City winter in Xia was a strange animal. Mornings felt like walking through fog and car exhaust,
the air stinging your nose just enough to remind you you're alive. I ran laps on the school field,
the world still waking up, breath sharp with cold. My legs protested—aching, wobbling with
every stride—but I forced myself on. It wasn't just about shedding weight now; it was about
discipline, about owning a body I'd always loathed. Football drills still left me sore and bruised,
but I was no longer the last kid to finish the run. Any progress at this stage was a small, private
kind of victory.
School days blurred by, colored by the hum of election talk—everyone on edge, grownups
worried about jobs, kids parroting whatever their parents said at home. "You think Sharad's
party will get its shit together this time?" Kane grunted, tying his sneakers beside me on the low
gym wall. "Or are they going to just blame the PM forever?"
I shrugged, faking the bored teenager life. "Does it matter? They're all crooks. Only difference is,
some wear better suits."
Kane cracked up. "You sound like my uncle after three whiskeys."
Lunch was its usual chaos. Angelica, sun in her hair, slid into our group at the far table. "Anyone
want answers for Sharma ma'am's homework? I might have, um, borrowed them from her desk."
She winked at me—a gesture both innocent and conspiratorial. She was still just a friend, but in
those small moments, I was reminded how good it felt to simply belong.
After school, my double life began again. I ducked into the public library, backpack heavy with
notebooks and a USB stick full of encrypted files—tracking my bitcoin (now 1,890 mined, 200
bought), betting profits (over four million rupees), and every transaction funneled through my
network of digital and physical banks.
I stood outside Arjun Malhotra's law office for the first time, studying the nameplate. Dad had
mentioned him—a young, ambitious lawyer who sometimes visited schools for legal awareness
programs. "Sharp as a blade and twice as hungry," Dad had said. Perfect for what I needed.
The office was modest but professional—law books lining the walls, certificates displayed
strategically, the smell of fresh coffee and ambition. Arjun himself was younger than I'd
expected, maybe thirty-five, with eyes that seemed to calculate the worth of everything they
saw.
"So, you're Jacob's son," he said, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. "Your father says
you're interested in law. Bit unusual for a boy your age."
"I'm interested in a lot of things, sir. Particularly how legal systems protect people's assets
during uncertain times." I kept my voice steady, mature.
His eyebrows raised slightly. "Assets? You're what, fifteen? What assets could you possibly
have?"
"Let's just say I've been fortunate with some investments and family gifts. And I like to plan
ahead." I pulled out a small stack of cash—clean notes, nothing flashy, but enough to show I was
serious. "I'd like to retain your services for some preliminary legal work."
Arjun leaned back, studying me with fresh interest. "What kind of legal work?"
"Setting up trusts, understanding confidentiality laws, preparing for...future opportunities. I
believe in being ready for changes before they happen."
"Changes?" His voice sharpened with curiosity.
"Economic changes. Policy shifts. The kind of events that create problems for some people and
opportunities for others." I met his gaze directly. "I have a feeling big changes are coming to this
country's financial system. And when they do, people with foresight and proper legal
preparation will do very well."
A slow smile spread across his face. "You're an unusual kid, Jake. Most boys your age are
worried about cricket scores and girlfriends."
"I worry about those too. But I also worry about having enough money to never worry about
money again."
He laughed—a sound both impressed and calculating. "Alright, I'm intrigued. What exactly are
you proposing?"
"A retainer. Small scale for now, but with the understanding that if my predictions about coming
changes prove accurate, you'll be my primary legal counsel for much bigger things."
"How much bigger?"
"The kind where your fees would be in millions, not thousands."
Arjun's eyes widened slightly. He studied the cash on his desk, then looked back at me. "You
realize I could just take your money and give you some basic legal advice about trusts?"
"You could. But then you'd miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime. Because I'm not just another
client, Mr. Malhotra. I'm someone who sees around corners."
He was quiet for a long moment, weighing risks and possibilities. Finally, he extended his hand.
"Alright, Jake. You've got yourself a lawyer. But I'll want specifics soon. This better not be some
rich kid fantasy."
We shook hands—his grip firm, professional, hungry. The first piece was set.