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Hundreds of thousands, or even millions of people, have the very same dream. A dream that only the greedy can make an attempt at, and one that only the greedier can accomplish: Striking it rich. However, as if this alone wasn't enough, a dream of much stronger caliber causes the rise and fall of geniuses across the world. To them, becoming wealthy isn't enough. To them, the world itself should fall under their long list of possessions. To them, the word "greed" can't begin to explain their desires. They are the ones who have sinned more than any man, the ones whose web of lies is thick enough to form the most effective of masks. Those geniuses have a title that infuriates the masses when merely mentioned; they... are plutocrats.
Damon Fortuno Crest.
The first, middle, and last name given to those prodigies who eventually succeed the world's greatest business empire. The Crest family's empire.
Stocks, bonds, crypto, shipping, fast food, jewelry— any of the following and more, are areas of business dominated by the Crest family. But of course, this blessed lineage is born of hardship.
"Damon... it seems today is your fifth birthday," a grizzly voice reverberated throughout the Room.
The Room is a cursed place, the place where all fifteen Damon Fortuno Crests had been trained, starting from the tender age of five. It needs no other name because that is what it is, a room. At least, that's what the father of the newly bred, five-year-old Damon Fortuno Crest says.
This room is completely lacking, not a trace of furniture to be found.
"Yes, father."
It's a robotic response, to be sure. But, Damon's father had always said that emotions such as happiness or sadness, were utterly useless.
"This gap in the door,"—Damon's father pointed at a small, rectangular gap that was positioned in the middle of the door leading to the Room—"will be where we drop your food."
"Yes, father."
Yes, father—those had been the only words Damon had uttered since the early morning of his fourth birthday. Complete obedience was to be expected, after all.
"The servants will be bringing you a bucket in order for you to urinate and defecate, do not use it too much, I'll only have it replaced once a week."
This didn't please Damon, but he couldn't show it. If he were to betray his father's expectations, there would be no telling when a new Damon Fortuno Crest would appear.
"Yes... father."
For a moment, Damon felt that his father was pitying him. A certain light that you would never see in the eyes of a Damon Fortuno Crest had escaped him, but it wasn't worth mentioning. After all, his father, who despises the very word "emotion" so much so, would never betray himself in this regard. Still, as they gazed into one another's eyes, Damon felt that his father was granting him relief in the form of silence, one last time.
"Damon... just as my father, my father's father, my father's father's father, and I have done, you will be staying in this room for two years. Your training has begun, and I hope you do not disappoint me."
"..."
Damon's breath began to slow, and he wanted to ask his father to not do this or to at least grant him another year of freedom. But, what he said instead, had surprised both him and his father.
"Damon Fortuno Crest should never falter in the face of difficulty. Damon Fortuno Crest should never forget about the difficulties of the poor. Damon Fortuno Crest should always strive to be more experienced than his adversaries. Damon Fortuno Crest isn't a genius. Demon Fortuno Crest will continue to bring the Crest Family's businesses to greater heights. Yes, father."
"...Good."
