Henry didn't summon the Mora until he was alone.
He chose a quiet side street with a recessed doorway and slipped his hand into his pocket as if reaching for his keys. Mora appeared in his palm without a sound. It was perfectly round, too clean, with no scratches or wear to speak of—gold that had never been mined. It was said to have alchemic properties, but Henry had no idea what those might actually be.
Hmm. I'll ask Lisa if I'm able to travel back to Teyvat.
He closed his fingers around the coin and started walking.
The storefront looked legitimate enough, with glass windows, neutral signage, and a name that suggested commodities and metals without saying too much. Inside, the air smelled faintly of polish and machinery oil. Display cases lined one wall, holding ingots, coins, and sealed bars, each carefully tagged and catalogued. A counter separated the public space from the back.
The man behind it glanced up briefly, then returned to what he was weighing.
Henry waited.
When the man finally spoke, his voice professional.
"Looking to buy or sell?"
Henry placed the coin on the counter without a word.
The man's eyes flicked down and paused, not widening in surprise but sharpening with focus. He didn't ask where it came from. Instead, he put on gloves, picked the coin up, turned it once between his fingers, and reached for a box-like device on the counter
First he measured the weight, then the dimensions, then a quick scan using the device. The room stayed quiet throughout.
Slowly, the man set the device down. "Bloody hell."
He looked at Henry properly now, studying his face for a long moment. Then, without another word, he lifted the coin again and gestured toward a door behind the counter.
"Come with me to the private room, please."
The room beyond was small and clean. There were tables with different equipments meant for careful analysis.
Henry placed a large pouch on the table. The muted thump immediately drew the man's attention. He loosened the drawstring, and gold spilled out onto the table. The coins were identical, pristine, and flawless, catching the overhead light without a single blemish.
The man straightened, removed his gloves, and extended a hand.
"Daniel," he said. "I handle private commodities. If this proceeds the way I think it will, I can also offer private banking." He paused briefly. "I'll give you a number."
Henry shook his hand. "Henry."
Daniel slipped on a fresh pair of gloves and picked up one of the coins, running it through his equipment. He repeated the process with a second coin, then a third. As the readings came in, his movements slowed, and he checked the results again to make sure he hadn't made a mistake.
"This isn't just pure," he murmured, shaking his head slowly. "It's beyond refinery grade."
Henry exhaled softly, a faint smile touching his lips.
"That pure?"
Daniel stared at the coin, still visibly shaken. After a moment, he looked up again, disbelief clear in his eyes.
"It's unbelievable."
He turned the coin between his fingers examining it carefully again. "Impurity levels fell below detection limits. Estimated purity: greater than 99.9999%. I.. I've never seen numbers like this."
Daniel leaned back and began calculating. "Market gold runs about one hundred forty dollars per gram today. This quality is far beyond standard premium. "
"At this level of purity, you're looking at roughly three times market value—about four hundred and twenty $ per gram."
He tapped the calculator. "If each coin weighs ten grams. That makes it 4200 $ per coin."
Wanting to remain transparent, Daniel turned his monitor slightly and showed Henry the gold rate for the current hour.
He called in his assistants, who began analyzing each coin through the machine while another kept count.
Once they finished, a sheet was forwarded to Daniel, who showed it to Henry.
" One thousand coins. That's 4.2 million $."
Daniel met Henry's eyes. "I can give you two million in cash. The remainder can be wired to an offshore account. Do you already have one?"
Henry shook his head. "Not yet."
Daniel nodded once. "Then you will."
He turned away, pulled out a burner phone, and made a short call in a low voice, giving instructions and account details.
After a brief wait, his assistant entered and placed a folder on the table.
Daniel slid it toward Henry. "Read everything before you agree."
Henry went through the documents carefully, checking each line and page before closing the folder. "This works."
"And will you be bringing more?"
"Yes," Henry replied without hesitation.
Daniel studied him for a moment, then nodded with clear appreciation.
"You understand the scale of what you're dealing with."
"That's why I came to you."
Daniel unlocked the drawer and then the keyed safe, removed bundles of cash, and fed them into an automatic counter in full view of Henry. When the machine finished, he packed the money into a briefcase and slid it across the table.
"All above market," Daniel said. "The transaction is legal, but nothing goes public."
He placed a card on the table next—no logo, no name, only a number.
"You can call me anytime. Same terms. Thank you for choosing us."
Henry took the card, shook Daniel's hand firmly, and left the building.
From there, he headed straight to the location he had found earlier while browsing during his office break.
As he stepped into the café, the steady hum of activity greeted him, along with the smell of coffee and baked bread. Staff moved efficiently behind the counter, while a few customers lingered over their drinks.
A man approached him with a warm smile. "You must be Henry. I'm Alan. I saw your message—you're interested?"
Henry nodded. "Yes. I'm interested in taking over the café. I understand you're moving abroad."
Alan extended a hand. "That's right. I'm heading to Europe next month, but I wanted to make sure the place went to someone who would appreciate it."
He gave Henry a brief tour of the café and the kitchen. Henry liked what he saw and made it clear that he was ready to pay in full, in cash.
"Let me introduce you to Sarah," Alan said. "She manages everything day to day."
A young woman with red hair stepped forward, her movements carrying a hint of nervous energy. "Hi," she said quietly.
"Sarah, this is Henry. He's taking over," Alan said.
She exhaled, the tension visible on her face. "I—I hope this doesn't mean I'm losing my job."
Henry shook his head immediately. "Not at all. I'll be closing the café for a week for renovations, but after that, you'll still be running daily operations. You're staying."
Both Sarah and Alan stared as Henry opened his briefcase, opened it, and began counting bundled cash onto the table. Once he finished, he slid the money toward Alan.
Everything checked out. Henry read through the paperwork carefully, found no issues, and signed the agreement, officially making him the sole owner.
Alan clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll leave the rest in your capable hands. Enjoy the café—it's yours now."
With that, he left, leaving Henry and Sarah amid the warm bustle of the café.
Henry gestured toward a corner table. "Come sit. Let's go over the plans."
They reviewed renovation designs on a laptop, with Sarah outlining her ideas while Henry offered suggestions where needed. Together, they finalized paint colors, adjusted the furniture layout, and planned minor kitchen upgrades.
Once everything was decided, Henry pulled out his briefcase again, counting again and then and slid several bundles of cash across the table.
"Start immediately," he said. "Hire help if you need to, and handle the renovations. I'll check in."
Sarah picked up the cash, relief and excitement clear on her face. "Will do, boss," she said, already making notes.
Henry had a simple dinner there afterward. It wasn't anything special—just a quiet meal at the first business he owned. He sat longer than necessary, watching the street through the glass as the sky darkened.
On the way home, he stopped by a local supermarket and picked up a mix of things: soda, perfumes, a few bottles of wine he didn't plan to drink, power banks, tea bags, notebooks, and pens. The cashier gave him a confused look at the assortment, but Henry didn't care.
What a productive day.
By the time he got home, exhaustion had caught up with him, but there was still one thing he needed to test.
In the kitchen, he took a small knife and made a shallow cut along his skin. Blood welled briefly, then the wound sealed itself instantly, as if it had never been there.
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Power Stones Please :)
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