The air in the cafe turned to ice.
Tobi didn't look at the Glock 19 suppressed under the bodyguard's charcoal blazer. He didn't look at the crowd of influencers who were suddenly very quiet. He looked at the satellite phone sitting on the marble table next to Segun Alabi's double espresso.
A golden line of code, thinner than a spider's silk, stretched from Tobi's retina to the device.
[LINK ESTABLISHED: ENCRYPTED UPLINK] [DECRYPTING... 10%... 40%... SUCCESS] [MARKET DATA ACQUIRED: ZENITH HOLDINGS MERGER] [CURRENT STATUS: LEAKING IN REAL-TIME]
"Stop right there, boy," the bodyguard on the left growled. His hand was a blur, moving to intercept Tobi's chest.
"Forty-two seconds," Tobi said. His voice didn't shake. It was the cold, hollow tone of a man who had already died once that morning. "In forty-two seconds, the Zenith Holdings merger hits the dark-web forums. Your 'Market Cap' drops by 12%. That's a three-billion-naira haircut before you finish your coffee, Mr. Alabi."
The bodyguard's hand stopped an inch from Tobi's throat.
Segun Alabi didn't look up from his phone at first. He scrolled once, his thumb steady. Then, he froze. He tilted his head, his sharp, hawk-like gaze finally lifting to meet Tobi's glowing green eyes.
[TARGET: SEGUN ALABI] [HYPE LEVEL: 94/100] [CURRENT EMOTION: SHOCK / CALCULATING LETHALITY]
"Who are you?" Alabi asked. His voice was a low, melodic purr that carried the weight of a death sentence.
"A ghost with a better algorithm than yours," Tobi replied.
[MISSION TIMER: 30 SECONDS...]
"He's a wired-up freak, Boss," the second guard hissed, reaching for Tobi's shoulder to drag him out. "Probably a corporate spy from the Dantata group."
"Wait," Alabi raised a single finger. The guards went rigid, instantly still. He looked at Tobi's laptop—the battered, duct-taped Dell. "You claim to know about Zenith. That deal is protected by Tier-4 Aegis encryption. Even the NSA would need a week to sniff the headers."
"Your Aegis has a leak," Tobi said, his vision pulsing red as the data-flow accelerated. "It's not a hack. It's a 'Reputation Sinkhole.' Your CFO's mistress just posted a picture of a diamond watch on a private Instagram. The serial number is linked to the Zenith escrow account. The bots have already found it. The dump starts... now."
Tobi pointed at Alabi's satellite phone.
For three heartbeats, the only sound in the cafe was the hum of the dying AC.
Ping.
Alabi's phone vibrated. Then it screamed. A high-priority red alert flashed on the screen.
[ALERT: ZENITH HOLDINGS STOCK CRITICAL VOLATILITY - SELL-OFF INITIATED]
Alabi grabbed the phone. His face didn't change, but the [HYPE LEVEL] above his head flickered violently, dropping from 94 to 88. For a Corporate Cultivator, losing relevance was more painful than losing blood.
"Fix it," Alabi snapped, looking at Tobi.
"I'm overdrawn by four thousand five hundred naira," Tobi said, leaning against the table, his heart hammering so hard he thought it might shatter his ribs. "My 'Success Probability' just jumped from 0.04% to 15%. I don't work for free, Mr. Alabi."
The guards moved, their patience gone, but Alabi slammed his hand on the table.
"I said fix it," Alabi roared. "If the stock stabilizes in five minutes, you live. If it drops another point, I'll have you buried in the foundation of my new hotel in Gwarinpa. Guards, give him a terminal."
The guard on the right reluctantly pulled out a high-end, military-grade tablet. Tobi took it. The cold metal felt like a weapon in his hands.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION] [UNAUTHORIZED HARDWARE DETECTED: SYNCING...] [SKILL UNLOCKED: MARKET MANIPULATION (LVL 1)] [COST: 100 STAMINA]
Tobi's vision blurred. The cafe disappeared. All he saw were the flickering candles of the global market—millions of souls buying and selling hope. He saw the leak. He saw the "Short-Sellers" circling like vultures over Abuja.
Show, don't tell, Tobi reminded himself.
His fingers danced across the glass. He didn't delete the mistress's photo—that was impossible. Instead, he initiated a [Visual Narrative Distortion].
He flooded the same hashtag with ten thousand AI-generated photos of the same watch, all tagged to different luxury influencers across Dubai, London, and Lagos. Within seconds, the "unique" serial number became a "trending fashion meme." The leak was lost in a sea of digital noise.
The vultures paused. The sell-off slowed.
[SUCCESS PROBABILITY: 65%... 80%... 98%]
Alabi watched his phone. The red line turned orange, then a steady, cooling green.
"It's stopped," Alabi whispered. He looked at Tobi with a mixture of horror and fascination. "You didn't use code. You used... hype?"
"Content is the only currency that matters in 2026, Mr. Alabi," Tobi said, sliding the tablet back. He felt dizzy. His stamina bar was flashing a dark, exhausted grey. "The merger is safe. For now."
Alabi stood up. He was a head taller than Tobi, smelling of expensive oud and old money. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black titanium card.
"There is a lounge in the basement of the Transcorp Hilton. Midnight," Alabi said. He dropped the card on Tobi's battered laptop. "Wear something that doesn't smell like a Wuse cafe. We're going to discuss how you're going to help me bankrupt my enemies."
Alabi turned and walked out, his guards forming a wall of muscle around him. The G-Wagon roared to life and tore away, leaving a cloud of dust and the scent of expensive exhaust.
Tobi collapsed back into his plastic chair.
[MISSION COMPLETE: THE ART OF THE HIJACK] [REWARD: 5,000 XP] [LEVEL UP: LEVEL 2] [NEW ATTRIBUTE POINT AVAILABLE]
Tobi looked at his phone. A new notification had arrived.
[GTB: Acct: 742... Amt: 5,000,000.00. Desc: ALABI_CONSULTING_FEE. Status: Processed.]
Five million naira.
Tobi started to laugh, a jagged, hysterical sound that turned into a sob. He looked at the waiter, Musa, who was staring at him with his mouth open.
"Musa!" Tobi yelled.
"Ehn? Boss?"
"Bring me the most expensive thing on the menu. And keep the change."
Tobi looked at the titanium card. His eyes flashed green. The "Corporate Cultivators" thought they owned Abuja. They thought the poor were just data points to be harvested.
They were wrong. The Market-God had arrived. And he was hungry.
[WARNING: YOUR SUDDEN WEALTH HAS TRIGGERED THE 'AUDIT' PROTOCOL.] [ENEMIES DETECTED: THE TAX-MAN (LEVEL 5 CORPORATE CULTIVATOR) IS EN ROUTE.]
Tobi's smile vanished.
"Abuja," he spat, grabbing his laptop. "No rest for the wicked."