Chapter 95: Some Minor Changes

Xavier’s desk was clean. He kept it that way out of clean habits from his previous life . The MacBook in its usual spot. The speaker in the corner that had played Juice WRLD on his first night in this body when everything was still new and strange and he wasn’t sure any of it was real. The wardrobe with the two Hartley suits hanging inside it. Pressed and ready. Alongside the campus clothes he’d arrived with four months ago that hadn’t been touched in weeks. He kept it as an ornament.

Same room, he thought. Same four walls.

He dropped his bag on the bed and sat beside it.

Why don’t I just move, he thought. Properly move. A serviced apartment in the commercial district. Something that matches the balance sheet and doesn’t require explaining the Panamera to neighbours through a window.

He sat with that thought for a moment.

Then thought about Mama Elizabeth.

She’s been here every morning, he thought. Food by the door without being asked. Pleasantries in the corridor. The window expression when the Panamera appeared in the car park. He looked at the door. Not that I need looking after. I stopped needing looking after before I reincarnated. He paused. But still...

He stood up and started rearranging.

Not a full restructure. Just the particular rearranging that happened when you’d been in a space long enough to know exactly what was wrong with it and had finally accumulated enough irritation to do something about it.

The desk moved two feet to the left. Better light from the window. He’d known it would be better there since the second week and hadn’t bothered until now. The shelf above it that he’d been meaning to reorganise since he bought it got reorganised properly. Books on one end, practical items in the middle, the space on the right kept deliberately clear because cluttered surfaces made him think less clearly and he’d learned that about himself in the previous life too late to do anything about it.

The wardrobe last. The Hartley suits moved to the left side with proper spacing between them. The campus clothes compressed to the right. He kept them for days when showing up to Hale & Associates wasn’t on the schedule and he didn’t want to put unnecessary miles on the suits.

He stood back and looked at it.

Better, he thought. Not perfect. Significantly better.

He sat at the newly positioned desk and opened his MacBook.

Checked his balance.

$4,569,014.

He looked at that number for a moment.

Four and a half million, he thought. In a hostel room two blocks from a university where I’m technically enrolled in Food and Nutrition.

He opened his banking app.

Then stopped.

Wait, he thought.

He sat up straighter.

Rent, he thought. I haven’t paid Mama Elizabeth rent since I arrived.

He scrolled back through four months of transaction history. Donations, acquisitions, clothing, the Panamera, restaurants, cab rides, hotel rooms, the Hartley suits, the research trust — everything accounted for, everything rebated.

Not a single rent payment.

Four months, he thought. She’s been feeding me, keeping an eye on the building, waving at me from windows, handing me covered plates in corridors every morning regardless of what time I came home the night before. He looked at the door. And I haven’t paid her once.

And she never said a word, he thought. Not once. Never brought it up. Never left a note. Never gave me the look that was specifically about money rather than about the car or the suit or the hours.

Just kept putting food by the door.

He sat with that for a long moment.

She assumed I’d arrived with nothing, he thought. My parents arranged the room and left and she looked at me on day one and made a decision about what kind of situation she was dealing with and just... let it go. Kept feeding me anyway.

He opened the banking app properly this time.

Found the hostel account details from the original arrangement. Looked at the monthly rate.

$400 a month, he noted. Four months. $1,600 total owed.

He almost smiled.

$1,600, he thought. From a man sitting on four and a half million.

He transferred $5,000. Not the $1,600 owed. Five thousand. The extra for four months of breakfast, lunch on the days she’d left food twice, whatever his irregular hours had cost her in terms of sleep and peace of mind, and the general tax of having someone in the building whose car didn’t match the aesthetics.

[ REBATE SYSTEM ]

Transaction Detected: $5,000 spent on hostel rent and arrears

Base Multiplier (Tier 2): 2x

Total Return: $10,000

[ Net Balance: $4,564,014.00 → $4,574,014.00 ]

He closed the app and leaned back.

The system just rebated my rent, he thought.

He glanced at the ceiling.

What an healthy life, he thought.

He looked around the repositioned room. The better light from the window. The organised shelf. The suits with proper breathing room.

I could move, his previous thoughts resurfaced again. To a serviced apartment at the commercial district. Something that makes actual sense at this balance level. He looked at the door. But might as well stick for a while...

Not yet, he decided. Hang around a while longer. See how it goes.

He pulled up Vincent’s latest email. The fourth and fifth acquisition overviews had arrived that morning while he’d been driving Selene back to the office. He opened both documents and started reading.

Two more targets, he thought. Both rated A on the USB list. Both small. Both exactly what the chain needs next.

He was twenty minutes into the review when the knock came.

He opened the door.

Mama Elizabeth. Covered plate. The usual expression. Warm, unhurried, completely unbothered by the hour.

But this time she looked at him with something extra in it. The look of someone who had received an unexpected bank notification and was deciding how to address it without making it a thing.

"You sent me money?," she asked.

"I should have paid sooner," he said.

"And you even sent extra bless you son looks like your new business is booming and I hope it will continue doing so" she spoke with unrivaled joy in her tone.

She looked at him for a moment. Then past him in the room. She could see the repositioned desk from the doorway, the reorganised shelf, the general evidence of someone who had finally dealt with something they’d been putting off.

"You moved the desk," she said.

"Better light," he said.

She nodded once. The particular nod of someone who approved of things being arranged correctly without feeling the need to say so at length.

"You’re still too thin," she said. And held out the plate.

Xavier took it.

"Thank you ma," he said.

She turned and walked back down the corridor without further commentary. Her door closed quietly.

Xavier stood in the doorway holding the covered plate and looked at the empty corridor.

Not moving, he thought. Definitely not yet.

He went back inside. Sat at the newly positioned desk. Uncovered the plate.

$4,574,014, he thought. Two more acquisitions to review. Asset Rebound from the food distribution company landing tomorrow.

He ate and worked at the same time.

Everything moving, he thought.

Right on schedule.