The New Tycoon Conquers Every Business

Chapter 3: People will doubt, that's what they do

The thousand dollars hit Marcus's account at exactly 6:47 AM. He was awake to see it, having barely slept. The notification lit up his phone screen like a small miracle:

>>Deposit received: $1,000.00 from LIMITLESS SYSTEM.<<

His current balance: $1,023.47.

More money than he'd seen in one place since... ever..

The system interface materialized, its blue glow now familiar:

[TIER 1 ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED]

[CURRENT REBATE RATE: 200%]

[DAILY SPENDING LIMIT: $1,000]

[ADVANCEMENT TO TIER 2: SPEND $100,000 TOTAL]

[CURRENT PROGRESS: $500 / $100,000]

[RECOMMENDATION: INVEST IN APPEARANCE]

[PERCEPTION SHAPES REALITY, YOU SHALL BE ADDRESSED DUE TO THE WAY YOU DRESS]

Marcus read the last line three times. Invest in appearance. He looked down at his stained delivery uniform, his worn-out sneakers with holes in the soles, his cracked phone screen. When was the last time he'd bought new clothes? Two years? Three?

His father shuffled out of the bedroom, dressed for his morning shift at the warehouse. Raymond Sylvester was forty-seven but looked sixty, his back permanently bent from decades of manual labor.

"You're up early," his father said, heading for the coffee maker that only worked if you hit it twice on the side.

"Couldn't sleep."

Raymond poured coffee into a thermos. "Your mother told me about the medication. Said you got a bonus."

"Yeah."

His father turned, his eyes, the same dark brown as Marcus's, searching his son's face. "Son, you didn't do anything stupid to get that money, did you?"

The question stung, even though Marcus understood it. When you're poor, sudden money always comes with questions. "No, Dad. I promise. Just... good fortune. Finally."

Raymond nodded slowly. "Good fortune doesn't come free. You remember that." He grabbed his coat. "I'll be back around four. Don't forget to check on your mother's breathing. If it gets worse—"

"I know. Call 911 first, Dr. Chen second."

After his father left, Marcus opened his banking app and stared at the four-digit balance. The system's words echoed: Perception shapes reality.

If he showed up to return his delivery uniform looking the same as always, nothing would change. People would see what they'd always seen: broke Marcus, desperate Marcus, going-nowhere Marcus.

Maybe it was time they saw someone different.

---

The Galleria Mall opened at 10 AM. Marcus arrived at 9:55, positioning himself outside the Nordstrom entrance. He'd Googled "how to dress like you have money" on his cracked phone during the bus ride, scrolling through articles about "investment pieces" and "timeless style."

It all seemed like a foreign language.

The doors unlocked. Marcus walked through the gleaming interior, past displays of clothes that cost more than his monthly food budget. A sales associate—mid-thirties, immaculate in a tailored suit—approached with a professional smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Can I help you find something?" The tone was polite but dismissive. His gaze had already catalogued Marcus's appearance and found him wanting.

"I need a suit," Marcus said. "Something good."

"Of course. Our clearance section is on the third floor—"

"Not clearance. Something good."

The associate's smile thinned. "Sir, our suits start at $800. Perhaps you'd be more comfortable at—"

"I have money." Marcus pulled out his phone, showing his bank balance. It was crude, probably stupid, but he was tired of being dismissed before he even spoke.

The associate's demeanor shifted instantly. "I see. Well then, let's find you something perfect. I'm James, by the way."

The next hour was a whirlwind. James pulled suits in charcoal and navy, measured Marcus's shoulders and inseam, explained the difference between half-canvas and full-canvas construction with the passion of someone discussing fine art.

Marcus stood in front of a three-way mirror wearing a navy suit that fit him like it had been crafted for his body specifically. The price tag read $1,200.

"We'll need to tailor the sleeves and hem the pants," James said, circling him critically. "And you'll need shoes. Shirts. A belt. May I suggest..."

"Do it," Marcus said. "All of it."

James's eyes gleamed. "Excellent choice, sir."

By the time Marcus left Nordstrom, he'd spent $2,347. The suit, alterations, two dress shirts, leather shoes that cost more than his bike, a belt, and a new leather wallet because James had insisted his duct-taped one "undermined the ensemble."

The system had gone quiet after he exceeded the daily limit, but Marcus checked his account anyway: $-1,323.53.

Negative. Overdrawn.

His stomach dropped. He'd been so caught up in the moment, in feeling like someone who mattered, that he'd forgotten basic math. The rebate wouldn't come until tomorrow, and he'd just spent money he didn't actually have yet.

The overdraft fees would be crushing.

Marcus sat on a bench outside the mall, his shopping bags beside him, and pressed his palms against his eyes. Stupid. So incredibly stupid. One day with money and he'd already screwed it up.

His phone buzzed.

>>Deposit received: $4,694.00 from LIMITLESS SYSTEM.<<

Marcus stared at the screen. Refreshed it. The money remained.

>>New balance: $3,370.47.<<

The system interface bloomed to life:

[PURCHASE REGISTERED: $2,347.00]

[REBATE APPROVED: $4,694.00]

[NOTE: BOLD SPENDING REWARDED]

[DAILY LIMITS ARE GUIDELINES, NOT RESTRICTIONS]

[SYSTEM ADVANCEMENT PROGRESS: $2,847 / $100,000]

Marcus laughed. Actually laughed, loud enough that passing shoppers gave him concerned looks. He'd spent money he didn't have and been rewarded for it. The system wasn't just giving him money, it was teaching him to think differently.

Spend boldly. Earn exponentially.

---

Marcus wore his new suit to return his delivery uniform. The manager at Golden Dragon Chinese Restaurant. Mr. Chen( no relation to Vanessa) looked up from his desk and did a double-take.

"Marcus? That you?"

"Yeah, Mr. Chen. I'm returning my uniform. I quit."

"Quit? But you just asked for extra shifts last week."

"Things changed."

Mr. Chen stood, circling Marcus with unconcealed suspicion. "That's a nice suit. Expensive. Where'd you get money for that?"

"I got a better opportunity."

"What kind of opportunity?"

Marcus met his former boss's eyes. "The kind that pays me what I'm worth."

He left the uniform on the desk and walked out, feeling ten feet tall.

The system had one more surprise waiting when he got home:

[ACHIEVEMENT: FIRST IMPRESSION]

[REWARD: SKILL UNLOCK—BASIC BUSINESS ACUMEN]

[NEW KNOWLEDGE INTEGRATING.....]

Information flooded Marcus's mind. Not memories, but understanding. Concepts about profit margins, market analysis, investment strategies. It was like downloading years of business education in thirty seconds.

When the rush faded, Marcus understood something fundamental: the system wasn't just giving him money. It was building him into someone who could handle it.

His phone rang. Unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Marcus? It's Keisha." Keisha Morrison. They'd grown up three buildings apart, stayed friends through everything. She was in nursing school now, working part-time at the community clinic.

"Hey, Keish. What's up?".

"I heard you quit Golden Dragon. You okay? Do you need—"

"I'm fine. Better than fine, actually."

"Really?" She sounded skeptical. "Because last time we talked, you were working three jobs and barely sleeping.".

"That was last week. Things are different now."

"Different how?"

Marcus looked at his reflection in the window, a stranger in an expensive suit with possibility in his eyes. "I'll explain when I see you. You free for coffee tomorrow?"

"Coffee? Marcus, when's the last time you spent money on anything except bills?"

"Tomorrow. 10 AM. That new place on Fifth Street."

"The expensive one?"

"My treat."

Silence. Then: "Who are you and what did you do with my best friend?"

Marcus smiled. "Just a guy who's done being broke."

After they hung up, the system displayed one final message:

[MISSION ALERT]

[YOUR OLD LIFE WON'T BELIEVE YOUR NEW ONE]

[SHOW THEM THEY'RE WRONG]

[REWARD: ---]

Marcus looked around the cramped apartment, water-stained ceiling, second-hand furniture, walls thin enough to hear neighbors arguing. This place had been his prison for twenty-two years.

It was time to break out.

And make damn sure everyone who'd ever doubted him was watching when he did.