The sound of the sea hummed softly in the background as Eric reached out to receive the payment. The tourist, a blonde woman with light eyes and a warm smile, handed him a few gleaming coins while holding the freshly purchased ice-cream cone. He watched the small metal pieces resting in his palm—euros, round, cold, and absolutely ordinary. Nothing more than one more transaction on a day just like any other.
With a tired sigh, Eric tossed the coins into the cash register. He was a young man with ordinary black hair, lacking any feature that might make him stand out in a crowd. Even so, anyone paying closer attention would notice that his eyes—though equally dark—carried a deep weariness, the kind of exhaustion that feels heavier than the shoulders can bear. His white shirt, already a bit wrinkled, contrasted with the black pants and red cap of the convenience store uniform. The green apron completed the look, rendering him practically invisible among the cheerful tourists roaming around the beach area.
"Boss, I'm going on my break," he said, his voice low and drained of energy.
"Twenty minutes, huh? Not a second more," the manager replied without even lifting his eyes from his phone.
Eric simply nodded and walked out the door. As soon as the salty beach air touched his face, he felt a small sliver of relief, as if for a moment he could breathe away from the suffocating walls of the shop. He slipped off his shoes for a moment and let the soft sand welcome him. He sat down, hugging his knees, and watched the tourists running, laughing, posing for photos. Women from different countries, tanned, beautiful, smiling… The kind of people who, to him, belonged to a world entirely out of reach.
An ordinary young man, with no money, no prospects, and now… no college.
The thought squeezed his chest tightly. He had dropped out only a few days earlier, when he finally found himself unable to keep paying the tuition and living away from home. The weight of the decision still crushed him. He thought about what awaited him when he returned to his small hometown: disappointed looks, spiteful whispers, silent judgments. The phrases he had always heard echoed relentlessly in his mind:
"He should've stayed here. People like us weren't born to dream big."
Each memory burned hotter than the scorching afternoon sun.
Then something impossible happened.
A soft light began to appear in the air, right before his eyes. Eric blinked several times, trying to convince himself it was just the reflection of the water or a trick of the sun. But the glow took shape, outlined itself like an ethereal rectangle… and became a transparent screen floating just inches from his face.
Startled, he recoiled into the sand, his heart pounding violently.
Golden letters began writing themselves:
"Congratulations! You have just been selected for the Midas System."
The screen glowed brighter, as if celebrating its own existence, and Eric swallowed hard.
"The Midas System allows you to exchange ordinary coins for gold coins of the same weight."
Another line appeared:
"Do you accept becoming part of the Midas System? Attention: for acceptance, the coin must be officially authentic."
Eric's heart seemed to freeze. He looked around, desperate. Families, couples, tourists playing in the water… no one noticed anything unusual. No one reacted. Nothing even reflected the existence of that floating thing in front of him.
"This has to be… a prank. Or I've finally lost my mind," he muttered, a shiver running down his spine.
But the screen remained steady, unmoving, awaiting his answer.
Eric felt a chill creep up his spine as he remembered the three coins in his pocket—the spare change he had forgotten to put into the register during the rushed service.
With a trembling hand, he tapped the "accept" option.
In that instant, a bright glow enveloped the coins inside his pocket. Eric jumped in fright, unsure whether to scream or run. A small golden flame shimmered at waist level, spinning like a tiny vortex. The glow condensed, spun faster, and, as if made of pure liquid light, transformed into a single golden coin that dropped into his hand.
A gold coin.
Pure.
Heavy.
Mesmerizing.
The world around him seemed to vanish. The sound of the sea grew distant, muffled. The tourists' laughter turned into faint echoes. All that existed in that moment was the coin glimmering under the sun, so real and radiant it seemed plucked from an ancient treasure.
"Is this… is this real?" Eric whispered, unable to believe it.
Was it truly gold? Or just another trick of his stressed, problem-laden mind? He rolled the coin between his fingers, feeling its unmistakable weight, its cold texture, the shine that didn't fade even in the shadow of his own hand.
"What's happening to me?" he murmured, barely audible.
But he had no time to think. His phone vibrated in his pocket: his break time was long over.
"Shit!" he exclaimed, jumping up so abruptly he nearly stumbled.
He hid the coin in his pocket and sprinted across the hot sand. When he reached the convenience store entrance, still out of breath, he found his boss standing there, arms crossed, wearing an expression far from friendly.
"Eric," the manager said, pointing at the clock on the wall, "you are VERY late."
The young man swallowed hard. The world still spun slowly, as if stuck between the before and after of that golden light. He had no idea how to answer, how to act, how to return to normal.
And deep in his pocket, the little coin seemed to throb, silently reminding him that something extraordinary—and completely impossible—had just begun.