Without further hesitation, David tapped on the link, which led him to an app in the Play Store.
Setting it up was quick—all he needed to do was scan his bank card, and it automatically logged him into his account.
"Talk about convenience," David noted, then proceeded to set up his new phone.
Truthfully, he had nothing stored on his old phone; everything important had long since been backed up. He had nothing to worry about, even if they were tapping his phone.
"Come to think of it, would such technology even work in Nigeria? There's barely any network, let alone Wi-Fi or mobile data, to handle all this."
Sucking his teeth in disapproval, David shrugged it off, deciding it wasn't his problem. He reset the phone back to factory settings.
"If they plan to tap my phone, they can go right ahead." He dropped the phone by his bedside without hesitation.
"Now let's see if I can finally play C.O.D. on ultra graphics," David said excitedly, settling in on the bed.
Making sure to sit properly to avoid back pain later, he opened the game and began playing.
Hours passed as he immersed himself in the game. For a while, he wasn't thinking about the group out to control him, those wanting to use him, or those who would even try to kill him if they could.
"What time is it?" David wondered aloud after snapping out of his gaming trance.
Looking around, he noticed the sky had darkened a bit, meaning he had been playing far longer than he'd realized. Dropping the phone on the bed, David finally took a good look at his surroundings. Beside the bed, he noticed the bell he was told to ring if he needed any assistance.
If anything demonstrated his newfound wealth, it was that simple bell.
"Come to think of it, how does one even spend three trillion dollars?" he asked himself.
No matter how he thought about it, the mission seemed nearly impossible. A trillion dollars was already a staggering amount—a thousand billion dollars.
"Am I supposed to buy houses or cars endlessly?" he muttered to himself.
Even the most expensive houses barely cost a few million dollars, and only a handful of cars came close to that price, too. If he went down that path, he'd be buying houses and cars indefinitely.
Ring
David rang the bell, and moments later, the butler entered with a warm smile, straightening his attire after presumably rushing over.
"Mr. Obi has left, right?" David asked.
"Yes, sir. He left immediately after briefing your bodyguards," the man replied.
"Okay. When will dinner be ready? And tomorrow, could you arrange for someone to set up a home router? I think it would benefit everyone."
"As you wish, sir."
"Thank you. And about that tour you offered earlier?"
"If you're ready, we can go now," the butler replied, gesturing toward the door.
"Let's go. By the way, what's your name?" David asked as they walked.
"George McArthur, sir," the man replied.
"McArthur, are you British?" David asked almost instantly.
"I am, sir."
"Wow, they really got me my own Alfred," David muttered with a grin.
Following George, David toured the house. The study alone was twice the size of his former room. The kitchen was massive, and he hadn't even started on the main living room—mansions truly were on another level.
In smaller homes, you could tell how many rooms were present by how much space each room had. Here, he only needed to know that there were a lot of rooms—and they were all large.
As he explored, he saw the maids and other servants hired by Mr. Obi going about their tasks. They had settled in far quicker than he had; in fact, they seemed completely at ease, as if they had always been here.
"It seems everyone has settled in well," David observed.
"Well, the work around the house must go on," George replied.
"When dinner is ready, call me. I'll be in the study for now," David said, leaving the butler.
He had to figure a few things out quickly; the longer the money sat in his account, the more danger he sensed.
Entering the study, David was grateful to find some blank journals lying around. The shelves were mostly empty, something he'd have to fill himself later. For now, he was happy to have the notebooks.
"First, let's sort out what I know," he said, jotting down notes.
His situation wasn't hard to grasp. The gods had given him wealth beyond what most nations could handle. Yet, there were conditions, even with his near-unlimited resources.
If he didn't reinvest the money into the economy within a specific, unknown timeframe, everything would end.
The World Bank.
International Bodies.
The first issue was daunting. He had no idea how to solve it yet, as he didn't even know the deadline. And he had no way of contacting Nomus. The ring tattoo on his finger was merely a symbol, a reminder of his duty and his status as an apostle.
"Come to think of it, do I get any perks besides wealth as an apostle?" he grumbled.
These circumstances made the first problem urgent; the only way to address it was to spend as much of the money as fast as possible.
"Let's set the deadline to a year," David decided, writing it down.
He didn't know if this was realistic or not, but he figured even the gods would understand that spending three trillion USD in a single year was a massive feat. He hoped he could manage it.
The second issue was both a problem and an advantage. The World Bank was backing him, likely to maintain a level of influence over him.
They weren't even hiding it. He wasn't sure if their intentions were malicious or merely profit-driven. Given their approach to gain his favor, he suspected it was just business.
...
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