CHAPTER TWO: INITIAL CAPITAL
He did not understand language yet.
But he understood numbers.
The world returned in fragments—light pressing against closed eyelids, muffled voices, the sterile smell of disinfectant. His body was small. Weak. Every movement felt delayed, filtered through flesh that had not yet learned how to obey intention.
He cried.
Not from fear.
From oxygen entering his lungs too fast.
Somewhere beyond sensation, something stirred.
C.A.I.R.O.S SYSTEM SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE.
Host temporal anchor confirmed.
Year: 1980.
Causal divergence: 0.0001%
Kang Min-Jae did not panic.
Panic was inefficient.
The memories were intact. Whole. Heavy. Decades of experience compressed into a brain the size of a fist. It hurt—not physically, but structurally. Like pouring an ocean into a teacup.
The system compensated.
Neural load stabilized.
Cognitive compression active.
Good.
He drifted in and out of awareness for weeks. Maybe months. Time was meaningless when measured in feedings and sleep. But beneath the surface, something else was happening.
He was observing.
His parents' voices. Their accents. The economic stress hiding beneath forced optimism. The cramped apartment. The cheap furniture. The absence of privilege.
Lower-middle class. No assets. No leverage.
Acceptable.
Wealth built from nothing was harder to trace.
THE RULES OF TIME
The system did not speak often.
It intervened only when necessary, like a risk manager watching a volatile position.
Notice:
Major historical events remain unchanged.
Minor personal decisions may influence probabilistic branches.
Translation:
Big waves were fixed. Small ripples were negotiable.
Min-Jae tested it the only way he could—by doing nothing.
He let time pass.
The world did not collapse.
Good.
FIRST ASSET: TRUST
By the time he could sit up, he had learned the rhythm of his household.
His mother was careful with money. Too careful. The kind of woman who counted coins twice before spending them once. His father worked long hours, paid late, smiled anyway.
They loved him.
That was… inconvenient.
Love introduced variables.
Still, variables could be managed.
Min-Jae learned when to cry. When not to. When silence produced faster results than noise. He smiled early. Laughed on cue. Became, by all measurable accounts, an easy child.
Social Capital +0.3
The system approved.
MEMORY IS A WEAPON
He began organizing the future.
Not by dates—but by inevitability.
Oil shocks.
Currency collapses.
Corporate scandals.
Tech booms.
He built a mental map of inflection points. Places where a small push produced massive returns.
But money required access.
Access required age.
Age required patience.
He hated patience.
Still, he waited.
THE GOD CHECKS IN
The first time the god spoke again, Min-Jae was three years old.
The apartment lights flickered. Just once.
Reality thinned.
"You are moving slowly," the god observed.
"I am minimizing detection," Min-Jae replied internally. "Even gods should respect compounding."
A pause.
Then amusement.
"You think like capital."
"I think like survival."
"They are the same."
The presence receded.
Divine Interest Logged.
Min-Jae exhaled.
Even gods could be managed—if approached correctly.
THE FIRST MOVE
The opportunity came earlier than expected.
His father brought home a newspaper one evening, folding it carefully after dinner. Min-Jae watched from the floor, stacking wooden blocks.
The headline burned into his mind.
GOLD PRICES RISE AS GLOBAL UNCERTAINTY GROWS
Inflation. Oil. Fear.
Perfect.
He crawled toward the table and knocked the newspaper down "accidentally." His father laughed, picked it up—and paused.
"Gold, huh…" he muttered.
Min-Jae pointed at the picture. Babbling nonsense.
Again.
Again.
Children were irrational. Persistent. Annoying.
The seed was planted.
Causal Influence Detected:
Probability shift: 1.2%
That was enough.
INITIAL CAPITAL
It took six months.
Six months of subtle nudges. Repeated exposure. Gentle reinforcement. Min-Jae never pushed—he suggested.
His father spoke to a coworker.
Then another.
Then a cousin.
A small amount of savings moved.
Not much.
But enough.
When gold prices surged, the family gained more money in one quarter than his father made in a year.
His mother cried.
His father stared at the numbers like they were unreal.
Min-Jae watched silently from his crib.
Capital Acquired: ₩███,███
Return on Influence: 430%
He smiled.
Not because of the money.
Because the system had confirmed something far more important.
Time could be bought.
THE LONG GAME
That night, Min-Jae lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
This was not about luck.
This was about scale.
He would not rush.
He would not dazzle.
He would not become a prodigy that attracted attention.
He would become invisible.
Invisible children grew up.
Invisible men ruled.
Next Objective Unlocked:
Secure independent capital by age 10.
Min-Jae closed his eyes.
Outside, the future waited—
unaware it had already been purchased.