The Ring Of The Billionaire System

"Your heart might only have six months left, Alsean."

I stared at the doctor with a look of quiet pity, then shifted my gaze down to the test results in my hand. The letters were blurry, not because the print was small, but because my eyes were beginning to well with tears.

"Six months, Doctor?"

"Yes. Your heart condition is severely advanced. Without surgery, that is the current estimate."

"How much would the surgery cost, Doctor?"

"Hundreds of thousands of dollars. That does not include post-operative care."

I was beyond crying. "I do odd jobs, Doctor. I would have to borrow money just to scrape together a few hundred dollars."

"These are hospital regulations, and I cannot grant financial exemptions myself." The doctor pushed a small slip of paper toward me. "Please settle today's consultation f*e at the administration desk."

With a heavy sigh, I excused myself and walked toward the front desk. "Can I pay in installments, Ma'am? I only have ten dollars on me."

"Ten dollars?" The receptionist raised her voice, loud enough for other patients in the lobby to turn and stare. "Do you think this hospital is a coffee shop?"

"I really only have this, Ma'am. I'll find the rest, I promise."

"Not possible. You are not allowed to leave until the bill is settled in full."

I stood frozen. The receptionist gripped the sleeve of my jacket tightly, as if I were a fugitive trying to escape rather than a patient who had just been given six months to live.

With trembling hands, I reached for my phone, the only valuable possession I had left, and dialed Laura's number.

"Laura, please help me," I almost whispered as soon as the line connected, while the staff member continued to glare at me from behind the desk. "I'm being held at the hospital because I can't pay the bill. Could you lend me some money?"

"What? Are you seriously calling me just to beg for money?" Laura's shrill voice came through the receiver, loud enough to be heard by the woman beside me.

"Laura, please, I have no one else to turn to."

"Then don't get sick if you don't have money, Alsean! Do you know how embarrassing this is? We're breaking up right now!"

"Breaking up?"

"Yes, we're through." Laura laughed coldly. "Someone like you deserves to be alone. Never call me again."

Click... click... click...

The call disconnected. The screen displayed the call duration: twenty-three seconds. Enough time to destroy whatever remained of my hope that day.

"Finished with your phone drama?" the receptionist sneered. "Are you going to pay or not?"

"Ma'am, I truly have no more money."

"If you don't have money, your phone stays here as collateral."

"But Ma'am, that's the only thing I own..."

"Then go find the money!" She snatched the phone from my hands without waiting for permission, throwing it into the desk drawer with a careless gesture, as if it were worth no more than scrap paper. "Please leave. Next time you seek medical treatment, make sure you have the money first."

I walked out of the hospital without a phone, without a girlfriend, and without money, carrying only a slip of paper with a death sentence and wounds invisible to the world. Yet life forced Alsean Zeffran to remain strong. I had to keep working, even as my body felt as frail as an old man's.

"Alsean! Showing up at this hour?!" the warehouse loading dock supervisor barked the moment I arrived at the yard. His voice boomed in front of the other workers. "Sickly like this and you still force yourself to do manual labor! You're nothing but a nuisance!"

"I'm sorry, Sir. I just came from the hospital..."

"Always an excuse! Don't bother working today. You won't get paid, consider it an unexcused absence!"

A few of the other workers looked at me with pity, which felt far more painful than any taunt.

"Sir, I need this money for my medical treatment."

"Find another job that doesn't require a healthy body. That is your problem, not mine!"

I turned around. My hands clenched tightly inside my pants pockets, my teeth grinding against a rage that had nowhere to go. My worn-out shoes swallowed dirty gutter water with every step into the puddles, and the late afternoon New York sky chose that exact moment to pour down heavy rain without warning.

"Why does my life keep turning out like this..." I muttered under the awning of a closed shop, my voice nearly drowned out by the roar of the rain. "Sick, poor, abandoned, humiliated. What more do you want from me?"

Nothing answered except the distant rumble of thunder. I had not yet reached my apartment alley when I heard a harsh cough coming from a small ditch by the side of the road. An old man lay there, his body frail, his clothes soaked through, his hands trembling as he tried to push himself up.

"Sir, what's wrong?" I ran over, briefly forgetting my own misery.

"My chest... it's tight..." the old man gasped.

"Where do you live, Sir? I'll take you home."

"Don't trouble yourself, son," the old man weakly declined.

"You can't be left here in this heavy rain!"

The old man kept shaking his head every time I asked for his address. So, I supported his weight and helped him toward my own place. "Rest at my apartment first, Sir. It isn't much, but at least it will keep you out of the rain."

That night, the old man slept in my only bed, while I sat on the floor, resting my back against the wall in my soaking wet clothes.

"Why would you help a stranger like me when you look like you're struggling yourself?"

I let out a bitter, quiet laugh. "Struggling isn't an excuse not to help someone if we still can, Sir."

"You're right. What happened to you today, son? Your clothes are soaked, and you look as though you've been crying."

"I was fired from my job, dumped by my girlfriend, and diagnosed with a terminal illness. Today wins first place for the worst day of my life." I smiled, even as my eyes grew watery again. "Oh well, tomorrow goes on."

The old man looked at me for a long time, as if weighing something far greater than simple gratitude.

"What is your name?"

"Alsean Zeffran. Just call me Alsean, Sir."

"Alsean Zeffran..." the old man repeated my name softly, as though memorizing it forever.

The old man stayed at my place for three days. For those three days, I willingly skipped lunch and borrowed money from neighbors to buy medicine for him, never asking about his real family.

On the third night, the old man called me over in a very weak voice.

"Alsean, come here for a moment."

"What is it, Sir? Is the pain acting up again?"

The old man did not answer. His trembling hand reached out and took mine, holding it tightly, then placed a dull black ring into my palm. "This is my last request," he said.

"A last request? Sir, I only helped you, I don't need any reward."

"It's not a reward," the old man's voice grew weaker. "It's a responsibility. Take good care of this ring. Never take it off once you put it on."

"What are you talking about, Sir? I don't understand..."

"You are a good person, Alsean," the old man interrupted, his eyes beginning to dim. "The world has been too cruel to you. Now it's your turn to be repaid."

The old man's grip slowly loosened. His breathing slowed until it stopped completely.

"Sir? Sir!"

I shook the old man's body in a panic, feeling for a pulse in his neck. There was none.

"Sir, don't go... You were just starting to feel better yesterday, why now..." My voice broke, unable to finish the sentence.

I stared down at the black ring in my hand, the last object left behind by a man I had known for only three days, yet somehow it felt heavier than the entire burden of my life up to this point. I handled the old man's burial alone, borrowing money once more for the funeral and attempting to find his family. However, no one came forward to claim him, as if the old man had come specifically to meet me and then passed away once his task was finished.

"Why does everyone who is kind to me end up leaving..." I muttered, gazing at the mound of wet dirt in the modest cemetery. "My parents, and now you, Sir..."

Returning to my room, I stared at the black ring lying on the table. The object reflected the dim lamplight in a strange way, as if something were alive inside it. I picked it up, rolling the band between my fingers, staring at it with eyes swollen from crying all day.

"A last request..." I whispered softly. "What is this, really? How did a plain ring like this become a last request?"

Curiosity triumphed over my fear. I slipped the ring onto my ring finger.

Cold. As cold as ice, spreading rapidly from my finger throughout my entire arm.

"Wait—"

Before I could pull it off, a voice echoed, not from the room, but resounding directly inside my head.

"Welcome, Heir to the Ring of Prosperity."

I jolted so hard I fell from my chair, my eyes widening as I stared at the black ring, which now glowed with a faint purple light on my finger.

"Who's there?! Who's speaking?!"