Beginning
Of course, Randolph could make the obvious connection between the capital page and the system in general. As it was named a trading system, it was for the purpose of trade. If it was for the purpose of trade, then just as he had signed a contract himself, it would allow him to trade lifespan.
This train of thought led him to the next screen, the [Contracts] screen.
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{Listed Contracts}
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[Generate Contract]
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This screen was the most brief of all. The list of contracts it contained was completely empty, and there was only a small, boxed button at the bottom of the screen.
Seeing it, Randolph's breathing grew rough.
If his guesses were true, then it was made immediately clear to him as to what salvation the screen had been talking about
Lifespan as a capital? That was no joke.
This was something quite literally priceless. It was wanted and valued by all, but obtainable by none. The price was essentially made relative to its buyer, as if the very purpose of the system was to wring as much money out of the other party as possible. It wasn't to mention that the existence of the system granted him a monopoly on this lifespan market. If there was no competition, then he could set the price as high or low as he wanted without worry.
But on the same train of thought, the young man's mind was brought back to the capital section. Inside of it wasn't just his monetary assets or his lifespan, but a multitude of locked categories that he wasn't able to see.
The possibilities are endless… but if people were to find out about this system, even just staying alive would be the least of my worries. Hell, it'd probably even be a struggle to die.
Unlimited possibilities came to Randolph's mind. But with them came darker worries as well. He could more than imagine himself being locked up in a straight-jacket for the rest of his life by powerful groups, becoming a human tool meant solely for the purpose of trading lifespan.
The existence of this system absolutely cannot be leaked. This is horrifying. It's no wonder why that kid and his freak were looking for it.
At the thought of the scene he had previously considered a nightmare, goosebumps rose along Randolph's skin. That kid was, putting it mildly – batshit insane. He considered himself a god, but this was no minor threat because he was even capable of creating life. Or, "life".
One could only imagine what he would do to Randolph once he learned that Bune's Gift had merged with his soul.
Glancing over his shoulder, Randolph's gaze turned to the black briefcase still lying on the soil.
But so what? An opportunity like this doesn't just come once in a lifetime. This is a God-given opp-
But his thoughts halted upon remembering the words of the system, along with the single boldened clause on the contract.
This is a "God-given" opportunity. There's no choice but to make the best of it… Even if it's all just a dream in the end, I have to try. After all, all I have left to lose is my life.
Looking down at his hands, he stayed silent in thought. No emotion could be seen in his eyes, as if the entire thing was a game. He was not about to allow himself to feel hope so easily again. After all, it could be swept away in the wind as easily as a feather.
Turning around, Randolph picked up the briefcase on the ground. He opened it right there, slowly counting the money as a plan began formulating in his mind.
Inside it was indeed $4100, down to the note. He didn't know where the other $20 or so was, but he quite frankly didn't care. His severance pay and lifespan were the only source of income he had left. He had to spend them wisely, yet thriftly.
Standing back up, he hugged the briefcase tightly to his chest as he made his way back through the large forest.
***
It was midday on the next day when Randolph had finished his business. He sat quietly on a bench inside an underground subway station. In his hands was a sandwich that he munched on as his eyes darted constantly though the station inspecting each face that entered.
He had gone to get some professional treatment at a hospital earlier. It had already been several days since he had gotten the swollen eye, so it was reduced to a mere purple lump. It was hardly noticeable unless one looked closely.
His bruises were the only main point of his worry now. They had spread out slightly, pale blotches covering his torso and arms. They didn't hurt, but they were quite noticeable. Fortunately, he could easily hide them with his clothes – in which he did.
He had spent like never before over course of the timeframe between now and his departure from the forest. He was wearing a whole mid-range brand suit, which had cost him a whopping $220.
He wore a white undershirt covered by a black coat. His white collar poked out from the top, and a black tie reached down his chest. His black trousers had been buckled up with a clean leather belt. The only part of his attire that didn't match was his shoes, which were running shoes instead of dress shoes. They didn't stand out unless one looked carefully though, as he had chosen the colour black to fit in.
The manner of dress was clean and fresh, quite professional. It was a look that was quite rare in the slums, that combined with his good-looks that were no longer blemished gave him a smooth and handsome look, one that attracted no small amount of gazes from the people traversing the subway.
Along with the health care, clothes, and food, he had bought a new phone and sim card as well. The entire process had cost him slightly over $500, leaving him with around $3400 to work with.
A loud rumbling could be heard as Randolph sat on the bench, and the entire station shook slightly as several bright lights appeared in the tunnel at the end of the subway. It signified the approach of a new train coming into the station.
With it came Randolph attention span as his head shot up in alertness. Taking out his phone, he quickly checked the time before stuffing the rest of the sandwich in his mouth, swallowing it after a chewing a couple times.
As the train stopped, the announcer sounded out, and the doors slid open. Out of them came a mass of people. They had been packed together at the entrance of the doors, but they immediately thinned upon exiting into the open subway station.
As it was midday, there weren't that many people using the metro. The busiest hours were in the morning and night when people would head to and back to work or school.
The amount was still significant, but Randolph's alert state allowed him to pinpoint the ugly face he was looking for once the crowd thinned out, within its ranks.
Standing up, he slid the phone back into his pocket as he walked forward briskly. His face was firm and his steps contained a powerful sense of purpose.