Freya Van Daalen's Perspective
Freya Van Daalen had heard every kind of opinion about Pilates.
Some of her students quit within the first few days — breathless, sweaty, and indignant — swearing that it wasn't exercise at all, but torture disguised as wellness.Others, however, spoke of Pilates as if it were a spiritual revelation — a turning point between body and mind, something capable of changing not only posture but an entire life.
And honestly, Freya had never doubted which side she was on.She was, without a shadow of a doubt, a devoted supporter.
Pilates wasn't just an exercise.It was a part of who she was.
She had started practicing as a child — at first out of curiosity, later out of necessity.She remembered vividly the days when she tried to convince her sister — always reluctant — to come to class with her, bribing her with promises of dessert afterward.Over the years, that simple habit had become something deeper: discipline, refuge, balance.
When her life had fallen apart — when everything she knew crumbled, and the weight of the world suddenly landed on her shoulders — it was Pilates that had kept her standing.Literally.
It was the control of breath, the awareness of the body, and the strength built through daily effort that allowed her to keep going.To raise her two little troublemakers — as she affectionately called them — on her own, without losing her mind.
But now…
Now, standing in her studio, with the rhythmic sound of synchronized breathing echoing behind her, Freya felt something different.A subtle discomfort — faint, but persistent — growing quietly inside her.
The space around her looked the same as always.The studio was wide and bright, with glass windows letting the afternoon sunlight spill across the pale wood equipment.The air carried a soft scent of lavender and bamboo, blending with the calm instrumental music playing in the background.Her students, neatly aligned in rows, followed the movements with focus, matching breath to motion.
And yet, Freya's mind was elsewhere.
On the far wall, a television flickered silently.The volume was low, but the subtitles were enough to capture her attention.
The headline scrolling across the bottom of the screen made her chest tighten:"Official exchange rate established between national currency and the digital gold of the Black Tower game."
She blinked, eyes fixed on the screen, not even noticing one of her students calling for her.The broadcast showed numbers, charts, and fragments of the game — the Tower rising into a stormy sky, its golden emblem spinning slowly.
For a moment, Freya forgot to breathe.
The decision she had been postponing for weeks seemed to approach her on its own.Would she really keep the studio running?The classes, the schedules, the endless rush — the payments that barely covered the bills?
She loved Pilates.That was never in question.But the world was changing — fast.And for the first time, she wasn't sure if trying to keep everything the same still made sense.
As her students stretched over the reformers, breathing deeply and counting repetitions, Freya remained motionless in front of the screen, feeling the weight of a choice she had never asked to make.
And for the first time in years, the studio — her sanctuary — suddenly felt too small to hold everything she was feeling.
She stayed there, still gripping the wooden bar of the nearest machine, her eyes glued to the television.The sound of steady breathing filled the room, but to her, the world had turned into a distant blur.All that existed in that moment was the screen before her.
She never doubted Alessio.Not once.
She could still remember their conversation perfectly — the calm, steady way he spoke about the game, about how the Black Tower would eventually hold real value, how the lines between digital and physical reality were about to disappear.At the time, she'd listened with fascination — and a hint of skepticism.Not because she thought he was lying, but because it was hard to believe something as intangible as a game could truly reshape the real world.
After all, Alessio was a man of systems and logic.A strategist by nature, always one step ahead — even when no one else saw the path.And she knew him well enough to understand that when he spoke with that quiet certainty, he was almost never wrong.
Still… believing in his words and seeing proof of them were two completely different things.
On that screen, there were no theories — only facts.
The news showed anchors from different countries, economists, investors, even government officials debating the historic decision made by the American administration.Images rolled: exchange charts, glowing digital coins spinning over a black background, headlines repeating across every channel —
"Black Tower gold now holds real-world value.""Global markets react to the dollar–Tower integration."
Freya's heart began to race.
With each new image, the truth became more undeniable — and more surreal.Everything Alessio had predicted, everything he had told her in that calm, analytical voice weeks ago, was happening.Right now.
She pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to process it all.For a moment, she swore the floor beneath her shifted slightly.What had once felt like a distant theory was now a revolution — one she could see, touch, feel.
Freya exhaled slowly, a small, incredulous laugh escaping her lips.
She thought about every hour she'd spent inside the Tower — every item earned, every coin saved through sheer discipline.And suddenly, it all clicked.
What had once been just a game… was now money.Real money.
Her breath caught.Her lips curved slightly as disbelief and excitement tangled in her chest.A chill ran up her arms.
If Alessio was right — and clearly, he was — then Freya Van Daalen had just become rich.
Truly rich.All because of a game.
And for the first time in years, Freya felt her life was about to change forever.