Skill Book Broker: From F-Rank to Tycoon

Chapter 13

Adam leaned against the glass screen of his small balcony, looking out over the city below. The glow of neon signs illuminated the streets and created reflections on the tall buildings. He was still haunted by the events of the past few days.

His mind wandered as he rehearsed his collaboration with The Awakened Society.

"He's F..." he whispered, the words bitter.

no system He was wrong, he was not a warrior. His skill set was not designed for combat. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that small talk could be an advantage. No one suspected that he was an F-grade, anonymity was the ultimate shield.

The stick he had taken from the other world lay in the corner of the room, its glow fading. Every time he looked, it was a mixture of excitement and fear. The value was a big hit, and this This has made the value worse

4,444 days later, Adamu was ready for the next step in his plan: finding a trading house.

He spent hours searching online forums and gathering information about the markets. There was no public bank. It was fully managed by the Bidar Society. Adam wanted something from the books, a place where the rarity of its goods provoked a disregard for its identity.

One name came up in his searches: Midnight Exchange.

An underground trading house, a secret place. Buyers and sellers operated under pseudonyms, and the exchange itself was conducted by request only.

Adam leaned back in his chair, rubbing his palms. "It's great. A welcoming club for the rich and powerful. Just what I needed."

But he wasn't without a choice.

That evening, Adam returned to the market downstairs. He approached one The merchant he worked for, an old man with what looked like a leather case he kept in his hand.

"I need information," Adam said.

The merchant raised an eyebrow. "It depends on your question."

"Talk at midnight. How do I get in?"

The man who had been dumped, his eyes froze. "The bad ground you're treading on, boy. What makes you think you've reached that." stage?"

Adam's gaze remained fixed. "It's my job. Can you help or not?"

The merchant sighed, picking up the stones. "There's a gatekeeper there. He checks all new people. You must prove your worth—show that you have a valuable commodity to sell."

Adam pointed to the staff hidden under his cloak. "That should be enough. "

The pimp laughed, a low, sharp sound. "You're welcome. I'm setting up a meeting. Get ready."

There are 4,444 male gatekeepers in it In the late forties, in a cream dress that screams wealth and influence. He met Adam in a private room in a nondescript cafe, he didn't ask.

Adam unwrapped the stick, the man's eyes fixed on the stick. He reached out, his fingers running over the blade of the gun.

"That's great,"

muttered, his voice soft but with little authority. "Other origins of the universe, I suppose?"

Adam nodded but said nothing.

The man smiled. "You're welcome. In three days the Midnight Exchange will start. I'll send you the coordinates and login information."

When Adam returned to his dwelling, he sank into his seat, and the weight of his decision rested upon him. Midnight Exchange was a chance for him to introduce worldly goods to the mainstream, a chance to secure his place in a market no one else could touch.

But the problem was amazing. One mistake, and he would reveal not only himself, but also the secret. Another world

He looked at the bright light in the corner, the light floating on the walls.

Adam whispered to himself, "This is the beginning."