My Reputation System Makes Me Rich

Chapter 3 The Price Of Pride

Damon sneered in disgust as he saw the name written on the transfer receipt—it was the very same dirt-poor laborer he had stomped into the ground just last night. The veins on his neck bulged as he fought to control his rage, utterly incredulous that his easy prey had slipped from his debt trap in the blink of an eye.

"Damn it! How dare that hobo play games with me!" Damon crumpled the pelunasan receipt until it tore to shreds.

"Mr. Damon, should we hunt him down now?" asked one of his henchmen, equally bewildered.

"Leave this old geezer be! We need to move to the market and smash their stalls to pieces this afternoon!"

Outside the hospital, Alex narrowed his eyes as a warm golden light glowed in the corner of his retina, signaling that his City Reputation score had just increased for helping Mr. David. The light faded into a transparent virtual document in his mind, revealing a classified secret: Greenwood Market hadn't been bought by any developer at all. Instead, it was on the brink of total bankruptcy and set to be forcibly seized by the bank tomorrow morning.

The phone in his trousers pocket suddenly vibrated. "Lex, where are you right now? Damon just went wild at the hospital," Sammy's voice sounded extremely panicked over the line.

"Yeah, Sam, just let him bark. Is Mr. David safe inside?" Alex asked, keeping his stride.

"Safe? They're heading to the market right now, Lex! They brought two heavy excavators and plan to flatten our stalls this afternoon!"

"They don't have any right to flatten that place."

"What are you talking about? They were hired by that real estate boss! The land's already been sold!"

"Sam, that's a massive lie. The land still belongs to our old boss. He's bankrupt, and the bank is foreclosing on it tomorrow. Damon was only hired to scare you all so the market would be cleared without a fight before the seizure."

Sammy fell silent, only the heavy sound of his breathing coming through the line. "Hold on... how do you know high-level secrets like this? The point is, even if the bank seizes the market, we're still getting kicked out, and we're done for!"

"Which bank holds the deed to our market?"

"Apex Bank. Every vendor knows the boss always borrowed from those loan sharks. Why? Are you going to beg the manager not to evict us?"

"No, I'm going there to buy it."

"Buy what, Lex?"

"Buy Greenwood Market, Sam. Directly from the bank this afternoon."

"Lex, your head was hit with a wooden plank last night. Please don't go crazy on me!" Sammy's voice verged on a terrified shriek. "The market's debt is definitely in the tens of billions! How are you going to pay for it?"

"Sam, I'm not crazy at all. Mr. David is safe now. Now it's time to save our home."

"You want to play the hero? Lex, don't forget we're just laborers! Even if you got lucky and scored tens of millions this morning for the hospital, that will never be enough to go up against a bank that huge!"

"Do you trust me or not?"

Alex caught the sound of a long, heavy sigh from the other end of the line. "You saved Mr. David's life today. If you tell me to jump, I'll jump with you, but this is pure suicide."

"I need you to gather all the remaining vendors. Have them block the main gates with bamboo, iron, or whatever they can find. Don't let a single one of Damon's excavators get in there."

"Are you insane? They're carrying weapons!"

"You have to hold them off until I bring back the market's deed. Got it?"

"Lex, you better not be lying, because we're putting our lives on the line here."

Alex ended the call and immediately hailed a taxi heading downtown. When he arrived in front of Apex Bank's soaring skyscraper, his blood-stained, bruised appearance was promptly intercepted by two burly security guards at the main entrance.

"Excuse me, sir. Where do you think you're going?" one guard asked, blocking the way with an outstretched arm.

"I'm here to see Mr. Henderson. I have business to settle this afternoon," Alex replied firmly.

The guard chuckled mockingly. "Business? The social services office is across the street. This is a bank, not a soup kitchen."

"I'm not here asking for handouts. Go call Mr. Henderson now. Tell him someone is here to pay off the defaulted loan on Greenwood Market in full."

Both guards instantly knitted their brows. "Greenwood Market? How does a hobo like you know about internal bank affairs? Get out of here before I call the police."

"Call the police then. Call Mr. Henderson too, so he knows his guards just threw away a multi-billion rupiah deal right from the lobby."

"You're looking for trouble." One of the guards grabbed Alex by the collar, preparing to hurl him onto the pavement.

"What's the commotion here?" a deep voice cut through the tension from inside. A middle-aged man wearing an expensive-looking gray suit stepped forward. He was the credit manager in charge of the floor.

"Sir, we have a crazy beggar here claiming he wants to pay off the Greenwood Market debt," one guard reported, slowly releasing his grip.

Mr. Henderson narrowed his eyes, assessing Alex from head to toe. "Do you even know how much the market's current debt is?" the manager asked condescendingly.

"Thirteen billion six hundred million rupiahs," Alex answered smoothly without hesitation. "And that's not including the late foreclosure penalty that goes active tomorrow."

Mr. Henderson's jaw instantly tightened. That exact figure was strictly confidential. "Which boss sent you here?"

"No boss. I came by myself to buy it."

"Buy it? With what? Your smelly blood and sweat?" Mr. Henderson fired off the questions in rapid succession.

"With cash."

"Prove that you have money in your account. If you're short by even a single rupiah, I'll make sure you sleep behind bars tonight for causing a disturbance."

"Prepare the transfer deed in the conference room. I don't do business transactions at the front door like a street beggar," Alex demanded, throwing down the gauntlet.

Mr. Henderson let out a snide laugh, attempting to cover up his nervousness at how calm Alex looked. He motioned for the guards to clear the way and led Alex to the VVIP conference room, placing a tablet on the table.

"You do know this conference room is reserved exclusively for priority clients, don't you? Not for people whose shoes are still caked in market mud," Mr. Henderson sneered, crossing his arms.

"Sir, this mud can be washed off, but the bank's losses from failing to auction that rundown market tomorrow won't ever be washed off your career record."

"You dare lecture me?"

"I'm offering a solution. Thirteen billion six hundred million in cash today. You close your books neatly, and I get the market."

"Enter your account number into this tablet. Our system will check your financial capacity in three seconds. Let's see how much nerve you have to try and fool me."

Alex didn't say much. He grabbed the tablet and typed in his account details. The screen processed for a moment, then displayed a string of digits linked directly to the banking database. Mr. Henderson's eyes bulged as he stared at the eleven-digit sum lined up on the screen.

"Well, sir? Still think I came here just to beg for handouts?"

Mr. Henderson wiped the cold sweat that suddenly dripped down his forehead, then hurriedly gestured for the two guards to leave the room. He stared at Alex with a gaze that now held a mixture of deep respect and visible fear. "Sir, I apologize for our employees' rude behavior earlier," he said, his voice trembling slightly.

"I'm not interested in small talk. Just prepare the documents now," Alex replied, his face expressionless.

"Your funds are indeed ready to be drawn, but with less than twenty-four hours before the heavy machinery flattens that market, are you really sure about risking over ten billion in cash just for a rundown market that's practically dead?"