Jake woke before his alarm.
For a few seconds, he lay still in the half-dark, staring at the ceiling as the last fragments of sleep faded. Then awareness settled in fully.
Monday.
Markets open.
School resumes.
Routine returns.
He sat up slowly, letting his feet touch the cool floor. His left eye felt normal—no pressure, no sharpness. Just ordinary sight. That alone told him the clarity hadn't activated yet.
It never did until he sat in front of the charts.
Jake went through his morning routine without rushing. Shower. Simple breakfast. A quick check of his phone—not social media, not messages. Only his trading account.
Balance: 4,688 VM
The number remained steady from Friday's loss.
He studied it for a moment.
Still enough.
More than enough to grow—if he stayed disciplined.
He locked the phone and slid it into his pocket just as his mother called from the kitchen.
"Jake, you're going back today, right?"
"Yeah."
She stepped into view holding a lunch container. "Then take this. You've been living off snacks and caffeine for too long."
He accepted it without argument. "Thanks."
His father sat at the small dining table scanning through printed documents—bills, most likely. He looked up briefly.
"Don't strain your eye," he said. "If lectures get too much, come home. It may be your final year but you still Need to take care of yourself."
"I will, mom." He said smilin.
They didn't press him further. They trusted him enough not to hover, but Jake could still feel the underlying worry in the room. Hospital bills. Household expenses. The quiet strain of maintaining stability.
It settled into him like a weight.
Not suffocating.
Just… motivating.
---
Aurelia City University looked exactly the same as it always did.
Wide campus roads. Tall glass lecture buildings. Students moving in clusters with backpacks and coffee cups. Laughter, complaints, hurried footsteps—life continuing without pause.
Jake stepped through the main entrance with calm, measured strides.
No one paid him special attention.
He preferred it that way.
His first lecture began in an hour, but he headed straight for a quiet study hall instead. A long room lined with desks and charging stations, mostly empty at this hour.
Perfect.
He chose a corner seat near a window and opened his laptop.
Gold chart.
The moment it loaded—
The shift returned.
It was immediate and unmistakable. The world of numbers and candles sharpened into clarity so precise it almost felt intrusive. His left eye pulsed faintly, a quiet signal that the window had opened.
Jake exhaled slowly through his nose.
*One hour.*
He logged into his live account.
Balance: 4,688 VM
No hesitation this time. No nerves. Only focus.
The market was still settling into its weekly rhythm—early movements, false pushes, liquidity grabs. Jake watched patiently, ignoring the urge to enter too soon. His previous loss remained fresh in memory, not as fear but as instruction.
Execution first. Prediction second.
There.
A false breakout above resistance. Liquidity taken. Momentum weakening.
He waited.
Another candle formed, confirming exhaustion.
Now.
Jake entered.
Two positions. Slightly wider stop. Smaller size than Friday—intentional. This wasn't about speed. It was about precision.
Price hovered for a moment.
Then began to fall.
+6 pips.
+14.
+22.
He didn't move. Didn't adjust prematurely. Let the trade breathe.
A small retracement came—normal, expected. It dipped halfway back toward his entry before continuing downward with steady pressure.
+35.
+48.
+63.
Jake closed one position. Locked partial profit.
Let the second run.
Minutes later, momentum accelerated sharply.
He exited cleanly.
*Profit: +1,104 VM*
Jake sat back.
No smile. No celebration. Just a quiet acknowledgement.
Execution: correct.
Emotion: stable.
Process: improving.
He glanced at the clock.
Forty minutes remained.
---
By the time his clarity window closed, Jake had executed three trades.
All clean. All disciplined. No overtrading. No emotional entries.
When the sharpness faded from his perception, he closed the platform immediately.
Session complete.
Total profit for the morning:
*+3,870 VM*
New balance: 8,558 VM
He stared at the number briefly.
Not life-changing.
Not yet.
But it was progress built on control—not luck.
And that made it sustainable.
---
"Oi."
Jake looked up from his screen.
Alex stood a few desks away holding two cups of coffee, one eyebrow raised. "You planning to live here now?"
Jake closed his laptop calmly. "Just getting back into rhythm."
Alex walked over and dropped into the chair opposite him, sliding one coffee across the table. "You missed a lot. Professor nearly buried us in assignments."
Jake accepted the cup. "I'll catch up."
Alex studied him again, same way he had on Sunday. "You seriously seem different. Did the hospital give you some enlightenment or something?"
Jake took a sip before answering. "Something like that."
Alex snorted. "Man, if enlightenment makes people this calm, I need to get hit in the head too."
Jake didn't respond.
He just watched the steam rise from the cup for a moment, thoughts already moving ahead—next session, next trade, next step.
---
Later that afternoon, between lectures, Jake checked his account again.
Still there. Still real.
8,558 VM.
He closed the app and slipped his phone back into his pocket and let out a heavy sigh.
For the first time in a long while, the path ahead didn't feel uncertain.
It felt… structured.
Predictable.
As if he'd finally found a system that worked.
But as Jake stepped out into the crowded campus walkway, he also felt something else—something subtle.
A shift in attention.
Across the courtyard, a group of business students stood near the finance building. Well-dressed. Loud. Confident in the careless way people were when money had always been within reach.
One of them glanced in Jake's direction briefly.
Then looked again.
Not recognition.
Assessment.
Jake met the gaze for half a second before walking past without reaction.
___