"Let me be honest," Raymond said, standing. "If you choose the job, you'll be paid well. No questions asked. But you'll be blind. Kept comfortable… and controlled. You'll survive, but that is all."
He looked outside the window, city lights so static.
"Choose the mentorship, and everything changes. You'll see things you can't unsee. Hear truths that will burn through every lie you've ever believed. You'll make decisions that won't let you sleep. And if you slip… if you draw too much attention… the system eats its own. Fast."
He turned back. "There's no third option. No return to normal."
Raymond's question lingered like smoke in the room.
"So, what'll it be Alex? Comfort? Or clarity?"
"..."
Alex didn't answer immediately. He leaned back in the soft leather chair, his eyes drifting to the painting on the wall. His chest tightened.
He wanted to say yes. The words were right there. But something in him, maybe fear, maybe instinct, held them back.
"I need to think," Alex said finally.
Raymond didn't flinch. He nodded slowly as if expecting that answer all along. "Good. That means you're not stupid."
Alex raised an eyebrow.
"Most people jump at the first opportunity with a big paycheck or a mysterious edge. They never stop to ask why they're being chosen," Raymond said, moving back to the desk slowly. "Go. Take the evening. But understand something…"
He leaned forward slightly.
"Once you open a door like this, you don't just walk back out. You'll see things. Know things. And knowing changes people."
Alex nodded, gripping the armrest tightly. "So be it. I'll think."
Raymond handed him another card, this one was white, embossed with a different address and a single word in small gold letters: GATEHOUSE.
"Come here," Raymond said. "If you choose clarity."
"..."
Outside, the city felt louder than usual. The honks, the shouts, and the exhaust smoke clawed at his thoughts. Alex moved on autopilot, drifting through the crowd like a man halfway out of his body.
By the time he reached the small apartment he had shared with Emma, it was already evening; the sun was slowly disappearing.
He had called Sarah over before reaching home, and surprisingly, she was at the table, flipping through a medical textbook, hair tied in a loose bun, glasses low on her nose. Emma sat beside her, earbuds in, sketching on her tablet.
They both looked up when he entered.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Sarah said immediately.
Alex exhaled, tossed his keys on the counter, and dropped onto the couch like a collapsed tent. "Close. Maybe worse. So you're here already?"
Emma paused her music, curious. "What happened?"
He stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before answering. "I met a man. He said he knew Dad."
That got their attention.
Sarah closed her book. "What?"
"He gave me a job offer… sort of."
Emma blinked. "Sort of?"
Alex sat up, rubbing his face. "It's hard to explain. He didn't say what the job was exactly. He said it wasn't about a salary, it was about understanding how money really works. Like… the way the system is wired. Influence. Power. Control….. Blah. Blah. Blah!"
Emma leaned in with narrow eyes. "That sounds… sketchy as hell."
"I thought so too." He paused. "But he wasn't some street guy. His office was insane. People treated him like a ghost CEO or something. And… he knew things about Dad. Things I've never heard before."
Sarah stood and paced a little, processing. "What do you think?"
"I don't know. Part of me wants to just take a normal job and keep my head down. But something about what he said felt… real. Like he pulled back the curtain just a little. Just enough."
"Sounds like you want to say yes," Sarah said softly.
"I don't know what I want yet," Alex said. "That's the problem."
Emma crossed her arms. "If you do go back to him, just… don't go alone. Keep your guard up. There are people who use grief to manipulate. Especially when they know your weak points. Just know that whatever decision you make, I'm with you, always."
"Same here," Sarah said with a smile.
Alex nodded, appreciating the caution and concern.
That night, he barely slept.
Raymond's voice played in his mind like a whisper just out of reach. "Every crisis, every boom, every government bailout, it all circles back to the same hands."
By morning, he already knew what he would do.
***
The Gatehouse wasn't listed on Google Maps.
It was behind a black gate on a street with no name sign, surrounded by tall trees. The building was made of glass and steel, looking too modern for the quiet area. There was no sign, just a feeling that not everyone was welcome.
Alex hesitated at the entrance.
Then he pushed the gate open and stepped in.
Inside, a young man in a grey suit greeted him.
"Mr. Stone?"
Alex nodded.
"Follow me."
No ID. No check-in. Just quiet efficiency.
They rode the elevator up several floors before stepping into a space that looked more like a private club than an office. Polished wood, velvet chairs, low lighting, and a scent of leather and faint cologne.
Raymond was already waiting in a room beyond a heavy double door, and seated behind a chessboard.
"Welcome back," he said without looking up.
"I'm in," Alex said simply. "Let's try clarity."
Raymond chuckled and moved a knight piece. "Good."
He gestured to the chair across from him.
"Then let's begin."
He placed a small envelope on the table.
"Your first test."
Alex stared at the envelope on the table. Plain. White. Unmarked, except for one thing: his name, handwritten in blue ink.
He picked it up and looked at Raymond. "What is it?"
Raymond sipped something dark from a small glass. "Your test."
Alex turned the envelope over in his hands, but it was empty.
No files.
No names.
No mission.
Just his name written in that same fluid blue ink.
He looked up. "I thought you said this was a test."
Raymond gave a small smile, leaned back, and crossed his legs. "It is. Just not the kind you expected."
Alex waited.
Raymond poured them both another glass of water. "Tell me something, Alex. What is money?"
Alex blinked. "It's… well, it's value. What people use to buy things. A medium of exchange."
"Hmm." Raymond nodded. "That's the textbook answer. And the problem with it is that it explains what money does, but not what it is."
Alex frowned. "Is there a difference?"
"A huge one." Raymond stood and walked over to a shelf lined with books, old coins, strange ornaments. He picked up a dusty carved item, cowries strung together with faded leather. "Once upon a time, this was money. People died for it. Traded daughters for it. Built empires with it."
He tossed the cowries to Alex, who caught them awkwardly.
"Your first lesson," Raymond said, "isn't about hacking or breaking systems. It's about understanding the system you're already in. Money isn't paper. It's not numbers in your bank. It's belief."
Alex looked down at the cowries, still confused. "So what, you're going to teach me economics?"
Raymond chuckled. "Not economics boy. Survival. Freedom."
"You asked what your first test is? It's this: listen. Don't argue, don't question everything to death. Just listen. And when the stories are over, then choose who you want to become."
Alex nodded slowly. "Okay, sorry. I'll listen."
Then, here it is. "Lesson One. Trade by Barter. That's where it all started."
"..."
"..."
"..."