Adam stood there for a long time, just outside the newly materialized perimeter fence of his very own oil refinery. The sheer scale of it, even scaled down to fit his ten hectares, was breathtaking.

  Towering distillation columns pierced the clear blue sky, intricate networks of pipes gleamed silver in the sunlight, and large storage tanks stood like silent metal giants. His heart was still beating fast, a wild rhythm of disbelief, triumph, and maybe just a little bit of fear at the immense power he had just unleashed.

  He reached out a slightly trembling hand and ran it along the solid steel wall of the nearest structure. It felt cool, smooth, undeniably real. This wasn't a dream. This wasn't a blueprint in his inventory anymore. This was his factory.

  "My factory…" he whispered aloud, the words sounding hushed, almost reverent in the quiet countryside air. "My first real step. Everything… everything starts right here." The words felt heavy with promise, a vow whispered to the future he was so desperately trying to build, a future where he was no longer a victim, but a creator, a power.

  Every detail of the refinery seemed perfect, almost too perfect. The metal shone as if brand new, untouched by weather or wear. The structures looked strong, solid, filled with potential.

  A deep feeling of satisfaction washed over him, a powerful antidote to the lingering aches and pains from John's beating, and the recent stress of the high-stakes negotiations. He had done it. He had taken a seemingly worthless piece of remote land and, with his secret ability, transformed it into a major industrial asset in a matter of minutes.

  With a renewed sense of purpose, Adam turned towards the main gate of his newly created refinery. It looked impressive, functional, ready for operation. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and stepped through the gateway, entering the heart of his nascent empire.

  But as soon as he stepped inside the vast, echoing main hall of what looked like the central processing building, his triumphant smile began to fade. His eyes swept across the enormous factory floor, and the initial awe was quickly replaced by a dawning realization of the work still ahead.

  It was empty. Utterly, eerily empty.

  There were no workers bustling around in hard hats, no engineers checking gauges, no technicians operating machinery. The powerful hum of industry he’d felt at Green Refinery was absent here.

  There was no clanging metal, no hissing steam, just a vast, hollow silence. And worse, as his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light inside, he saw that while the structure was complete, the systems were not.

  Wires hung loosely from control panels, some clearly disconnected, others ending abruptly in mid-air. Pipes weren't all fully joined; valves looked untested. It looked… incomplete. Like a perfect model kit that still needed the final, crucial connections made.

  Adam paused, standing in the middle of the silent, cavernous space, thinking hard. He ran a hand through his hair, frowning slightly. "Right," he said to himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

  "Of course. It makes sense." He had copied the physical structure of the Green Refinery complex, scaled down. But his power, it seemed, copied objects, not operating systems, not utility connections, not the living workforce. "I copied the design, the buildings, the machinery," he reasoned aloud.

  "But that doesn't mean it actually works right out of the box. It's like getting a brand new computer without plugging it in or installing the software."

  He looked around again at the silent machinery, the dangling wires. "I still need to connect everything. I need power hooked up. I need water supply lines established. I need fuel to even start the generators." The impressive exterior hid an inert, non-functional interior. Building the factory instantly was one thing; making it operational was another challenge entirely.

  He also remembered the world he was in. Fieland wasn't like the Earth he vaguely recalled from his past life. Technology here felt older, maybe like the early 2000s. Setting up complex utility connections for a massive industrial site like this, especially in a remote area, wouldn't be simple or quick using conventional methods. It would require permits, infrastructure work, dealing with utility companies – all things that could attract unwanted attention.

  The task ahead felt daunting, a sudden splash of cold reality on his earlier euphoria. But Adam wasn't easily discouraged. He had faced worse. This was just another problem to solve, another obstacle to overcome.

  His vision wasn't just about having a refinery; it was about building an empire, creating jobs, changing the economy, getting revenge. A few unconnected wires and pipes wouldn't stop him. This empty factory wasn't a failure; it was just the next stage of the challenge.

  With that renewed determination solidifying in his mind, Adam walked back outside into the sunlight. He carefully pulled the main factory gates shut behind him, making sure they looked secure, even if there was nothing operational inside just yet. He started walking back towards the dusty road, heading for the lonely bus stop, his mind already busy tackling the next set of problems.

  As he walked, his thoughts drifted back to the conversation with Mr. Kim just a short while ago. Kim’s warnings about the 'jungle' of the business world, his practical questions about manpower and equipment… they felt even more relevant now, standing before his silent, non-operational refinery.

  Kim was counting on him, believing his lie about the equipment already being set up. Adam needed to make that lie true, and fast, before Kim started asking more difficult questions or wanted to visit the site.

  And then there was the money. His mind replayed his own confident words to Kim: "I have no shortage of money." He recalled Kim's shocked face when he'd offered the two-million-dollar annual salary. Adam walked slowly along the quiet country road, kicking absently at loose stones, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. 'I told him I have basically unlimited cash,' Adam recalled silently. 'But that's… not exactly true. Not in the way he thinks.'

  He mentally checked his inventory. After paying the farmer the initial $100,000, and considering the cash he’d used for bribes and the apartment rent, he currently had around $710,000 in actual, usable currency stored away. Enough for the final land payment, plus a small cushion. "That's a lot compared to having nothing," he admitted to himself.

  "But it's nowhere near 'unlimited'. And it's definitely not enough to fund the massive operational costs of starting a refinery, hiring dozens or hundreds of people, and paying Kim's outrageous salary for long."

  'So, why not just copy more money?' the obvious solution presented itself. 'I copied that $100 bill easily enough. I could copy these bundles Kim paid me. Turn $700,000 into $7 million, or $70 million…' The thought was incredibly tempting. Instant wealth. Infinite resources.

  But a cold knot of caution tightened in his stomach. He remembered something crucial. "Serial numbers." Every single dollar bill printed by the government has a unique serial number, a specific code to identify it. His Copy & Paste skill, as far as he knew, created exact duplicates. If he copied a stack of bills, he wouldn't just be copying the amount; he'd be copying the exact same serial numbers over and over again.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "I could probably get away with copying one or two bills," he reasoned.

  "Like that $100 I used for the receptionist bribe. Who checks the serial number on a single hundred? But if I start creating millions… if I start paying salaries, buying large equipment, making big deposits… those duplicate serial numbers would eventually show up somewhere in the banking system. Multiple bills with the exact same unique code? That's a huge red flag."

  It wouldn't take long for the authorities – the treasury department, the police, maybe even Mayor Walker's connections if they were looking for ways to trip him up – to spot the pattern. An investigation would be launched. They'd trace the counterfeit bills back to their source. Back to him.

  "I can't risk that," he concluded grimly. "Getting caught for mass counterfeiting would destroy everything instantly. Prison would be the least of my worries if the Walkers got involved." He needed wealth, yes, vast amounts of it. But he needed it to be legitimate, or at least, untraceable in a different way. Copying money directly was too dangerous, too easily detected.

  "I need another way to build my real wealth. The oil… the oil has to be the key. Selling the oil is how I generate clean, untraceable money." Which brought him back to the problem of making his refinery operational.

  Adam’s eyes scanned the busy street as the bus finally arrived back near his apartment complex on the city outskirts. The bus door hissed open, and he climbed aboard, the familiar rumble a comforting sound after the strangeness of his day. He found an empty seat by the window, his gaze automatically turning back in the direction of his distant, hidden land.

  As the bus started to move, pulling away from the stop, he overheard snippets of conversation from the seats around him. He saw the bus driver glancing curiously in his rearview mirror, looking back towards the area Adam had just come from. He saw a couple of other passengers leaning towards their windows, pointing, murmuring to each other with confused expressions.

  Then, he clearly heard the driver lean over and ask an elderly passenger seated near the front, his voice filled with genuine puzzlement, "Hey, Martha, you live out this way, right? Has that… big factory… thing… always been out there by the old Johnson farm road? I swear, I drove this route yesterday, and that whole area was just empty fields."

  The elderly passenger mumbled something indistinct, sounding equally confused. Adam listened to the low murmurs of surprise and confusion ripple through the front of the bus. His refinery, materialized instantly out of nowhere, was already attracting attention, even from miles away.

  People who knew the area noticed the impossible appearance of a massive industrial complex overnight. He sank a little lower in his seat, pulling his cap down slightly. He couldn't afford this kind of attention. He needed his operation to remain secret for as long as possible. This was another complication he hadn't fully anticipated.

  He didn't say anything, didn't react, just stared out the window, his mind racing again, planning, strategizing. The silent, empty factory wasn't just a challenge; it was also a vulnerability. He needed to get it running, yes, but he also needed to manage the perception, the questions, the inevitable curiosity its sudden existence would generate.

  After a few more stops, the bus reached the small station nearest to his neighborhood on the city's edge. Adam got off, melting into the sparse crowd. He walked slowly through the simple, clean streets back towards his apartment building.

  This area felt calmer, slower-paced than the city center, almost like a large town waiting patiently for something to happen. Adam felt a connection to that feeling. This city, this country, was waiting for change. And he intended to be the one to bring it.

  As he walked, his thoughts kept circling back to the factory, the oil, the money, the risks, and the crucial need for help. Kim was the first step. But Kim couldn't do everything alone. They needed more people. Skilled people. Trustworthy people. Where would they find them? How could they recruit them without revealing too much, without alerting Green Refinery or the Walkers?

  Meanwhile, across the city, in a small, quiet café filled with the soft clinking of cups and the gentle murmur of low conversation, David Kim sat nursing a cup of coffee. The café was simple, unassuming, with plain wooden tables and comfortable chairs – the kind of place where people could talk privately without attracting too much attention. He looked calmer now than when Adam had first met him, but his eyes still held a thoughtful intensity.

  Across the small table from him sat a woman, likely around thirty years old. Her name was Monica. She had long, dark hair pulled back neatly and wore a simple, practical brown dress. She wasn't flashy, but her eyes were sharp, intelligent, and currently filled with a mixture of outright surprise and considerable doubt. She listened intently, her head tilted slightly, as Kim spoke.

  "...and so," Kim was saying, his voice low but earnest, "that's the situation. I left Green Refinery. Effective immediately."

  Monica stared at him, her coffee cup halfway to her lips, forgotten. "You left?" she repeated, her voice clear but incredulous. "David, you had a senior management position! Good pay, benefits, security! You just… quit? To join some brand new, completely unknown company? Started by some kid you just met?" Her eyebrow shot up skeptically. "And you're the CEO?"

  Mr. Kim simply nodded, a faint, almost challenging smile playing on his lips. He took a slow sip of his coffee before speaking again. "I didn't just join this new company, Monica," he said, his tone firm yet gentle. "I came here today to recruit you."

  Monica’s eyes widened in genuine shock. She almost choked on her coffee. "Me?! Are you completely crazy, David?" she exclaimed, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper, leaning across the table. "You want me to leave my stable job – okay, maybe it's a bit boring, but it's stable – at the rubber manufacturing company to join this… this 'Fire Corporation'?" She practically spat the name out, clearly finding it as ridiculous as Kim initially had.

  "You said yourself it's just some kid! You don't even know if he's legitimate! You don't know how long this will last! What if it's just some kind of elaborate scam? What if it all collapses in a month?" Her words tumbled out, filled with concern for Kim and disbelief at his proposal.

  Kim smiled slightly again, that faint smile holding a hint of secret knowledge, or maybe just stubborn hope. "Maybe the company is unknown now," he conceded calmly. "And yes, maybe the founder is young and unconventional." He paused, meeting her worried gaze directly.

  "But Monica, he gave me complete freedom. Freedom to build something from the ground up, the right way this time. Freedom to implement the ideas Green Refinery always ignored. And," – he leaned closer, his voice persuasive – "that's exactly what I'm offering you. A key role. Real responsibility. The freedom to use your skills, your intelligence, to actually shape something meaningful."

  He saw the flicker of interest behind her doubt. He pressed on. "I know your current job doesn't challenge you. I know you're capable of so much more. And I guarantee," – his voice was steady, confident – "that you will earn significantly more with us than you do now. Much more. Plus, you'll have the chance to build something new, something potentially huge, right from the very beginning." He painted a picture of opportunity, autonomy, and financial reward, directly targeting what he knew were her likely frustrations and ambitions.

  Monica sat quietly for a long moment, visibly torn. She looked down at her coffee cup, then back up at Kim. The familiar comfort and security of her current job warred with the undeniable lure of Kim’s offer – more money, more responsibility, the excitement of a startup, the chance to work with Kim again (they had apparently worked together before, likely at Green Refinery or another company).

  The idea of leaving her predictable routine was scary, yes. But the thought of staying, of potentially wasting her talent on mundane tasks forever… that was maybe even scarier. A small spark of curiosity, of ambition, began to glow brighter in her eyes.

  She knew David Kim. He was smart, experienced, and generally cautious, despite his current impulsive leap. He wasn't a fool. If he truly believed in this kid, this 'Adam', and this 'Fire Corporation', enough to quit his high-paying job and take this massive risk… then maybe, just maybe, there was something real there. Something worth considering.

  Seeing her hesitation, sensing she was close to being persuaded, Kim spoke again, his voice firm but filled with conviction. "You know me, Monica," he said quietly. "You know I wouldn't throw away my career, my stability, on a whim. I wouldn't do that unless I saw something truly extraordinary, something worth chasing." His eyes were serious now.

  "I saw something in this kid, Adam. A spark. A resourcefulness. A determination I haven't seen in a long time. Maybe he's unconventional, maybe he's got secrets, I don't know. But even if he faces setbacks – and trust me, we will face setbacks – I have this gut feeling… I know he'll find a way to rise again. He's a survivor."

  Kim paused, letting his words sink in, letting his own conviction resonate. He then added, his tone softening, becoming almost vulnerable, "And honestly, Monica… I don't want to look back in a few years and be the guy who missed out on this chance because I was too scared, too cynical. I want to be in the arena this time." His eyes searched her face, silently pleading for her to see the potential he saw, to take the leap with him.

  Monica’s mind flashed back to her office, the endless spreadsheets, the routine tasks, the feeling of being a small cog in a big, impersonal machine. She thought about her skills in logistics, management, organization – skills she felt were being underutilized, wasted. Kim’s words about freedom, about shaping something new, about making a real difference… they resonated deeply. The risk was huge. But the potential reward… maybe it was worth it.

  After another long, thoughtful pause, Monica finally looked up, meeting Kim’s hopeful gaze. A small, decisive smile touched her lips. "Okay, David," she said, her voice soft but clear, the decision made.

  "You're lucky I trust you." She emphasized the 'you'. "Forget the kid for now. I'll join you – but only because you're the CEO, and I trust your judgment, even when it seems crazy." Her statement was both an acceptance and a gentle challenge, a sign that she was placing her faith in Kim, willing to take this leap based on their past association and his conviction.

  Kim's face lit up with genuine excitement and relief. A broad grin spread across his face. "Monica! That's fantastic! You won't regret this!" He reached his hand eagerly across the table towards her.

  The gesture was simple, but filled with significance. It represented the foundation of their new venture, a promise of partnership, a commitment to face the uncertain future together. Monica took a deep breath, her own smile widening slightly, mirroring Kim’s enthusiasm now. With quiet determination, she reached out and shook his hand firmly, sealing the deal.

  In that quiet corner of the simple café, amidst the gentle clinking of coffee cups, Fire Corporation had just gained its second key member, its first official hire after the CEO himself.

  There was no champagne, no fancy signing bonus ceremony, no grand announcement. Just a handshake, a shared look of determination, and the quiet, thrilling promise of building something extraordinary from absolutely nothing.

  The idea of an empire, once just a flicker in Adam's mind, felt one crucial step closer to becoming a reality. Monica's decision, her skills, her trust in Kim, added a vital new layer of strength and legitimacy to their nascent team. The real work was about to begin.