Five days. That’s how long Adam had until the land deal was officially, irrevocably finalized. Five days until the ten hectares of remote farmland, now secretly harboring a fortune in black gold beneath its surface, would be legally his.

  It felt like both an eternity and no time at all. The beating he’d suffered at the hands of John Walker and his thugs was a harsh, painful reminder that his enemies were close, aware of his presence, and actively hostile. He couldn't afford to be complacent. He needed to move smart, move fast, and most importantly, stay hidden.

  The first difficult decision came quickly. Staying at Eric’s house was no longer an option. It felt warm, safe, like a temporary bubble of normalcy in his chaotic life. But he knew, with sickening certainty, that his presence there put his friend and his kind family in danger.

  John Walker knew Eric was his friend; it wouldn't take much for John's malice to spill over and target them, just as it had happened before, in the other timeline he vaguely remembered.

  He couldn’t let his problems bring ruin to the Hendersons again. Gratitude warred with practicality, but safety – theirs and his – had to come first.

  So, with quiet regret, Adam packed his few belongings. He thanked Eric and his parents profusely, making up a vague excuse about finding a temporary job placement that required him to live closer to the work site.

  Eric looked worried, unconvinced, but didn't press him too hard, perhaps sensing Adam needed space, or perhaps fearing the real reasons behind his sudden departure after showing up battered and bruised. Leaving that cozy house, the place that had offered him shelter and kindness when he had nothing, felt like severing another tie to normalcy, but it was necessary.

  His next step was finding a new place to stay, somewhere discreet, somewhere off the beaten path. Using a small portion of the money he’d earned from the initial gold sales to Thomas, Adam found a small, unassuming apartment for rent. It wasn't in a trendy neighborhood or near the bustling city center.

  Instead, it was located on the dusty outskirts, in a quiet, almost forgotten corner where the city slowly faded into neglected industrial areas and empty lots. The building itself was old, only two stories high, slightly run-down, with peeling paint and creaky stairs.

  Few people seemed to come and go; the streets around it were mostly quiet, especially at night.

  The apartment itself was modest – just a small room, a tiny kitchenette, and a cramped bathroom. It was sparsely furnished, clean enough, but lacking any real warmth or comfort. The rent, however, was surprisingly, almost outrageously high for such a basic place in such a remote location.

  Adam suspected the landlord preyed on people who needed privacy or had reasons to avoid nosy neighbors and didn't ask too many questions. But Adam didn't care about the cost. The $105,000+ in his inventory felt like an ocean of wealth compared to his previous poverty.

  What mattered most was anonymity and security. This place offered both. It was a safe haven, far from prying eyes, far from the places John Walker might expect him to be.

  Moving in was simple. Adam owned almost nothing – just his worn canvas bags containing a change of clothes, his notebooks, and the all-important, invisible inventory holding his cash, the land certificate, the copied oil, and the water bottle.

  There were no boxes to unpack, no furniture to arrange. He simply dropped his bags in the corner of the bare room. This wasn't meant to be a home;

  it was a temporary shelter, a secure base of operations, a place where he could rest his aching body, heal from the beating, and plan his next moves without drawing unwanted attention.

  The landlord was an old man who ran a small convenience shop on the ground floor of the building. His face was a roadmap of wrinkles, etched by years of hard work and probably disappointment.

  He sat outside his shop most days on a worn plastic chair, watching the quiet street, his eyes sharp and observant despite his age. When Adam first arrived, the landlord gave him a quick, measuring glance – the kind that assessed a new tenant without asking direct questions – before turning his attention back to scanning the empty street for the rare customer.

  His routine seemed simple: watch, wait, serve, and likely, collect the exorbitant rent without fuss. Adam appreciated the lack of curiosity. He paid his deposit and first month's rent in cash, no questions asked, and kept to himself.

  He spent the next few days carefully, cautiously. His body was still recovering from the beating. Bruises bloomed in ugly shades of purple and yellow across his ribs and face. Moving still sent jolts of pain through him, but each day felt slightly better than the last.

  He rested when he needed to, but his mind was constantly working. He couldn’t afford to just hide and wait. He needed more resources.

  He knew he needed the full $600,000 ready for the final land payment in just a few days. The money he’d received from Thomas for the initial eight bars wasn't enough. He needed to sell more gold. But the encounter with John served as a stark warning. He couldn't be reckless. He couldn't just walk into shops flashing gold bars anymore.

  So, he devised a new strategy. Using his Copy & Paste skill, he didn't materialize the massive 12.6 kg bars. Instead, he focused on the gold icon in his inventory and mentally commanded smaller portions to appear – maybe a 1 kg bar, or even smaller, more manageable chunks that wouldn't immediately scream 'major illicit deal'.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  He then spent his days traveling to different parts of the city, visiting numerous small, independent pawn shops and jewelry buyers, far away from each other, often in less reputable districts.

  He never sold too much in one place. Maybe a small bar here, a couple of ounces there. He haggled sometimes, accepted slightly lower prices other times, anything to avoid raising red flags.

  He varied his appearance slightly each time – wearing a hat one day, glasses the next, changing his route. It was exhausting, time-consuming, and nerve-wracking work, constantly looking over his shoulder, always aware of the potential danger. But it was necessary.

  He carefully spread his transactions across dozens of different locations over those few days. Each sale was calculated, discreet. He dealt in cash only, leaving no paper trail. He needed to accumulate the money quickly, but safely. His goal was to gather enough for the final land payment without creating a noticeable pattern, without making too much noise in the underground gold market.

  Slowly, painstakingly, his cash reserve grew. He mentally tracked the total in his inventory, watching the number climb: $200,000, $300,000, $450,000… He was getting closer.

  However, the danger he was trying to avoid was real. During one transaction, at a slightly larger pawn shop run by a nervous man with shifty eyes, the shopkeeper pulled him aside after buying a small gold ingot.

  "Hey kid," the man had whispered, glancing around nervously. "Just… be careful, okay? Word's starting to get around. Talk on the street… about someone new, moving a lot of gold. Good quality stuff, but… appearing outta nowhere." The shopkeeper’s tone was a mixture of warning and thinly veiled curiosity. "People are starting to notice. Asking questions. You keep this up… someone powerful might get interested. And not in a good way."

  The shopkeeper’s warning sent a cold chill down Adam’s spine, confirming his fears. He was moving too fast, leaving ripples. Even spreading out his sales wasn't enough if the volume was too high overall.

  Rumors in the underworld could travel fast, reaching the ears of organized crime, corrupt officials, or worse, someone connected to the Walkers.

  If he was discovered now, if his source of wealth was questioned, everything he had worked for – the land, the oil, the hope for revenge – could crumble into dust. His enemies would close in, and this time, they might not stop at just a beating.

  That warning solidified his decision to lie low after securing the necessary funds. The remote apartment, the quiet streets, the minimal contact with anyone – it was the right choice. He finished his last few careful sales, pushing his cash total just over the $600,000 mark needed for the final payment, plus a small cushion.

  He now had roughly $710,000 in his inventory, along with the certificate, the copied oil, and the water bottle. He decided not to sell any more gold for now. The risk was too high. He had what he needed for the immediate next step: finalizing the land ownership.

  One bright morning, the fifth day since the initial agreement, Adam stood waiting at a bus stop near his secluded apartment building. The sun felt warm on his skin, a contrast to the lingering aches in his body. He glanced down at the cheap digital watch he’d bought.

  "10:00 AM," he muttered under his breath. His appointment at the Property Department was scheduled for 10:30 AM. This was it. The final step to secure the land, the foundation of his future.

  He felt a familiar mix of nervousness and excitement bubbling inside him. Today was the day his most important plan truly began. Every second felt significant, charged with potential. The bus arrived, and he climbed aboard, his mind already focused on the meeting ahead.

  He arrived at the Property Department building a few minutes early. It looked just as modest and official as it had five days ago. He walked slowly towards the entrance, his steps measured, deliberate. He mentally reviewed the process, the paperwork, ensuring he was prepared. He needed this to go smoothly.

  As he reached the gate, his eyes caught sight of a familiar figure waiting patiently near the entrance. It was the farmer, Kis. He looked cleaned up, wearing slightly better clothes than before, but the lines of worry and hardship were still etched on his face. He looked anxious, hopeful, perhaps still a bit disbelieving that this day had actually arrived.

  Adam was slightly surprised to see Kis already waiting. He approached him with a curious smile. "Good morning, Mr. Kis. I didn't expect you to be here quite so early."

  Kis turned, startled slightly, then offered a small, weary smile in return. His eyes held a hint of irony, a trace of his earlier skepticism. "Morning, Adam," he replied. "Couldn't sleep much. After our first meeting, I went home and did some digging. Asked around. Checked official records. Turns out," he sighed, shaking his head slightly,

  "you and that city agent were right. My land… officially… it's pretty much worthless on the open market right now." He looked directly at Adam, his expression a mixture of resignation and genuine curiosity.

  "I still don't understand for the life of me what you see in it, why you'd pay so much… but you kept your word so far. If you're really willing to pay the rest… I'm certainly not going to refuse."

  Adam's smirk deepened slightly. The farmer's doubt worked in his favor. "Good," he said coolly. "Then let's finish our business, shall we?"

  Kis nodded, his expression becoming serious again. "You… you brought the full amount? The final payment?" he asked, his voice betraying a hint of lingering anxiety.

  Adam patted the simple canvas bag slung over his shoulder confidently. Inside, safely tucked away in his inventory, was the $600,000 needed, plus the extra he’d accumulated. "Of course," he answered smoothly.

  Without wasting another moment, the two of them walked into the Property Department building. They navigated the quiet corridors, following the signs to the small office designated for finalizing land transfers. The air inside smelled of paper and bureaucracy. The quiet hum of computers and the occasional rustle of documents felt worlds away from the noise and danger of the city streets.

  The final paperwork was waiting. An official oversaw the process, checking documents, verifying identities, explaining the legalities. Adam accessed his inventory and materialized the $600,000 in neat stacks of cash onto the table.

  The farmer’s eyes widened again at the sight of so much money, but he quickly signed the remaining documents, his hand surprisingly steady this time. The official stamped the papers with heavy, decisive thuds, making the transfer complete and legally binding.

  It was done. The land was now officially, unequivocally, Adam's.

  After completing all the formalities, Adam and Kis stepped back out of the small office and into the main corridor. The sense of accomplishment hung in the air between them. Kis turned to Adam, the relief on his face immense, though tinged with the sadness of his loss. He offered a polite nod.

  "Congratulations, Kid," Kis said, his voice sincere. "From this moment on, you are the rightful owner of that land. Treat it well."

  Adam smiled, watching as Kis, clutching the documents confirming his payment received, walked away towards the exit, presumably to start dealing with the problems that had forced this sale. Adam reached into his own bag and pulled out the freshly stamped ownership deed, the official title papers bearing his name. He ran his fingers over the embossed seal, the crisp paper feeling solid, real. This was it. The key.

  "This," he thought quietly, his heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and fierce determination, "this is the key to the future I've been fighting for. The foundation is laid."

  Without another word, Adam carefully placed the precious deed into his inventory for safekeeping. He turned and walked out of the Property Department building, stepping back into the sunlight. As he walked away, his mind wasn't just calculating; it was soaring. The land was his. The secret oil reserve beneath it was his. The next steps of his grand plan, the building of his empire, could now truly begin.

  He thought again about Fieland, his adopted country. Small, resource-poor, dependent on expensive foreign oil controlled by powerful corporations. A nation stuck technologically somewhere around the year 2008 compared to the Earth he vaguely remembered. The oil giants held sway, their prices impacting everyone, enriching the few while the many struggled.

  But Adam had a secret advantage. He had knowledge of future trends, perhaps, but more importantly, he now controlled a hidden, domestic source of the very resource the country desperately needed.

  While the rest of Fieland operated under the thumb of foreign oil powers, Adam was poised to become a new player, an invisible hand capable of manipulating the flow of energy and wealth from within.

  The land wasn't just land anymore. It was the starting point for power plants, refineries, industries – all fueled by his secret oil. It was the leverage he needed to challenge the status quo, to build his own influence, and eventually, perhaps, to reshape the entire economic landscape of Fieland. The dependency that weakened the nation could become his strength.

  A slow, satisfied grin touched Adam's lips as he walked down the busy street, blending into the crowd but feeling fundamentally separate from it. He was no longer just reacting to the world; he was preparing to act upon it. The future belonged to those who had the vision and the power to shape it. And Adam, armed with his secret skill and his newfound resources, intended to shape it decisively. The game had just begun.