Brazil's heat clung to the skin like ambition clung to Kojiro Touya's bones.
The air was rich with the scent of grilled meat, beer, and the collective heartbeat of millions of fans. The World Cup had turned Rio into a symphony of passion. Music boomed through every alley, crowds surged like rivers, and the world watched in awe.
But Kojiro Touya wasn't here for football.
He walked alone through the noise, unnoticed by most. No entourage. No cameras. No team.
And yet, in the shadows of Maracanã Stadium, a quiet storm gathered around him.
Because two days ago, he had dropped a bomb.
The Crown Phone.
Sleek. Powerful. A technological marvel. An AI called Oracle, a 30x x-ray scope, and a custom operating system — Royal OS — all packed into a golden device that had no right existing without a billion-dollar company behind it.
And yet it came from him.
One man.
The media didn't know what to call him.
Some thought it was fake.
Others said it was a scam.
But Touya knew better.
This was the final step of Phase One — put himself on the global map.
And the world had no choice but to notice.
Touya lived in a modest Airbnb apartment far from the city center.
No five-star hotel. No private security.
He cooked his own meals. Took the subway when he could. Spoke with street vendors, tipped artists, listened to old men ramble about politics in bars, and learned the rhythm of Rio like a student trying to master a foreign drumbeat.
But each night, he returned to his quiet room, stared at his screen, and watched the numbers rise.
Krown's official website crashed twice due to traffic.
Pre-orders shot past 60,000 in 48 hours.
Tech bloggers went crazy. Engineers wanted interviews. Governments requested specs.
Touya never responded.
He watched.
Measured.
Planned.
Every interview request? Denied. Every PR push? Ignored.
He didn't want to be chased.
He wanted to make them come to him.
Each morning, he walked down to the beach, sat in the sand with a notebook, and scribbled thoughts.
Business plans. Algorithms. Training routines. Words Rin once said.
He thought of Max and Jeff — back home, finishing school.
They had helped lay the bricks.
But now he was building the castle alone.
He met no allies here. No fake friends. Only strangers with wisdom and stories.
One day, a taxi driver gave him an unexpected piece of advice:
"A king who walks alone is either mad or unshakable. The world watches to see which one he becomes."
Touya tipped him double.
And later that night, wrote a single line in his journal:
"I am both."
Despite no marketing team, Krown's social media exploded.
Clips of the Crown Phone spread like wildfire — the AI's voice, Oracle, predicting routes and detecting injuries. The camera peering through walls and fog. The OS operating faster than Android or iOS.
Still, no public appearance.
Touya had vanished after the drop.
Some called it "genius marketing."
Others called it "arrogance."
But the mystery worked.
Tech firms offered to buy him out.
Startups offered to partner.
He said nothing.
Because Touya didn't come to Brazil for partnerships.
He came for something bigger.
And it was almost time.
One week before the World Cup Finale, an exclusive gala was held for world leaders, corporate giants, and elite sponsors.
Touya didn't receive an invite.
So he found a way in.
He didn't sneak through shadows — he walked through the front, suited in black, carrying nothing but confidence and silence. And no one stopped him.
Because power, when worn right, looks like it belongs.
The ballroom sparkled gold. Lights danced across crystal glasses. Global CEOs and political titans circled like sharks in silk.
Touya moved quietly.
Watched.
Measured.
And then—he saw him.
Donald Trump.
President of the United States.
Talking with ambassadors. Surrounded by security. Laughing too loud.
Touya's heart didn't race.
His hands didn't sweat.
He just walked.
He passed startled faces, whispered questions, and eyes that didn't recognize him yet.
Stopped three feet from Trump.
The guards moved, but the President noticed him.
He raised a hand, halting them.
Touya stepped forward. Calm. Cold. Certain.
He looked him dead in the eye.
"Mr. President… you wanna make a deal?"
Trump blinked.
"Do I know you?"
"You will."
Touya offered his hand.
Trump studied him, then smiled.
"Let's talk."
They disappeared into a private side room
No one followed.
And no one heard what was said inside.
Thirty-seven minutes passed.
Touya walked out alone.
No expression. No press. No statement.
But something had shifted.
He returned to his quiet apartment that night, sat on the rooftop, and watched the distant stadium glow.
He took out Rin's bracelet. Tied it tighter.
Then whispered to the wind
"Just one more thing to do"
And below, the world still danced, oblivious to the fact that history had just changed.
The World Cup Final had reached its climax.
A tie game. Tension thick enough to cut with a blade. Fans screamed themselves hoarse, fists raised, faces painted in pride and fear. Across continents, eyes were glued to screens. Entire nations held their breath.
And then—
The referee paused the match.
A scheduled technical break. 3 minutes.
Some booed. Some relaxed. But everyone stayed locked in.
Then, the screens changed.
The stadium lights dimmed.
The ads flickered out.
And a new symbol took their place:
A golden crown. Jagged. Sleek. Regal.
Krown.
At first, silence.
Then a voice.
Calm.
Cold.
Commanding.
Touya's voice.
> "You don't know me yet. But you will."
The world froze.
In pubs, homes, stadiums, airports—everyone watched.
> "I've walked this world like a ghost, a shadow moving past the powerful. I've watched nations worship names that have long since fallen. I've seen the weak cry out with no one to answer."
A dark, slow melody played in the background. The screen shifted — golden city skylines, cracked earth, burning ambition.
> "I will not beg. I will not borrow.
I will take."
The music rose.
> "I'm not a king by blood.
I am a king by choice."
Flashes of the Crown Phone. Oracle's eye. The Royal OS icon booting up.
> "And with every step I take, every piece I move, every empire I build…"
Silence.
Then:
> "I will wreck this world."
The screen turned completely black.
> "I am the one who sits on the throne.
I am the king. Kojiro Touya.
And I am the one who wears… the crown."
KROWN.
The logo burst into flames and vanished.
The world erupted.
Social media crashed in several countries. News channels scrambled. Players looked at each other in confusion.
But Touya?
He was already gone.
Somewhere above the noise, in a private suite, he watched the stadium calmly, the screen's glow reflected in his eyes.
And as the game resumed,
a brief flashback flickered in his mind.
—
"Are you serious?" Trump's voice echoed in a marble room.
"I don't waste time on jokes," Touya replied.
"Why now?"
"Because the world only listens when it's screaming."
A pause.
"You're asking for something… risky."
Touya's face stayed unreadable. "Risk builds kings."
"What's your endgame?"
Touya leaned forward.
"you will find out in due time."
Darkness.
Back to the present.
Touya rose from his seat, straightened his jacket.
The world was watching now.
Exactly as he planned.
The broadcast ended, but the tremors had just begun.
At Touya's college, the friends who had helped him build Krown sat in stunned silence in their dorm common room. They had known the plan… but not the execution. Not this scale.
One of them dropped his drink.
"Did he just—?"
"He actually did it," another whispered.
They looked at each other, a mix of awe, pride… and fear.
—
In a small house in Japan, Touya's father sat on the floor, arms crossed, blinking at the TV.
His wife stared, hand over her mouth.
Their youngest son clapped, not fully understanding.
The eldest daughter, a corporate analyst, leaned in, whispering:
"Is this… our Touya?"
It wasn't a question. It was realization.
—
World leaders demanded briefings.
CIA flagged Krown as a technological anomaly.
Interpol put Touya on a watchlist — but others called to protect him.
Internet bloggers shouted conspiracy theories.
Some said he was a hacker.
Others called him a revolution.
Memes were born. Debates raged.
But amidst it all…
Touya was silent.
The broadcast rippled across the globe like a thrown stone into still water.
Every news channel scrambled to decode the meaning behind the message. Headlines screamed:
"WHO IS THE KING?"
"KROWN PHONE CREATOR STUNS WORLD"
"TECH PRODIGY OR GLOBAL THREAT?"
But beneath the political frenzy, beneath the global fixation—
Three hearts beat heavier than most.
Rin, sitting alone in her quiet apartment, had been sipping tea.
The screen froze with Touya's final words echoing in the room.
> "I am the king… and I am the one who wears the crown."
Her hand trembled, the cup slipping from her fingers and shattering.
She didn't flinch.
She simply whispered, "…You actually did it."
But her voice wasn't proud.
It was afraid.
Not for Touya's success — but for what he'd sacrificed.
And what he might become.
Max had been watching in a busy arcade. When the ad played, everything stopped.
He stared at the screen, wide-eyed, his usual playful grin gone.
When the broadcast ended, someone beside him cheered.
Max didn't.
He turned, walked away, and muttered, "You didn't even say goodbye…"
Jeff had known something was coming. He could feel it.
But this?
This was a declaration of war against the ordinary.
He sat in a dark room, arms crossed, jaw tight.
When it ended, he said only one word:
"Why?"
And even he didn't know if he meant "why now"... or "why without us."
The world moved into chaos.
But they say still not as teammates.
As friends left behind.
Touya left the presidential suite, face unreadable.
The stadium behind him roared with final whistles and cheers, but his path was silent.
The black car waited.
He stepped in, slow, deliberate.
He pulled out the iPhone — the one with old photos, group messages, laughter, and late-night calls.
First call: the pillars.
"Handle Krown," he said. "It's yours until I return."
Second call: his sister- Rin.
"See ya," he said softly, then ended it.
His thumb hovered over Max's name.
Then over Jeff's.
He said nothing.
And pressed power.
The phone shut down.
He placed it beside him, like an old part of himself he no longer needed.
From his jacket, he pulled out the Crown Phone.
It powered on. Oracle's interface blinked to life.
He stared at the screen for a moment.
Then whispered:
"No distractions. Just one year."
He leaned back as the door closed.
The car drove into the dark.