Chapter 64

All I wanted was to quietly and peacefully leave this orphanage. I didn’t provoke fights, didn’t make noise, didn’t speak—in short, I did everything to avoid drawing attention to myself. I despised those idiots for their stupidity and lack of ambition, for their desire to destroy anything better than them or beyond their comprehension… I kept silent, and eventually, I was transferred to another sector of the orphanage, where things seemed to be going well at first.

But no—there were always bastards who couldn’t leave well enough alone. They came up with the idea of slipping me aptitude tests to assess my knowledge in various fields. I had deliberately failed my final-year modules to avoid attracting attention. For the last couple of months, I’d been looking for ways to get myself transferred to a private orphanage on Arpe. If I had passed the basic education exams, they wouldn’t have let me go, arguing that the station needed a promising citizen. There was a law that allowed Vaalsi to deny my transfer request.

That was the only reason I held back and didn’t reveal my intellectual abilities. The quality of my thinking had drastically improved after acquiring parallel thought streams. Even when working with just two streams processing external data, the multiplicative effect was significant. Without risking my health, I could manage up to four streams—any more would cause overload and internal bleeding. The rest of the streams worked internally, running calculations for my plans and objectives. It had taken me two months to adapt to this new cognitive process. Now, I surpassed an average person intellectually, but I didn’t want unnecessary attention—because then, everyone would try to use me. Even with controlled parallel processing, there was still some strain on my health, though manageable.

And now, I had to accelerate my plans. Vaalsi had learned from Eliza that I’d been gathering information about shipbuilding, and now he’d be keeping a closer eye on his "golden goose"—me, the kid for whom he received special budget allocations.

I had free time until the end of the day, no punishments pending, so I could focus on freeing myself from their guardianship. What I had planned to do in a year, I now had to start immediately.

For the past two months, I’d been collecting information on how to escape Vaalsi and Eliza’s oversight. I needed a guardian I could control—someone who would let me refuse any requests for information about me or my affairs. Even Eliza, with all her restrictions, could be denied if I had legal backing. To achieve this, I had to create my own private orphanage for "gifted children." It sounded insane, but it was the only way to trigger the protocol for transferring children to "an orphanage with better conditions for their development, for the benefit of humanity." This practice had been common among space colonies—the state provided every opportunity for promising citizens to thrive. As an orphan with no basic education, I was considered worthless to the colony, making me eligible for transfer under another state’s guardianship. Officially, I was dead weight they could discard.

I had to sneak into other sectors of the station and gather information through public terminals—the same capsules, just for general use. All the data I collected was stored on anonymous accounts. I already had an untraceable account, but it was empty—the money had gone into small bribes in the virtual space.

I needed a lot of funds to pull this off. Real estate on Arpe was far more expensive than in our colony, and I didn’t just need a room for a child—I needed a small building, fake administrators, and other kids as cover. The plan was ready; I just had to execute it. I’d found a man on Arpe—Malcolm Schultz—who would handle everything in "my name."

The best thing about anonymous accounts was the ability to choose any avatar in virtual space. To everyone in the Virt, I was a man in his mid-forties—balding, wearing a sharp business suit and round glasses, with the sharp features of an intellectual. The background completed the image: a successful Lunar businessman. And here was my contact.

"Hello, Malcolm."

"Good day, Mr. Bork."

My persona was David Bork, a Lunar expat. That identity opened doors regular citizens couldn’t access.

"What progress have you made? Any issues?"

"None. We’ve secured approval for the gifted children’s orphanage. Our arguments convinced the government to grant subsidies and a discount on the building. Your name won’t appear in any official records. Staffing won’t be a problem once we have the funds. We just need a list of promising children—yours will be included. Two outstanding issues remain: first, the money—seven million credits. A substantial sum, I know. Second, the child registry—we’ll gain access once the facility is ready."

"Understood. The full amount will be transferred in six months. By then, everything else must be settled. Within two weeks of receiving payment, the orphanage must be operational—including the finalized child list, which we’ll discuss separately."

"Agreed. That’s feasible."

"How many children will reside there?"

"Fifty—the legal minimum."

"Who’s the director? And what’s the monthly upkeep?"

"My brother, Karl. He has the credentials. Monthly costs: fifty thousand credits—covering staff and operations. Extras will be negotiated separately. I’ll handle finances as the consultant."

"Good. I’ll take my leave now."

"Goodbye, Mr. Bork."

I was the "protegé" I wanted to protect. But I’d need another child as a decoy to avoid suspicion from Malcolm and Karl. My real name would be on the main intake list.

Maintaining the persona of a middle-aged man was exhausting—gestures, tone, speech patterns. I’d spent a week practicing debates to perfect the act. These aptitude tests, Eliza’s scrutiny, Vaalsi’s interference—all terrible timing. Malcolm was a sly bastard, angling for a cushy job at the orphanage’s expense. But for now, I needed him to escape this mess.

Money wouldn’t be an issue. I could convert in-game currency at a 1:2 ratio—one gold piece for half a credit. Chrysalida welcomed cash flow and didn’t report player transactions to external entities. Lunar strictly monitored in-game economies for money laundering, though.

Last month, I’d earned 250,000 gold—125,000 credits. To meet Malcolm’s deadline, I needed twenty times that. Time to find serious income sources—grinding mobs wouldn’t cut it.

The biggest payout in the game came from a dragon slain by a 2,000-player raid. Its loot was worth seven million gold. Hmm. Looks like two dragons were about to go extinct. Now, how do you kill a creature 1,200 levels above you, with near-immunity to damage?