I created the account on the black market using the same name.
Mr. Fool.
No embellishments. No promises.
Just a short description and a price.
₹1,000 per purchase.
That was it.
I closed the laptop and went to sleep.
No anticipation. No excitement.
If it worked, it worked.
The next day passed like any other.
Classes.
Casual conversations.
Dinner with my dorm mates.
Nothing out of place.
Only at night did I open my laptop again.
I logged in.
And froze.
100 purchases.
I checked again, thinking it was an error.
It wasn't.
After platform deductions, the wallet balance stood at ₹90,000.
For a few seconds, I simply stared at the screen.
I hadn't marketed it.
I hadn't promoted it.
I hadn't even stayed online.
And yet—
I closed the wallet without withdrawing a single rupee.
Moving money too fast was how people got noticed.
Instead, I leaned back and started thinking.
This wasn't luck.
This was demand.
While I was planning my next step, something else was happening—far from my dorm room.
The game company had already purchased the cheat.
Their senior engineers pulled it apart line by line.
Analyzed memory calls.
Monitored packet behavior.
Tracked server-side anomalies.
Nothing.
The cheat didn't trigger alerts.
It didn't touch protected memory.
It didn't behave like a cheat at all.
From the server's perspective, everything was… normal.
They couldn't decode it.
They couldn't block it.
They couldn't even confirm it existed.
And that unsettled them more than any obvious exploit ever could.
Back in my room, I closed my laptop and smiled faintly.
The money could wait.
For now, I needed something more important.
A system.