By Friday morning, Jake stopped pretending that the situation didn't feel surreal
Three hundred thousand.
The number kept returning to him in quiet moments, replaying in the back of his mind like an echo that refused to fade. It wasn't distracting—he had already trained himself not to obsess over his account balance—but it carried a strange weight. Reality had shifted in a way that was difficult to ignore.
A week ago that number would have sounded absurd. Now it existed in his trading account.
Jake woke before his alarm went off. Pale morning light filtered through the curtains, casting long stripes across the ceiling above his bed. He lay there for a few seconds, staring upward as his mind replayed the figure again.
"Three hundred thousand." A slow breath left his chest. Then he pushed himself upright and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "We need to stay focused because this is only the beginning," he muttered quietly.
Excitement could be useful. It sharpened motivation and pushed people forward. But discipline was what actually built something lasting.
The smell of toast drifted through the house when Jake stepped into the kitchen.
Aliya stood at the counter in a pair of oversized pajamas, her hair tied into a messy bun that looked like it had given up halfway through the job. She held her phone in one hand while chewing a piece of toast with absolutely no attempt at elegance.
She glanced up when Jake entered. Paused. Then narrowed her eyes. "…Well here comes the rich brother."
Jake opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. "Good morning to you too."
Aliya didn't respond immediately. Instead, she leaned against the counter and watched him carefully, as if studying a strange new species that had wandered into her kitchen.
"No, seriously," she continued. "shouldn't I be getting some benefits since I'm basically your partner in crime as I'm helping you keep your secrets." Jake twisted the bottle cap open. "Keep dreaming?"
"You should learn to spoil your sister a bit more you know."
"Not happening."
"Yes it should," she insisted. "I also want to have a glowing face in the morning."
Jake took a sip of water. "Maybe I just slept well." Aliya tilted her head. "You slept well when you were broke too," she said thoughtfully. "But you didn't glow."
Jake nearly choked on the water. "I don't glow."
"You do internally," she said with absolute confidence. "I can tell trading is working out for you."
"I'm not glowing," Jake replied, setting the bottle down. "And yes, trading is going fine."
Before Aliya could respond, their mother stepped into the kitchen, adjusting the strap of her bag as she prepared to leave for work. "You two started already?" she asked tiredly.
"He's hiding money," Aliya announced immediately, pointing dramatically at Jake. Jake almost spit out the water he had just swallowed. "What?"
Their mother sighed. "Aliya—"
"I'm serious!" Aliya continued. "He's walking around calm all the time. Yesterday he bought good bread instead of the cheap one. And he's also trading and he bought an expensive lap—"
"The bread was on sale!" Jake interrupted loudly before she could finish.
Aliya threw her hands up. "That's not the point!" Their mother shook her head in mild exasperation but glanced at Jake with a hint of curiosity. "You *have* been different lately," she said.
Jake met her gaze calmly. "I'm just trying to do better." The answer sounded simple, but it carried enough truth to satisfy her. She nodded and grabbed her keys. "Just don't forget to eat properly," she said before leaving the apartment.
Aliya, however, remained where she was, still staring at Jake with narrowed eyes. "This investigation is ongoing," she declared.
Jake picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. "You need hobbies."
"I have one," she replied sweetly. "Watching you."
Jake walked out before she could continue. Still, he couldn't stop the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he headed toward campus.
---
Campus carried the restless energy that always came with the end of the week.
Groups of students clustered together across the courtyard, discussing weekend plans, upcoming assignments, and whatever social events were happening that night. Music drifted faintly from someone's speaker near the benches, and the usual hum of conversations filled the air.
Jake walked through it all with quiet focus. His mind was already shifting toward the market.
He reached the study hall earlier than most people and moved to his usual seat by the window. The routine had become familiar over the past few days, and he appreciated the consistency.
He placed his bag on the floor, opened his laptop, and logged into his trading platform and opened the gold chart.
The moment it appeared on the screen, the shift returned. It always happened the same way.
One instant the market looked like chaotic movement, candles rising and falling with no clear pattern. Then the faint pulse behind Jake's left eye began, and his perception sharpened.
Clarity settled into place. The chart transformed.
Movements that had once seemed random now revealed hidden structure. Liquidity zones stood out clearly. Manipulation became visible in the timing of price pushes. Patterns unfolded naturally, like pieces of a puzzle clicking together.
Jake glanced briefly at his balance.
326,880 VM
He allowed himself half a second to acknowledge the number. Then he pushed it aside and focused entirely on the chart.
The first opportunity appeared within minutes.
Price pushed upward aggressively toward a resistance level formed earlier in the session. The move looked convincing enough to lure late buyers into the market.
Jake watched patiently. Momentum was weakening. A rejection wick formed across the resistance zone.
Confirmation.
Jake entered short with four controlled positions. The reaction was almost immediate. Price rolled over and began falling.
+18 pips.
+33.
+49.
Jake secured partial profit and adjusted his stops before letting the remaining trades run. The downward move accelerated as trapped buyers rushed to close their positions.
+71.
+92.
Jake closed everything. His heart gave a small, involuntary jump as the profit registered.
Inside, excitement flickered brightly.
Outwardly, he remained composed. "Good," he murmured quietly. Another setup formed not long afterward. Then another.
By the time the clarity window faded—the mental exhaustion that always followed the heightened perception—Jake leaned back slowly in his chair and checked the final result.
Balance: 421,260 VM
He stared at the number. Four hundred thousand. A quiet laugh escaped before he could stop it. Jake leaned back and rubbed a hand over his face. "This is insane," he whispered.
Not simulated. Not theoretical. Real.
He closed the trading app quickly before the temptation to stare at the number could grow. Obsession led to mistakes. Consistency built wealth.
Still, as he packed his laptop into his bag, the excitement moved through him like a contained storm waiting behind closed doors.
At this pace… One million wasn't months away anymore. It might only be weeks. Possibly even days.
"Jake."
He looked up.
Catharine stood beside the table. Today she carried a notebook instead of her usual tablet, and there was a faint crease between her brows as if she had been debating whether to approach him. "You keep disappearing after lectures," she said.
"I have things to do."
She nodded slowly. "You do seem a bit... busier," she said.
Jake met her gaze. "Is that a problem?"
"Not really." She hesitated before continuing. "It's just noticeable."
The silence that followed felt strangely comfortable.
Then Catharine's expression softened into a small smile. "Anyway, are you coming to the finance networking event next week Friday night?" Jake blinked in surprise. "There's an event?"
"For business and finance students," she explained. "Small one. Mostly final-year students and a few sponsors from local firms. I assumed you'd know."
He didn't. Trading had consumed nearly all of his attention recently. "I might," he said. Catharine studied him for a moment before nodding. "You should come," she said. "It'll be good for you."
Before Jake could answer, another voice cut into the conversation.
"Well, well."
Jake turned. Mason stood a few feet away with two of his usual friends.
Everything about him projected quiet wealth—expensive watch, tailored clothes, relaxed posture. The confidence of someone who had never needed to question his financial security.
His gaze flicked from Jake to Catharine and back again. A slow smirk spread across his face. "Didn't expect you back so soon," Mason said casually. "Heard you took quite a hit."
Catharine stiffened slightly beside Jake.
Jake didn't react. "I'm fine," he said calmly.
Mason studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Good," he replied. "Wouldn't want campus accidents interfering with academics." The words sounded polite.
The meaning underneath them wasn't. Jake held his gaze steadily. "Wouldn't want that."
The silence between them stretched just long enough to feel intentional. Then Mason shrugged and turned away.
"See you around." He walked off with his friends as if the interaction had meant nothing at all.
Catharine exhaled slowly. "He's… an idiot."
Jake closed his laptop and slid it into his bag. "He's irrelevant." But inside, something had shifted. Because Mason hadn't spoken to him casually. He'd been watching.
Jake walked out of the lecture hall and walked home.
---