"I'm afraid this case is already closed, Mr. Cæ."
Cæ narrowed his eyes. "What…?"
"It's been six months since your accident," the police superintendent said firmly. "We've already investigated the matter and found no crime was committed."
Cæ's face twisted in fury. "No crime? That truck ran a red light! He slammed into us and killed someone!"
"According to our records," the superintendent replied coldly, "you're the one who ran the red light. Multiple witnesses said you drove recklessly into oncoming traffic."
Cæ's fists clenched.
That was a lie.
He remembered the crash perfectly—painful and vivid. Ever since he developed Acquired Savant Syndrome, his memory had become razor sharp. He could recall the accident in perfect detail.
"You're wrong." His voice was low and dangerous. "He ran the light. Not me. You need to charge him with manslaughter."
"That's not going to happen," the officer growled. "If anything, you should be charged—for reckless driving and for killing that young woman."
"If you don't reopen the case and bring justice for Lilia," Cæ snapped, his tone sharp, "then I'll have to take legal actio—"
Suddenly, the officer's arm shot forward, glowing with magic. He grabbed Cæ by the collar and lifted him off the ground.
"Listen, you little punk," he growled. "You have the nerve to come in here and threaten me? After I tried to break the truth to you nicely? I ought to kill you."
"You're not a cop…" Cæ muttered, eyes blazing. "You're just a corrupt coward…"
The officer's face twisted with anger. He dragged Cæ out of the office like a ragdoll and hurled him out the station door.
"Don't come back," he spat. "If I see your face again, I'll beat the crap out of you."
Cæ groaned as he stood up from the pavement. People had seen what happened. They watched. And did nothing.
Not one person stepped in.
They looked away. Pretended they didn't see. No one wanted to get involved with the police.
Rage burned in Cæ's eyes. It wasn't the first time the world had treated him like this. He clenched his fists, trembling.
He hated everything.
He always had.
But this time was different. This time, the anger in his heart was darker. Deeper. Hotter.
He wanted to destroy the world that kept destroying him.
His mother died when he was born. His father vanished soon after. He grew up in a broken foster care system. He ran away more times than he could count. He had no money. No mana. He was born in the slums and had to fight tooth and nail just to survive.
He had climbed out of that pit. Worked harder than anyone. Found love.
Then the world ripped it all away.
The crash took everything. His savings. His job. His future. Lilia.
Now he was buried in debt.
"Damn it…" he whispered, shaking with rage. "Damn it all…"
If only he had the power to change it.
To change everything.
To burn it all down and build something better.
And then, a thought hit him like lightning.
"If only I had the power?"
What if he could?
He remembered something—power wasn't just strength. It was wealth. It was magic. And he could gain both.
"I just need to acquire it," he muttered.
The doctors never figured out what kind of savant he had become. But now he understood.
"Cultivating power. Wealth. Magic."
His mind exploded with ideas. It was like his brain had been reborn—new possibilities, new paths, all opening at once.
He could see it now. Clear as day.
"I'll gain the power to tear this world down and build a new one."
Anyone who heard him might've thought he was crazy.
But he was deadly serious.
He knew how impossible it sounded. He didn't care.
"It's not impossible," he whispered.
In a world where power ruled everything, the only way to change it was to become the most powerful. The strongest. The richest.
That's when he made a promise—lying on the street outside a corrupt police station.
"I will become the most powerful man in the world."
His voice was calm. His eyes burned with purpose.
"I will become the richest man in the world."
His goal was set. His path was clear.
"I'll get strong and rich enough to destroy this broken world and build a new one in its place."
It sounded insane. And maybe it was. But he didn't care.
Most people in his situation just gave up. They got crushed by the system and accepted it.
Not him.
He would break it.
Not because he believed in some dream. But because he was angry. Because he had nothing left to lose.
And because now… now he knew how.
"How do I gain that kind of power?" he asked himself. "How do I earn that kind of money?"
The answer was obvious.
Not with a salary. Not as some low-level manager.
No one ever became truly rich working a 9-to-5.
True wealth came from capital—from owning things.
Equity. Property. Resources. Magic-based investments. Patents. Credit. Mana-based tech.
"Labor income isn't the answer," he said. "Capital income is."
It wouldn't be easy.
But he would do whatever it took.
He had already made the decision.
No matter how long it took…
No matter what he had to do…
He was going to change the world.