"Yes... I struck gold!"
His heart raced in excitement, a grin forming before he knew it.
He grinned like a child getting his favorite toy on Christmas morning.
The fantasy creature, the magic man in a bottle, the legendary genie, was released right in front of him—the world in his hands.
"I can get anything, no restrictions," he inquired, the sense of fear completely disappearing as his gaze filled with insatiable greed.
The genie only nodded in response.
"..." He began to muse, as this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—the power to create or destroy the world.
Thoughts of revenge against those who brought him to ruin crossed his mind.
His mouth opened, ready to make his first wish for their ruin, yet he paused.
He had been weak—a gazelle in the lion's den.
But now he had power.
Directly destroying them wouldn't be fun; he wanted to flaunt his power, wanted them to despair, wanted them to feel the helplessness he had felt.
He remembered how he couldn't do anything back then, forced to put on a facade of confidence while every word, especially that slap, had stung.
He caressed his cheek, remembering that fateful day from ten years ago.
"It would be too quick and unsatisfying... or I could just forget about it..." He mused carefully about what he truly wanted.
Revenge seemed unnecessary.
"...But just seeing her grovel beneath me wouldn't be a bad sight... I don't even know where she is now..." He continued thinking of ways to destroy those who had brought him to ruin.
"Yes, I've got it!" His eyes brightened as he thought of a way to get what he wanted while still achieving satisfying revenge.
"Genie." He turned to the magical being. "Can you send me back in time to the prime of my life?" he asked.
"If that is your wish, it shall be so..."
"Wait, not yet..." He paused, remembering how tricky genies were in the folktales he'd read.
Genies could twist his words, granting his wish but not as he intended.
"Is it possible for me to become the richest person that has lived or will ever live—not in my current life, but in the life you would regress me to?..." He chose his words carefully, explaining as much as possible to avoid ambiguity that the genie could exploit.
"If that is your wish, it will be so..." the genie responded again, its tone emotionless.
"Wait, so that would be two wishes, right? A regression and abundant riches..." He paused, thinking of the last wish.
"This genie could still trick me. It's been bitter granting wishes its whole life. If I free it, I can avoid trickery and might even gain a perk," he thought, deciding on his final wish.
"Genie, I'm ready." He stepped forward, his gaze focused.
"Ask, and it shall be given..."
"Take note—my wishes are interconnected. My first wish is to go back to the past, to the prime of my life at age 20..." He added, ensuring his words couldn't be twisted.
The "prime of his life" could be misinterpreted—his physical peak in prison or his mentally stable childhood—any of which the genie could use to its advantage.
"My second wish—note it's connected to the first..." he repeated. "Make me the richest person in that era, with a net worth of 200 trillion US dollars or more if needed... Note the current dollar value." He mentioned an amount he knew exceeded his home country's entire net worth.
"And for the last wish, I wish you free," he spoke, checking for any reaction from the genie, yet there was nothing—its face blank.
"...You're a hardworking guy, take a break." He added, hoping to elicit a response.
Sure enough, the corners of the genie's lips curved—a grin, a smile.
He couldn't tell if the giant floating before him was mocking or pleased, but the change in expression reassured him he wouldn't be tricked.
"Your wish is my command." With that, the genie snapped its fingers, reddish-purple dust filling the room.
His vision spun as a strange sensation enveloped him.
He felt his body lighten, his head grow heavy, his left leg go limp, his right leg become hypersensitive—a circus of sensations ravaging his body.
The experience continued as visions of the world moving in reverse filled his mind.
Despite the discomfort, he wore a smile—grinning in excitement for the future to come.
Whoosh!
A bright light hit his body with enough force to knock him unconscious.
_____
Beeeeeeep!!! ... Beep!! ... Beep!! ... Beep!! ... Beep!! ...
The rhythmic sound of a heart monitor echoed in his ears as his eyes slowly fluttered open.
"Ahh, I feel like shit..." Richard groaned fully, opening his eyes to a scene that felt foreign: a hospital room, white and pristine, spacious enough to house five more beds, yet he was the only one in it.
"A hospital, how did I get here?" He sat up, trying to remember what had happened.
Memories of the Genie flashed through his mind, his confused expression transforming into one of joy.
"The genie... Did it work?" He attempted to get out of bed and check himself in the mirror, halting as he noticed the tubes still attached to his arm—young, vibrant, and slightly muscular.
The arm was one he immediately recognized, skin he longed for: the arm of his youth.
"It worked..." He smiled, carefully pulling the tubes out as he hurried to the washroom.
A large grin spread across his face as he saw his reflection.
A beautiful youth stared back at him, his facial features more on the beautiful side than manly, his fierce gaze dispelling any confusion about his gender.
"This is new," he mused, running his hand through his blonde hair, slightly taken aback since he had always had sleek black hair—one of the weapons he used in his games.
"Well, this isn't bad either. Did I dye my hair back in the day..." He tried to recall, struggling to remember as it had been more than thirty years.
"Whatever," he decided to push such thought to the back of his mind as he continued to observe his features, even taking off his clothes to admire his second-best weapon.
"I still got it..." He chuckled, looking down at his wingman.
Ahhhhh!!!
A terrified scream echoed in the hospital room, catching him off guard.