Chapter 59: Settling DebtsIn his modest apartment, Noah pulled up his status screen.

    Host: Noah Carter

    Age: 28

    Shops: 1

    Daily Revenue: $3,000

    Current Assets: $140,220.64

    Shop Points: 1560

    Attributes: Strength: 4, Vitality: 4, Intelligence: 7, Agility: 3

    Skills: Swordsmanship(Level 4), Mana Control (Level 4), Cooking (Level 2), Programming (Level 2), Finance (Level 1), Surviving on Ramen (Level 3), Gaming (Level 1)

    One hundred and forty thousand dollars. My debts are approximately twenty thousand, which would leave me with... a hundred and twenty thousand dollars.

    The numbers still felt surreal, like looking at someone else’s bank account. But as the reality settled in, a new problem appeared in his mind, one he didn’t think of.

    Shit... how am I meant to explain where all this money is coming from?

    His stomach dropped as the probability of being accused of fraud crashed over him. He’d been so focused on earning the money that he’d completely ignored the logistics of actually using it without triggering every financial crime algorithm in existence.

    I didn’t worry about it initially since I barely used anything, but now that I’m going to start spending... I have no explanations!

    Panic crept up his throat like rising bile.

    Images flashed through his mind—IRS investigations, money laundering accusations, federal agents asking very uncomfortable questions about his suddenly flush bank account. Sёarch* The novёlF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

    ’System!’ he thought desperately.

    ’Please tell me you have a solution.’

    [The monetary transfers have been processed through multiple legitimate financial institutions and investment vehicles. All funds appear as returns from diversified portfolio management. Tax obligations have been automatically handled. You need not concern yourself with regulatory scrutiny.]

    The relief was so intense that it made his knees weak.

    "Good," he breathed, collapsing onto his couch.

    "Very good. I thought I would need to call Saul to save me.’

    Checking the time on his phone, Noah realised he could still make it to the bank before closing. But this time, he wasn’t walking anywhere. Not with twenty thousand dollars at stake.

    But first, I need to order a safe taxi. I can’t risk being robbed again.

    The ride passed in comfortable anonymity, the driver more interested in his podcast than his passenger’s potentially lucrative destination. Noah used the time to craft his approach, remembering all too clearly how the previous withdrawal had nearly ended with him being robbed in an alley.

    The bank’s familiar fluorescent lighting greeted him as he joined the queue. And there she was—the same enthusiastic teller whose voice had broadcast his financial status to every opportunistic criminal within earshot.

    Round two. Let’s see if we can avoid the attempted mugging this time.

    Before she could launch into her cheerful customer service routine, Noah slid a folded piece of paper across the marble counter.

    The young woman unfolded the note with curiosity that quickly morphed into mortification.

    ’You almost got me robbed last time because you spoke too loudly. Could you please process the withdrawal of $20,000 without any noise? Thank you.’

    Jessica’s face cycled through multiple shades of red as she read. Her eyes widened with horror, then narrowed with what looked suspiciously like self-recrimination.

    "I’m so sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the bank’s ambient noise. "I had no idea—I never thought—"

    Noah waved off her apology with what he hoped was magnanimous understanding.

    At least she learned.

    But instead of processing the withdrawal, Jessica stood abruptly and stepped away from her terminal. She whispered something urgent to her colleague—an older woman with silver hair and the bearing of someone who’d seen every possible banking catastrophe.

    Uh oh. This doesn’t look like a normal routine.

    Jessica returned with an apologetic smile that somehow made Noah more nervous than her previous volume issues.

    "Could you please follow me?" she asked, gesturing toward a corridor lined with glass doors.

    She is leading me towards a private consultation. This is either very good or very bad.

    The office she led him to had a mahogany desk, leather chairs, and enough diplomas on the wall to stock a small university. A middle-aged man in an expensive suit rose as they entered, his smile professional but warm.

    "Mr. Carter? I’m David Richardson, branch manager." His handshake was firm without being aggressive.

    "Please, have a seat."

    Richardson. That name sounds familiar. Wasn’t that Uncle Smith’s feng shui-obsessed director?

    "Jessica explained the situation," Richardson continued, settling behind his desk with a smile on his face. "Large cash withdrawals require additional security protocols, particularly given your... previous experience that we deeply apologise for."

    Previous experience. That’s one way to describe almost getting mugged.

    "We need to confirm a few things," Richardson’s tone remained friendly but carried underlying seriousness. "First, this withdrawal is entirely voluntary? No one is threatening or coercing you?"

    They think I’m being extorted. That’s... actually pretty reasonable.

    "Completely voluntary," Noah assured him. "Just settling some old debts."

    Richardson nodded. "You’re comfortable carrying this amount in cash?"

    Am I? Twenty thousand dollars is a lot of money to walk around with.

    "I have secure transportation arranged," Noah said, thinking of the Driver currently listening to true crime podcasts in the parking lot.

    "Very good." Richardson smiled genuinely for the first time. "Jessica will process everything in our secure counting room. For your safety, we’ll provide discrete packaging and escort you to your vehicle."

    They’re actually trying to keep me from getting robbed.

    "Thank you," Noah nodded.

    Twenty minutes later, Noah emerged from the bank with a black leather briefcase that felt heavier than it should. A security guard—built like a linebacker with a friendly demeanour—walked beside him until he reached the waiting Uber.

    Professional, discreet, and no one announced my financial status to the entire lobby.

    As the car pulled away from the bank, Noah let out a satisfied sigh.

    The briefcase sat innocuously beside him, containing enough cash to solve every debt problem that had plagued him for years.

    He didn’t worry about the driver robbing him either, because he didn’t drop off at the bank, but slightly before.

    Time to have some very satisfying conversations with some very unpleasant people.