Rise Of The Imprisoned Student

CH-6

Alex walked out of Gold Crest Bank slowly.

His steps were steady.

But his mind was not.

He looked down at the envelope in his hand. Then at the black card between his fingers.

“Eight hundred billion…” he muttered.

He stopped walking.

Then he said it again, this time slower. “Eight. Hundred. Billion.”

He let out a dry chuckle. “So the machine really said that.”

He nodded to himself. “Yeah… it did.”

He stood there for a moment like a man trying to wake up from a dream.

“Which means…” He paused.

“I have eight hundred billion dollars.”

He shook his head immediately. “Impossible.”

His lips curved into a faint smile. “Alex, you’ve been in prison too long. Now you’re hallucinating money.”

But the card was still in his hand.

The envelope was still real.

The memory of the machine’s voice was still clear.

“Account balance: Eight hundred billion dollars.”

Alex exhaled slowly. “So it’s real.”

He started walking again.

“But how?” he murmured.

“That old man… Victor…”

He frowned slightly. “Who gives someone eight hundred billion like they’re tipping a waiter?”

He clicked his tongue. “That’s not generosity. That’s something else.”

He walked for a few minutes.

Then suddenly stopped again. “No… I need to confirm something.”

He looked around.

A man was walking past while scrolling through his phone.

Alex stepped forward. “Excuse me.”

The man looked up.

Alex spoke calmly. “Can I borrow your phone for a minute? I need to check something quickly.”

The man hesitated. He glanced at Alex’s clothes.

Old hoodie. Worn jeans.

He looked doubtful.

Alex sighed lightly. “I’m not going to run away. I just need one minute.”

The man shrugged. “Fine. One minute.” He then handed over the phone to Alex.

Alex nodded. “Thanks.”

He opened the browser immediately.

Then typed: Top richest people in the world.

The page loaded.

Images. Names. Net worth.

Alex’s eyes moved to the top of the list.

Number one was Victor Hale.

Alex’s fingers paused. He tapped the image and the picture enlarged.

Same face.

Same man.

The one lying on the ground getting beaten.

The one who said, “You saved me.”

Alex stared at the screen. “…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He let out a low whistle. “So I saved the richest man in the world.”

He scrolled down the list and the second name on the list, which was the second richest person in the world, had the total sum of Five hundred billion dollars.

Alex blinked.

Then looked back at his card.

“Eight hundred billion…”

He looked at the screen again.

“Five hundred billion…”

He let out a quiet laugh.

“That means…” he said slowly, “I’m richer than number two.”

He tilted his head slightly. “So where does that put me?”

A pause.

Then a wry smile. “Second richest in the world.”

He chuckled again. “Alexander Hayes… ex-convict… second richest man alive.”

He shook his head. “That sounds like a bad joke.”

He kept staring at the phone.

Muttering quietly.

“Eight hundred billion… second place… what kind of ridiculous script is this…”

The man who lent him the phone frowned as he watched Alex muttering to himself.

His expression slowly changed.

From confusion…

To suspicion…

To disgust.

“Hey,” the man said sharply.

Alex didn’t respond. “…Eight hundred billion… I’m number two…” Alex murmured.

The man’s face darkened. “What the hell are you talking about?” he snapped.

Alex blinked and looked up.

The man snatched the phone from his hand.

“You’re crazy,” he said bluntly and took a step back. “I shouldn’t have given my phone to a lunatic.”

He looked Alex up and down with a sneer. “Talking about billions in those clothes? You look like you can’t even afford breakfast.”

He scoffed. “Next time, go mutter to yourself somewhere else,” he said, turned and walked off.

“Crazy guy,” he added under his breath.

Alex watched him leave then looked down at himself.

Old hoodie.

Faded jeans.

Worn sneakers.

He nodded slightly. “…Fair enough.”

A faint smile appeared. “I do look like a crazy person.”

He exhaled as he rubbed his chin. He then looked up.

Across the street, a boutique stood. It was a very large boutique.

Clean glass windows.

Mannequins dressed in sharp suits.

Luxury brands.

Alex narrowed his eyes slightly. “…Guess I should fix that,” he muttered as he crossed the road.

Then pushed the door to the boutique open and walked in.

The air smelled fresh. Everything looked… expensive.

Alex walked calmly between the racks.

He glanced at a few outfits then stopped at a section.

His eyes landed on a simple shirt. It looked clean and fitted.

He picked it up and held it against his body.

“…Not bad,” he murmured.

He turned slightly, trying to picture it.

Then—

“HEY!” a loud voice interrupted him.

Alex turned slowly and saw a staff member walking toward him quickly.

His face was full of suspicion.

“What are you doing?” He demanded.

Alex blinked. “Looking at clothes.”

The staff scoffed. “Looking?” He repeated mockingly.

His eyes scanned Alex from head to toe.

“You?” he said with a sneer. “Looking at these clothes?”

Alex raised a brow slightly. “…Yes.”

The staff folded his arms. “Who let you in?” he asked coldly.

Alex replied calmly. “The door was open.”

The staff's face darkened. “Don’t play smart,” he snapped.

He pointed at the shirt in Alex's hand. “Put that down.”

Alex looked at it, then at him. “Why?”

His eyes widened slightly. “Why?” he repeated like he couldn’t believe it.

“Yes,” Alex said calmly. “Why?”

He let out a short laugh. “Because you’re not buying it.”

Alex tilted his head. “And you know that… how?”

He sneered. “Because I have eyes.”

He pointed at Alex's clothes. “People who can afford these don’t dress like… that.”

“I think we have a thief,” the staff member said as he straightened.

The word echoed loudly and several customers turned to look.

Alex frowned slightly. “A thief?” he repeated.

The staff crossed his arms. “Yes. A thief.”

He pointed at Alex again. “You walked in here looking like that and went straight for expensive clothes.” His lips curled. “What else would you be here for?”

Alex sighed softly. “You could try asking before jumping to conclusions.”

The staff laughed mockingly. “Ask?” he said. “Should I also ask the rats in the kitchen if they’re planning to steal cheese?”

A few people in the crowd chuckled.

Alex gave a faint wry smile. “…Nice comparison.”

“Thank you,” he replied proudly. “Now put the shirt down.”

Alex looked at the shirt again. “And why would I do that?” he asked calmly.

“Because it’s obvious—to me and everyone here—that you can’t afford it, and you’re trying to steal it,” the staff member replied, his tone growing more agitated.

“So if you know what’s good for you, put that shirt down right now before I call the manager,” he added sharply.

“I’ve told you, I’m not a—” Alex began, trying to explain that he wasn’t a thief, but the staff member cut him off before he could finish.

He turned and shouted loudly, “Manager!”