The Hidden King Of Northwood University

2: The Trillionaire's Cold Ramen

“Drop me off at the corner of 5th and Main,” Leo said, his voice was sounding strange even to his own ears. It was the first time in three years he hadn’t used a polite, shaky tone.

His grandfather didn't move a muscle in the back of the car. The old man just nodded once. “As you wish. But remember, Leo. Owning the world is easy. Keeping it is the hard part.”

Leo stepped out of the luxury car two blocks away from the slum he called home. He didn't want the people in his neighborhood to see the Rolls-Royce. Not yet. He walked through the rain, his wet sneakers were squelching with every step. The neighborhood smelled like rotten trash and old grease. Graffiti covered the brick walls, and the streetlights were mostly smashed.

He reached his building...a grey, crumbling box that looked like it was held together by hope and dirt. He climbed the stairs, the wood was groaning under his feet. When he reached the fourth floor, he pulled out his key and opened the door to his studio.

The room was tiny. Two hundred square feet of absolute misery. The air was cold because the heater had died in 2022 and the landlord refused to fix it. A single mattress lay on the floor in the corner, covered by a thin, grey blanket. On the small wooden table sat a half-eaten cup of instant noodles that had gone cold hours ago.

Leo sat down on the only chair he owned. It creaked, nearly giving way under him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the solid black card his grandfather had given him.

He placed it on the scarred table. It looked ridiculous there. A card that could buy a small country sitting next to a 50-cent cup of noodles.

He looked at his hands. They were still red from the scrubbing, his knuckles raw from the chemicals. He could leave right now. He could call his grandfather, move into a penthouse, and never see Northwood University again. He could have the finest steak in the city delivered by a private chef.

But he didn't move.

His grandfather’s final test was clear: Live as the invisible man until you understand what it means to be the King.

Leo stood up and walked to the small stove. He lit the burner with a shaky click-click-click of a lighter and boiled a small pot of water. He had exactly one pack of ramen left. He poured the water into the cup and waited.

“One more week,” he whispered to the empty, cold room. “I can do one more week.”

He picked up a plastic fork and started to eat. It tasted like salt and chemicals, but it was the taste of his life for the last 1,095 days. He forced himself to finish every bite, with his eyes already locked on the black card. He was the wealthiest man in the city, sitting in a room that smelled like damp carpet and poverty.

Suddenly, a loud, violent bang shook the door.

Leo jumped, the plastic fork falling from his hand. The door rattled on its hinges as if someone was trying to kick it down.

“Leo! Open this damn door right now!”

It was Mr. Robert, the landlord. The man was a giant, sweaty bully who made a living off overcharging the poorest people in the city.

Leo stood up and opened the door. Mr. Robert was standing there, his face red with rage, holding a crowbar in one hand. Two of his hired thugs stood behind him, looking bored.

“Where’s my money, you little rat?” Robert shouted, spitting as he spoke. “You’re two days late on the rent. I don't run a charity ward here.”

“I’ll have it by Friday, Mr. Robert,” Leo said, his voice was calm. He didn't realize he was standing taller than usual. He didn't look like the scared kid Robert usually pushed around. “I had some trouble at work.”

“Trouble at work? You’re a janitor! How much trouble can you have with a mop?” Robert laughed, and his thugs joined in. “I’m done waiting. I’ve got a new tenant who’s willing to pay double. You’re out. Now.”

“You can’t just kick me out,” Leo said, his eyes narrowing. “The law says...”

“The law?” Robert stepped into the tiny room, shoving Leo back against the table. The landlord looked around the room and sneered. “This place is a dump because you’re a loser. Boys, start clearing this trash out.”

The two thugs moved past Robert. One of them grabbed Leo’s textbooks and tossed them out the open door, watching them tumble down the stairs. The other went for the mattress.

“Stop!” Leo shouted.

Robert laughed and grabbed Leo by the collar of his wet shirt. “What are you going to do, scholarship boy? You going to cry? You’ve got nothing. No family, no money, no future. You’re just a placeholder for the next piece of trash.”

Robert’s eyes suddenly landed on the table. He saw the black card sitting next to the empty noodle cup. He frowned, letting go of Leo’s shirt to pick it up.

“What’s this? A toy?” Robert turned the card over in his thick fingers. “Looks fancy. You steal this from one of those rich kids at the school? Maybe I can sell it and get my rent money.”

“Put that down,” Leo said. His voice was no longer calm. It was dangerous. A coldness was spreading through his veins that had nothing to do with the broken heater.

“Or what?” Robert sneered, stuffing the card into his pocket. “You going to call the cops? Go ahead. They’re on my payroll. Now get out of here before I let my boys use your face as a punching bag.”

One of the thugs grabbed Leo’s arm, ready to drag him out.

Leo looked at the thug, then at Robert. He felt the weight of the last three years suddenly lift. He didn't need to wait a week. He didn't need to be the ghost anymore.

“Mr. Robert,” Leo said, a small, dark smile touching his lips. “You just made the most expensive mistake of your life.”

Robert laughed and raised the crowbar. “Yeah? And what are you going to do about it, janitor?”

Leo reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small, encrypted burner phone his grandfather had tucked into his hand before he left the car. He hit the only button on the screen.

“I want to buy the building,” Leo said into the phone, his eyes locked on Robert. “No. Buy the whole block. And tell the police I have a thief in my room.”

Robert froze, the crowbar still in the air. He looked at the phone, then back at Leo’s cold, confident eyes. For the first time in his life, the landlord felt a shiver of real fear.

“Who the hell are you?” Robert whispered.