-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
(PS: A friend suggested I create a P@treon account. If you'd like to see advanced chapters posted on Webnovel, that's where you can find them! I'll also mention all the supporters at the end of each chapter!)
Search : StoryLabo or click the link on my bio
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Aiden blinked, his mind slowly rising from the depths of mental space toward reality. The dull colors of the physical world progressively replaced the golden hues of his astral confrontation.
Well, what a trip.
In front of him, Mister Leblanc was looking at him with that slightly confused expression people have when they've just "zoned out" for a few seconds. His eyes passed over Aiden's face without lingering, perceiving nothing unusual about this kid with broken glasses.
- "My god, my little one," said Leblanc bending toward him, picking up the debris from his glasses. "I'm really sorry! Those damn glasses exploded when you fell."
Aiden adopted his most innocent expression which was that perfect mixture between gratitude and childish embarrassment.
- "It's not serious, sir," he stammered rubbing his eyes. "They were already damaged anyway..."
- "Nonsense!" exclaimed Leblanc with enthusiasm that seemed... authentic. Well, as authentic as someone whose mind was a perfect representation of greed and cupidity could be. "I'm going to buy you new ones! Better ones! You'll see, my boy, with quality lenses, the world will be much clearer without light being able to reach them."
Meanwhile Aiden felt the connection, thin as a hair but solid as steel, that now linked his mind to the banker's. It was... intoxicating. Like having a direct phone line to a human being's command center. One simple "mental call" and he could make this man his personal slave.
Hello, hello Mister Leblanc, be my bitch please
But not now, this wasn't the time nor the place and he had other concerns.
- "Thank you so much, sir!" he replied with false grateful joy that would have deserved an Oscar. "You're really too kind!"
He returned to the back of the group where the other children were waiting for him. Lucas threw him a worried look.
- "You okay, Aiden? You looked weird when you fell..."
- "Just dizziness," he lied easily. "Those new glasses were too tight, I think."
Above their heads, the clouds that were still rumbling a few minutes earlier were progressively calming. The storm was subsiding, and with it, the weather was taking on more clement colors.
Mrs. Pemberton and Sarah exchanged a relieved look.
- "Well, children," announced Mrs. Pemberton clapping her hands, "I think it's the perfect time to go home. The weather is calming down, and we wouldn't want to abuse Mister Leblanc's kindness."
They said their goodbyes to Leblanc, who shook Aiden's hand with a particularly warm smile, like they were now friends forever, like BEST FRIENDS FOREVER!!!!! Then they headed toward the bus stop.
The return trip lasted about twenty minutes. Aiden remained silent, watching the London landscape scroll by through the fogged window. In his head, he delicately tested his new connection. A small mental "ping," just to check that the link held firm.
Instantly, he felt Leblanc's mind respond, docile, awaiting orders.
Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
The days passed in relative normalcy. At least, in appearance.
Aiden had decided to leave his "puppet" alone for the moment. No need to rush things and attract attention with too sudden behavioral changes in the banker. Patience was a virtue he had learned to cultivate.
But that evening, sitting in his bed after Mrs. Pemberton had turned off the lights in the common room, Aiden felt it was time to test the real capabilities of his new "toy."
He sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and let his consciousness drift toward that familiar place that was his platform of bricks floating in the ocean of orange clouds.
Once installed on his mental platform, he contemplated this strange space that served as his inner refuge. The clouds still scrolled at that hypnotic speed, tinted with that copper color that reminded him of his own eyes. The platform itself was still simple, just a few square meters of red bricks, without flourishes, without decorations.
Is this really it, my mental representation? A fucking flying platform?
He thought back to Leblanc's mental space, that cave lined with gold, that capitalist fairy tale decor. Compared to that, his own "domain" looked rather... minimalist.
Maybe that's it, my vulnerability. If someone managed to locate this platform...
But on the other hand, it moved constantly, navigating through this cloudy ocean without a fixed itinerary. Impossible to map, difficult to target. Maybe it was smarter than he thought.
Well, we'll see about that later. For now, I have a banker to program.
He closed his eyes and projected his consciousness outward, following that tenuous golden thread that connected him to Leblanc. The man must be sleeping at this hour, perfect. It was always easier to manipulate a resting mind.
The connection was established without resistance. Aiden smiled feeling his puppet's docile mind respond to his call.
So, my dear Leblanc, we're going to do some financial shopping.
Through his golden threads, he began weaving suggestions into the banker's sleeping mind. Not brutal orders, that was for emergencies. No, ideas that would germinate naturally, that Leblanc would believe were his own upon waking.
Tomorrow morning, you'll have an illumination. You must diversify your portfolio. Invest in those promising new technologies...
He carefully implanted the names: Apple, Google, a few other companies he remembered would make fortunes in years to come. For Leblanc, they would just be the intuitions of a shrewd businessman.
And then, there's this excellent idea of opening a new account. Something discreet. 100,000 pounds would make a good starting capital... Then you'll place this card near the orphanage porch and return home without finding it strange.
Leblanc's mind, bound in his golden threads, absorbed the suggestions like a sponge. Aiden added some practical details, the orphanage address, the precise time (4:30 PM), the deposit date in two days. Everything had to seem natural, logical and indisputable.
Satisfied with his work, he delicately broke the connection and let his consciousness drift back toward his personal platform.
Once back in his mental space, he stretched like a satisfied cat and let out a small laugh.
- "That'll make me a nice birthday present, 100,000 pounds. Long live wealth!"
Oh yeah, that's right. In a few days, I'll be eleven.
Mrs. Pemberton had always told him he was born that day, she had apparently found his birth certificate in the basket. Since then, they celebrated his birthday every year. Modestly, of course. The orphanage didn't have the means to go grandiose.
But this year would be different. This year, eleven years old was generally when the Hogwarts letter made its arrival.
Eleven years old... the age when Harry Potter received his Hogwarts letter and I'll receive mine without problem. Unless my mental arts don't count as a magical explosion and the Admissions book didn't recognize him as a wizard. Shit!
He began to stress slightly but calmed down quickly, objectives by objectives. By then, he had a financial empire to build. And a very cooperative banker to help him.
Thank you for everything, Mister Leblanc. You don't know it yet, but you just became my first employee.
In the orange clouds surrounding him, Aiden Mortensen sketched a smile that definitely had nothing childlike about it.
The future looked... lucrative.