates.
This wasn't an operation anymore.
This was scale.
"All of this came in today?" he asked.
"No," Elena replied. "Multiple traders. And some of them were… too curious."
Curiosity.
The word sounded like danger.
Lucía crossed her arms.
"People are starting to talk."
Eric picked up a coin.
Observed it.
Cold.
Ordinary.
But to him—
Potential.
A thousand kilos.
Maybe more.
His heart accelerated.
Not from fear.
From calculation.
He stepped outside.
Two cars.
Parked.
Distant.
But not far enough.
He got into his vehicle and started driving.
Subtle changes.
Turns.
Route shifts.
One of the cars reacted.
Confirmed.
They were being followed.
Eric changed direction sharply.
Side streets.
Traffic.
Noise.
Urban chaos.
He disappeared.
If they were police—
They were confused.
If they were mercenaries—
They were testing him.
He returned through another route.
Re-entered the warehouse.
"We need to move this now," Elena said.
"Not yet."
"What do you mean?"
"I need to be alone."
Lucía narrowed her eyes.
"Alone for what?"
"To talk to the supplier."
Silence.
Discomfort.
"You always talk about him like he's a real person," Elena said.
"I made a promise."
"I want to meet him," Lucía said.
"You can't."
"Why?"
"Because I promised no one would know."
The room grew heavier.
"This is getting too strange," Elena said.
Eric exhaled slowly.
"Do you trust me?"
Silence answered first.
"One hour," Lucía said. "That's it."
"That's enough."
They left.
Reluctantly.
Eric waited.
Minutes passed.
He walked to the door.
Looked outside.
Nothing.
Silence.
He returned.
Stopped at the center of the warehouse.
Looked around.
And realized—
Everything had started here.
Coins.
Trades.
Small decisions.
Now—
It was a system.
He closed his eyes.
Opened the Midas System.
The interface appeared.
Cold.
Silent.
Present.
This time—
There was no urgency.
No desperation.
Only intention.
He knelt.
Touched the first pile.
And began the conversion.
Golden light spread slowly.
Hypnotic.
Dangerous.
The cycle had begun again.
But Eric—
Was no longer the same.
And deep down—
He knew.
This was no longer about survival.
It was about control.
And control—
Always comes with a price.