Dearest XMT...

Alves decided to keep quiet all through the drive to wherever the bank manager was driving him to. He neither wanted to be forward nor did he have an idea what to say. 

It all happened like a total shock to him. He looked at his phone again, making an attempt to count the numbers of zeros behind the one. 

No matter how hard he tried to, he couldn't say for sure what that range of number is called. He knew thousand, million, billion, trillion and --

"We should get you changed first, sir. You must feel uncomfortable in those wet clothes."

The manager offered and pulled over at the same time. 

SIR?

It was like a dream. That was the only definition Alves could find. 

He watched the manager step out of the car and walked towards and into a boutique. To Alves, everything was strange. Ranging from the fact that he was being driven by the manager of Mavelik, and now the manager went to get him a new pair of clothes?!

Not only was Mavelik the biggest bank in Grimmings Hills! It's an acclaimed fact that not every well-fed and edified entrepreneurs could have an account with them. The bank was such a big deal that it was almost a myth. 

The staff of the bank are not even seen on a daily basis. You can't have them walking around like every other person, even on their off days. That was how special and esteemed they were. 

Rumour had it that, not only was the bank directly connected to the world bank, but also, ultra rich men from across the globe have accounts with them. Men who loved to keep their networth hidden. 

Now, to have not even a staff, but the manager of such a bank come pick him up. It was more than a fluster. It was as though he was suffering from an impostor syndrome. 

"What the hell is happening? What's this about? Did someone mistakenly drop this money in my account?"

Alves gulped, unable to cut his gaze from the building where the manager had disappeared into, even though his mind was in the figure in his broken phone.

"There must have been a mistake somewhere. I should clear the misunderstanding before it becomes a huge deal. I don't want madam haunting me down in the name of tarnishing the sacred name of Grandpa. My surname."

He heaved a sigh, coming to a conclusion in his mind. Point in time, the manager was seen, with a package in his hand. He got to the car and stepped in. 

"Sorry for taking your time."

The manager apologised firmly. 

"I think there is a sort of ---"

"Why don't you change first before we talk."

The manger cut him short. He stared at the manager for a while. He thought of it for a while. He took a glance at the clothes. It was a tux. He didn't remember when last he wore one. 

Though Tux did look good on him, yet he was never given whatever he wanted. He was always the black ship. 

He thought of the tux as a bonus in case anything happen with the manager. 

AFTER HE MOVES THE MONEY BACK TO THE OWNER, THE MANAGER WOULD HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO LEAVE THE TUX WITH ME FOR THE STRESS. 

Another conviction to help him adjust to the overwhelming situation. He was excused to a private place and he got changed. 

"I guess we can talk n---"

"Please sir, let's get to my office please."

The manager pleaded with him. Words eluded him. Not becauee he wanted to go with the manager, but because the manager was acting really weird. Treating him like a renowned figure. Something he was never used to. He was used to been treated like a trash, all his life. 

I HAVE TO GO LOOK FOR A HOUSE. THERE IS NO WHERE TO SLEEP TONIGHT. I HOPE HE WON'T MAKE ME MISS THE OPPORTUNITY TO TALK TO CHARLES. 

He heaved a sigh and gave in. The manager nodded at him in a respectable bow. He drove off. 

Soon enough, they arrived at the bank and he was taken into the building through the VIP entrance. 

Some important members of the staff in the bank saw him. Alves could notice the way they looked at him. 

He wasn't interested in anything at all. He had a particular thing occupying his mind. And he wouldn't achieve that until they had arrived at the office of the manager. 

"I think there is some sort of misunderstanding here."

He finally had his chance, unwilling to take a seat even after being offered by the kind manager. He didn't even for once check out how beautifully furnished the office of the manager looked. 

No matter how hard he tried to, he couldn't throw aside the thought of how to convince Charles to take him in for the night. At least by the next day, he would find a way.

"See, Mr manager. I appreciate everything until now, but I'm not a kind of person who reaps from where he didn't labor. As much I'd love to enjoy it, I can't bring myself to doing so."

He sighed again, taking a pause. 

"I'm sure you know what that means sir. You have the wrong person. But one thing that I'd love to say is that..."

He hesitated. Perhaps waiting for the manager to give him a reason to continue. When he waited in vain, he continued. 

"Giving by the amount of stress you've put me through, I won't give back this tux. And I'll take your prolonged silence as a common ground between the both of us. You can move the money back to the account of whoever made the mistake."

It was as though a burden was eased off his mind. He puffed a wave of warm air,

"Have a nice day then."

He turned away from the manager, heading towards the door. 

"You might want to read this before leaving, sir."

The manager called. 

"Not again... please let me go with this tux..."

He cussed under his breath. Then he turned to the manager who was reaching out a piece of A4 paper. 

Alves reluctantly collected the A4. He just wanted to read and leave. 

He started reading, twirling his hasty eyes to do a skim, but he found himself reading all through the content. One because it's short and two, fascinating. 

Dearest XMT, 

   Please in everything you do, do not be in denial of what is rightfully yours. Because this is just the one-hundreth of your fortune. Forgive us for not revealing ourselves yet, there are rogues to tame. 

Your Loyal subjects. 

He read the letter over and over again as though he was missing out on an important detail, yet he got the same exact insinuations. 

When Alves looked up slowly from the letter, his head was blank. 

"If you would have a seat, sir."

The manager offered.