The city glittered below like a spreadsheet I'd already short-sold. Pathetic. I preferred it when the dots were people.
Where are my manners? I haven't introduced myself.
Name: Eamond Richard.
Age: 30 (with the skincare routine of a vampire and the soul of a pawnshop owner).
Net Worth: Enough to buy your lineage, your secrets, and the air you're breathing.
Relationship Status: Single, Tax-deductible liaisons, though? My calendar's booked. So, ladies and gents, you don't need to worry, you still have your shot, or do you?
But we're getting off topic here. We're here to celebrate me. Why do you ask? Tonight we're celebrating my crowning as the richest being in human history. Not bad for an orphan who started life in a dumpster.
My musing and joy were suddenly interrupted by a voice.
"Boss, the truffle-infused caviar's here," called a voice silkier than the Persian rug I'd bankrupted a small nation to acquire.
I turned, grinning. "Mikhail, darling. You know I prefer my luxuries extra indulgent." My chef—a former Russian spy turned dessert anarchist—rolled his eyes and set down a tray of black pearls glistening. "Compromise. I added gold leaf."
"You're a treasure," I said, plucking a pearl and popping it into the mouth of the oil heir draped over my chaise lounge. "Open wide, sweetheart. Daddy's investing." He obeyed, gasping as the cold gold hit his tongue. Cute.
The intercom then buzzed.
"Lord Richard..."Jane's voice crackled. Loyal, efficient, and terrified of me—the perfect secretary. "There is a call for you."
"If it's Howard, tell him to shove his counteroffer. If it's Amy, tell her that I'll meet her next month for our dinner date and wear that lingerie that I like, and if it's Johnny, tell him I'll see him this Friday for our swimming date. Also, tell him I want to see him in a Speedo or not."
" No, my lord, it's someone else."
" Ohh, who would want to meet me at this time of the night. A business person trying to get some capital, a rich kid trying to hook up with me, or a celebrity who needs a career boost?"
" No, my lord."
"Is it a blonde, desperate, and wearing something that violates OSHA regulations?"
"It's the delegation from the Vatican."
"Same difference." I straightened my cuffs and strolled to my desk. "Send them up. And Jane? Wear the red heels tonight. The ones that scream 'tax evasion.'"
"I'm hanging up now, sir."
"You'll cave by Christmas!"
The elevator dinged. Three cardinals walked in, their robes a depressing shade of scarlet. Amateurs.
"Gentlemen!" I spread my arms wide, nearly knocking over a Picasso I'd bought just to piss off a rival. "Welcome to the Church of Eamond. Tithes accepted in cash, crypto, or sexual favors."
The youngest cardinal, who was about 25, blushed. Delicious.
They sat. I didn't. Dominance, darling. Always dominance.
"We've come to discuss your… Afterlife Holdings project," said the head cardinal, fingers steepled like he was auditioning for a Bond villain spinoff. "The Holy See cannot condone—"
"Condone? Oh, sweetheart, condoms are for people who don't own pharmaceutical companies." I leaned across the desk, close enough to smell his regret. "Let's skip the sermon. You want a cut."
"This is about souls, Mr. Richard!"
"Everything's about souls. Yours, mine, the barista who thinks oat milk is a personality. The question is—" I licked my lips, slow. "—what's yours worth?"
He slammed a folder on the desk. "We'll sue."
I laughed. I couldn't help it. "Darling, I own the judges, the juries, and the cute bailiff with the dimples. Sue me and I'll countersue for emotional damages. And win."
The blushing cardinal stood, trembling. "You can't monetize death!"
"Watch me." I pressed the panic button under my desk. "Security? We've got three souls in need of… redemption."
The cardinals scrambled as my guards—a delightful mix of ex-Navy SEALs and strippers I'd poached from Vegas—herded them out. The youngest glanced back. I blew him a kiss. "Confessions on Wednesdays, sweetheart. Bring latex."
Alone again. Bliss.
I poured myself another drink, humming to the beat of the city's heartbeat below. This is my heartbeat. My rhythm. My world. The bourbon burned, but so did the memory of cold floors and colder porridge. Orphanages teach you two things: how to fight, and how to win. I'd turned both into art forms.
The intercom buzzed. Persistent little thing.
"Lord Richard, your… other 8 PM is here." Jane's voice dripped with disapproval. I adored her for it.
"Is that jealousy I hear, Janey? Don't worry, you'll always be my favorite bad decision."
"It's Ms. Yan. Says she's from Heavenly Inc."
" Who?"
"She says that she has an appointment with you, and I check 3 times and she does."
" How does she look ?"
" Mysterious yet alluring," Jane replied in a daze
Now I'm intrigued. " Sent her up."
A while later, the door ding and out came a stunningly beautiful, alluring yet mysterious woman in a white Chanel business suit. I circle her like a shark circling its prey.
Yet this woman, I only smiled an empty half smile. Now that I've taken her all in, she looks very ethereal. Pure white hair, pale, almost white skin, and emerald green eyes, accompanied by her white suit, make her look like a goddess.
" Careful, Mr. Richard. I repossess souls… and wardrobes. Now that you have taken a good look, why don't we get down to business?" A sickly sweet yet melodious voice came from her
" Oh-h. But of course, Miss.." I asked, a bit scared
" You can call me Yan Meigui," she said as she sat down comfortably, legs crossed and her head perched on her hand, on the sofa
" Okay, " as I sat in the chair next to her
" Do you know why I'm here?" She started
" I could think of several reasons, I hope it's some of the spicy ones."
" You're a cheeky little one, aren't you?" She said calmly as she was drinking her tea? Weird, I never give her anything to drink, especially tea.
" Eamond Richard, born to Elisa and Leonard Richard, was abandoned as a baby at St. Angelica Orphanage because of his parents ' stricken life, and started his first business hustle at 8 when the orphanage was struggling financially. Ultimately, the orphanage went bankrupt after the money from the local church and donations stopped at the age of 14. Worked Tirelessly for 8 years to build his first company and another 8 to build it to this size," as she explained, I grew more nervous, especially how she pulled a book out of thin air.
" Who are you exactly!? " I asked anxiously for an answer
" You already know the answer to that," she cryptically replied
" I thought God was a man."
" I'm not God, but a god under him."
" So you're here to punish me for trying to sleep with a cardinal?"
" Of course not. I'm here to offer you an opportunity of a lifetime."
" A get out of hell free card?"
" No, that's something that only happened in fiction. I'm talking about something real that only you can buy."
I move closer as I am intrigued by this woman's offer. The room then shifts into some kind of commercial on a TV set.
"It's the chance to decide your next life. By buying it from me, you can customize your appearance, your world of choice, and even your destiny. Provided you have enough capital, that is. Your death is uncertain, but your next life won't be."
" So what do I get?"
" How much money are you willing to spend? And don't worry, I only take your money when you die, even if you lose all your money before you die, the money used for this payment will be taken from wherever that money goes."
" In that case, I'll spend 60% of it."
" Congratulations! In your next life, you'll have an appearance that makes PanAn look like a monkey, a figure that makes Adonis look like an overweight suburban dad, as well as an allure that will captivate man and woman..."
"And.." I asked excitedly
" What!! That's it, I don't get superpower or being born in a wealthy and respectable lineage?!"
" Of course not, you don't have enough good karma points to buy that," she explained calmly
" You said as long as I have money I-"
" I said capital. While money can help buy physical things. After all, you can buy beauty in this world, a little nip here, a little tuck there, a cut here, a lippo there, a cute health trainer to whip you into the beauty you want."
Yan Meigui's smile didn't waver. "Karma is the currency of destiny, Mr. Richard. You've spent your life trading in moral bankruptcy—did you really think it wouldn't affect your credit score?"
I leaned back, fingers drumming on the armrest. "Let me guess. You're here to upsell me. 'For just 10% of your soul, upgrade to Premium Reincarnation!'"
Her emerald eyes glinted. "Perceptive. But souls are… outdated. I deal in leverage." She snapped her fingers. The room dissolved into a stock market ticker, numbers blazing:
SOUL EQUITY: 0
KARMA CREDIT: -∞
LIQUID ASSETS: $127.3 TRILLION
"Charming," I muttered. "Even my debt has debt."
"But!" Yan flourished a golden scroll. "For a nominal fee—say, 90% of your Earthly fortune—I can bundle your… unique moral portfolio into a bespoke transmigration package."
I arched a brow. "What's the catch?"
"No catch. Just a system that converts wealth into power. Think of it as… venture capitalism for the afterlife."
"You had me at 'venture capitalism.'" I swiped the scroll. "But why 90%? I'm allergic to discounts."
"The remaining 10% funds your starter package in the new world. A pauper's life, rags, and—"
"—a chip on my shoulder? Done." I scrawled my signature in blood-red ink. "Let's disrupt destiny."
The contract burst into flames. Yan's laugh echoed like wind chimes in a hurricane. "Congratulations, Mr. Richard. I will be waiting to see you in your next life."
" Well, you have to wait a bit longer. I'm not planning to die anytime soon."
" Hehehehe, Ah, you mortals are always a riot." Yan Meigui laughed quite loudly as if she had just heard the funniest joke ever.
" My other reasons for coming to see you are to send a message from my husband, the god of death." She said while giving an eerie smile. I slowly back away from her.
" He said your time is up." She said in a chilly voice.
"Your husband sounds like my third ex-wife. Let me guess: bald, bad breath, and obsessed with deadlines?" I quib back
My vision blurred, but I grinned, blood trickling from the corner of my mouth. "Tell your husband I'll be sending an invoice. Interest on borrowed time is… crippling."
Yan Meigui leaned in, her breath cold as a bank vault. "Oh, but debts follow you, little broker. Even into the next life." Her finger tapped the contract now glowing on my chest. "And this one's non-negotiable."