Hugo's room was an explosion of chaos. He sprinted back and forth, flailing his arms like a madman, his voice ringing out with the kind of victorious screams usually reserved for lottery winners or soone who just escaped from a lion's den.
"I'm rich!" he hollered, his voice echoing through the small space. "I'm filthy, disgustingly rich!"
He skidded to a stop in front of his mirror, pointed at his reflection, and began what could only be described as the worst happy dance in history.
He bent his knees, wiggled his hips like a broken wind up toy, and flailed his arms like he was trying to wave down a plane.
"Look at now, world! I'm a money magnet!" He shuffled his feet awkwardly, almost tripping over a pair of socks on the floor. "Call Mr. Hugo Bezos! Or Hugo Musk!"
The sheer joy in his movents was almost infectious, except it was so ridiculous that anyone watching would've been too busy laughing to join in.
His face lit up like a Christmas tree, and he spun in a circle before collapsing onto his bed in a fit of giggles.
"I've never even had twenty grand before," he gasped between laughs, staring at the ceiling.
"Not when I was working for that gang, and not even when I ran off with that cash stash! And now… fifty freaking thousand!"
Fifty Thousand Dollars was a huge amount of money. It could change lives in the right hands...
He sat up suddenly, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Sanchez actually gave fifty grand. Sanchez! The sa guy who once refused to split a pizza bill because I ate one extra slice!"
Hugo shook his head in awe. "I an, sure, he's offered to help out a million tis before, but I always said no. Man pride and all that." He puffed out his chest in mock seriousness. "A real man doesn't take handouts!"
But the thought of Sanchez being so generous made him pause. "Wait a minute," he muttered, narrowing his eyes. "How is Sanchez this rich? Does he secretly own a casino? Is he part of so underground billionaire club? Don't tell being a music producer is that profitable?"
He didn't have ti to dwell on it because his brain had already moved on to more pressing matters—how to blow this money in the most outrageous ways possible.
Hugo was going to shake this city!
But first, he had to say thanks. He spent the next 20 minutes writing a 2000 words thank you ssage complete with a prologue and epilogue.
He put his blood and sweat into the letter before hitting send when he was satisfied with the amount of emotional throwbacks inside it.
Back to the 'problem' at hand.
"I could finally rent out a water park for a day," he whispered, his voice tinged with awe. "Or buy one of those inflatable T-Rex costus and just walk around town freaking people out. Or…"
He gasped dramatically. "I could pay soone to follow around with the music like in those action movies!"
Hugo bolted to his desk, grabbed his laptop, and started typing furiously. His search history was instantly flooded with everything from private jet rentals to custom gold plated socks.
He even tried to book a table at a five-star restaurant with a six-month waiting list.
But just as he was about to click "Confirm" on a reservation for a rooftop hot tub party, he froze.
His finger hovered over the mouse, trembling slightly. "Wait… Hugo, no," he muttered to himself, his voice stern. "This is exactly how people end up broke again in two days!"
He sat back in his chair, closed his eyes, and began muttering under his breath. "Impulse is the enemy. Impulse is the devil. Breathe in, breathe out. Spend wisely, live richly."
He repeated this mantra several tis, his hands pressed together as if he were praying to the gods of financial stability.
At one point, he even started chanting sothing that sounded suspiciously like the lyrics to an old boy band song. "I don't want it that way… tell why… no reckless buys!"
After twenty agonising minutes, he finally cald down, though his legs still vibrated like he had too much caffeine in his system.
He couldn't help it. Having so much money so suddenly was making his body tremble with excitent and disbelief.
"Okay, Hugo," he said, taking a deep breath. "You're a grown man. You can handle this. Think rationally. Don't blow it all at once."
His expression shifted, growing more serious as a spark of realisation lit up in his eyes. "I can't waste this money. Not all of it, anyway. I need to invest. I need to make this fifty grand grow into five hundred grand."
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He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "But I also need to spend a little on myself. Sothing that'll boost my status stat. Sothing that'll help complete this insane death mission. Getting top girls would rely heavily on a high social status stat."
He grabbed a notepad and pen, jotting down ideas like a man possessed. "Option one: a car. A flashy ride would definitely up my status. Plus, girls love cars, right? But do I still have a license? Minor detail."
He scribbled furiously. "Option two: designer clothes. Nothing screams 'I'm successful' like wearing a watch that costs more than soone's rent. But then again, do I really want to be the guy who spends five grand on a pair of shoes? Roots to riches?"
He tapped the pen against his chin, his eyes narrowing. "Option three: a high-tech gadget. Like a phone that can make holograms or a laptop that folds into a jetpack. Okay, maybe that's pushing it, but still, gadgets are cool."
He stared at the list, weighing the pros and cons of each option. His mind whirred with possibilities, excitent bubbling under the surface.
He would have to spend wisely, yet it had to have a huge effect, what would it be?
But just as he was about to co to a decision, he froze, his pen hovering above the paper.
To be continued…
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Power stone Goal!
50 PS - 1 Bonus chapter
100 PS - 2 Bonus chapter
200 PS (Quite an achievent as of now) - 3 Bonus chapters.
Castle - 20 Bonus Chapters!
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