Charles watched through the tinted window as the woman in the white suit—Elena Vance—dismissed a frantic-looking assistant. Even from a distance, she radiated a cold, pressurized energy, the kind that came from carrying a dying empire on one's shoulders.
Charles stepped out of the sedan, his charcoal suit catching the afternoon light. He didn't rush. He moved with the measured pace of a man who knew the world would wait for him.
As he approached the fountain, his Predator's Eye continued to feed him data.
[Target: Elena Vance]
[Current Mood: Desperation masked by Stoicism]
[Immediate Barrier: Needs $15 Million in liquid capital by 5:00 PM to stop a hostile takeover of Vance Shipping.]
Fifteen million. To the Charles of forty-eight hours ago, that number was an abstraction, a distance like the one between Earth and the Andromeda Galaxy. To the Charles with the System, it was simply a matter of a few well-placed spins.
Elena looked up as he entered her personal space. Her eyes were a piercing, icy blue, sharpened by years of boardroom warfare. "If you're here for an autograph or a donation, you've picked a very bad day," she said, her voice like velvet wrapped around a blade.
"I'm not much for autographs," Charles said, stopping just at the edge of the fountain's spray. "And as for donations... I prefer the term 'strategic injection.'"
Elena paused, her thumb hovering over her tablet. She looked him over. She was used to being approached by sharks, but Charles was a different species. He didn't have the stench of "old money" arrogance, nor the sweaty desperation of "new money." He felt... inevitable.
"You're Charles Reed," she said, her eyes narrowing. "I saw the commotion at the Aria Terrace. You just paid for half the patio's lunch. A flashy move, but a cheap one."
"It was a morning snack," Charles shrugged. "I hear you're looking for something a bit more substantial. Fifteen million? For a five percent stake in Vance Shipping?"
Elena's composure fractured for a fraction of a second. "How could you possibly know that figure? That's private board information."
"Information is like money, Elena. It flows toward the people who know how to use it." Charles checked his watch. "It's 2:15 PM. The banks close their high-value wire transfers in less than three hours. You can keep talking to your 'family friends' who are currently ghosting your calls, or you can talk to me."
Elena stepped closer, her scent—something like sandalwood and rain—hitting him. "Even if I believed you had the capital, why would you do it? Five percent is a pittance. You'd have no voting power."
"I don't want to run your company," Charles said, his voice dropping an octave. The Charisma Passive was working overtime, making his words feel like the only truth in the park. "I want a seat at the table of the woman who is going to dominate the Pacific trade routes. I'm buying the future, Elena. You just happen to be the one holding the deed."
She looked at him for a long beat, searching for the catch. "Come with me. My office is two blocks away. If you can prove you have the funds, we talk. If not, I'll have my security ensure you never walk on this street again."
"Lead the way," Charles smiled.
The Office of the Fallen Queen
The Vance Shipping headquarters was a monolith of glass and steel, but the air inside felt thin. The employees moved with the hushed, frantic energy of sailors on a sinking ship.
Once inside her private office, Elena locked the door and turned to him. "Show me. No more riddles."
Charles sat in the leather guest chair. He didn't have fifteen million. He had roughly $180,000. He needed to scale—and he needed to do it right in front of her.
"I need to make a few... logistical transfers first," Charles said. He pulled out his phone. "Do you have anything for sale? Right here? Right now?"
Elena blinked, confused. "What?"
"Something expensive. Something you own personally."
She scoffed, thinking he was mocking her. "I have a collection of antique nautical charts in that cabinet. They were appraised at two hundred thousand dollars last month. Why?"
"I'll buy them. All of them. For two hundred and fifty thousand."
"You're insane," she whispered, but the desperation won out. She pulled out a digital contract pad—standard for high-tier asset trading. "Sign it. Pay it."
Charles swiped his card.
[DING!]
[Purchase Detected: $250,000 (Art/Antiques)]
[Commencing Spin...]
The golden wheel roared to life in his mind. 1... 2... 3... It hit the 5.
[Multiplier Result: 5x!]
[Calculation: $250,000 x 5 = $1,250,000]
[Processing Rebate...]
Charles didn't stop. "The desk. The art on the walls. That sculpture in the corner. How much for all of it?"
Elena watched in a trance as Charles spent the next thirty minutes in a "buying spree" of her own office. Every time he swiped, the System spiraled his wealth upward. $250k became $1.2M. He spent $1M on her personal jewelry collection (which she pulled from the office safe in a daze), and the wheel hit a 4x multiplier.
Balance: $4,200,000.
He was sweating now, the mental toll of the System's interface pressing against his temples. He needed one more big play.
"The building," Charles said, his eyes bloodshot but burning. "Who owns the land lease for this tower?"
"My family's holding company," Elena said, her voice trembling. She was watching her phone—every time Charles 'bought' something, her personal account flared with life, but she was more terrified by the fact that he seemed to be generating money out of thin air.
"Sell me the 99-year lease. Right now. Twelve million dollars."
"Charles, that's... that's below market value, but it's enough to save the company. But you don't have twelve million!"
"Refresh your screen," Charles commanded.
He tapped the Targeted Purchase feature he'd unlocked at Level 2.
[Targeted Purchase Active: Minimum Multiplier 3x Guaranteed!]
He executed the transfer for the lease. The wheel spun, glowing with a blinding, holy light. It bypassed the 1 and 2 entirely. It landed on 5.
[CRITICAL HIT!]
[Multiplier Result: 5x!]
[Calculation: $12,000,000 x 5 = $60,000,000]
[Processing Rebate...]
The silence in the office was absolute. Charles leaned back, exhaling a cloud of tension. His phone screen showed a balance that made his head swim: $64,180,000.
Elena fell back into her chair, her tablet clattering to the desk. The notification on her end was clear: Incoming Wire Transfer: $12,000,000. Status: Completed.
"You... you just saved me," she breathed. She looked at Charles, and for the first time, the "Ice Queen" mask shattered. There was wonder there. And something deeper—a primal recognition of a power she didn't understand.
Charles stood up and walked around the desk. He didn't stop until he was inches away from her. He reached out, his thumb brushing the line of her jaw.
"I didn't save you, Elena," he whispered. "I bought you. The company, the building, and the future. Remember?"
Elena didn't pull away. Her heart was hammering against her ribs so loudly he could see the pulse in her neck. "What are you, Charles Reed?"
"I'm the man who never loses a bet," he said.
[DING!]
[Bond Initiated: Elena Vance]
[Affection Level: 15/100 (Intrigued/Indebted)]
[System Level 3 Requirements: Reach a Net Worth of $500 Million and secure 1 'Loyal' Harem Member.]