The sound of the ocean murmured softly in the background as Eric reached out to receive the payment. The tourist—a blonde woman with light eyes and a warm smile—handed him a few gleaming coins while holding her freshly bought ice cream. He glanced at the small pieces of metal resting in his palm—euros, round, cold, and completely ordinary. Just another transaction in a day like any other.
With a tired sigh, Eric dropped the coins into the register.
He was a young man with plain black hair, nothing about him particularly noticeable in a crowd. But anyone who looked a little closer would see it in his eyes—just as dark—carrying a deep exhaustion, the kind that weighed more than his shoulders could bear. His slightly wrinkled white shirt contrasted with black pants and the red cap of the convenience store uniform. A green apron completed the look, making him almost invisible among the cheerful tourists wandering the beachside area.
"Boss, I'm taking my break," he said, his voice low and drained.
"Twenty minutes. Not a second more," the manager replied, not even looking up from his phone.
Eric simply nodded and stepped outside.
The moment the salty air hit his face, he felt a small sense of relief, as if he could finally breathe away from the suffocating walls of the shop. He slipped off his shoes for a moment, letting the soft sand welcome him. Sitting down, he wrapped his arms around his knees and watched tourists running, laughing, posing for photos.
Women from different countries—tanned, beautiful, smiling…
The kind of people who belonged to a world completely out of his reach.
A normal guy. No money. No future.
And now… no college.
The thought tightened painfully in his chest. He had dropped out just days ago, when he finally realized he couldn't afford tuition anymore—or keep living away from home. The weight of that decision still crushed him.
He thought about what awaited him back in his small hometown: disappointed looks, whispered gossip, silent judgment.
The same words he had always heard echoed in his mind:
"He should've stayed here. People like us aren't meant to dream big."
Each memory burned hotter than the blazing afternoon sun.
And then something impossible happened.
A soft light began to form in the air, right in front of him.
Eric blinked several times, trying to convince himself it was just sunlight reflecting off the water. But the glow took shape, outlining itself into a faint rectangle… until it became a transparent screen floating just inches from his face.
Startled, he leaned back into the sand, his heart pounding.
Golden letters began writing themselves:
"Congratulations! You have been selected for the Midas System."
The screen pulsed brighter, as if celebrating its own existence. Eric swallowed hard.
"The Midas System allows you to exchange ordinary coins for gold coins of equal weight."
Another line appeared:
"Do you accept becoming part of the Midas System? Warning: acceptance requires officially authentic currency."
Eric's heart seemed to freeze.
He looked around in panic.
Families, couples, tourists playing in the water… no one reacted. No one noticed anything unusual. It was as if the screen didn't exist for anyone but him.
"This has to be… a prank. Or I've finally lost it," he muttered, a chill running down his spine.
But the screen remained.
Still. Waiting.
Eric felt a cold sensation crawl up his back as he remembered the three coins in his pocket—the change he had forgotten to put in the register during the rush.
With a trembling hand, he tapped "Accept."
Instantly, a burst of light enveloped the coins in his pocket.
Eric flinched, unsure whether to scream or run.
A small golden flame flickered near his waist, spinning like a tiny vortex. The light condensed, spinning faster, until—like liquid gold—it formed into a single coin that dropped into his hand.
A gold coin.
Pure.
Heavy.
Hypnotic.
The world around him seemed to fade. The sound of the ocean grew distant, muffled. The laughter of tourists turned into faint echoes.
All that existed in that moment was the coin, gleaming under the sun—so real, so radiant, as if it had been pulled from an ancient treasure.
"Is this… real?" Eric whispered, unable to believe it.
Was it truly gold?
Or just another trick of his exhausted, overwhelmed mind?
He turned the coin between his fingers, feeling its unmistakable weight, its cold surface, its shine that refused to dim—even in the shadow of his own hand.
"What's happening to me…?" he murmured.
But he didn't have time to think.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
His break had been over for a while.
"Shit!" he cursed, jumping to his feet so fast he nearly stumbled.
He shoved the coin into his pocket and ran across the hot sand. When he reached the entrance of the convenience store, still catching his breath, he found his boss standing there with arms crossed and a very unfriendly expression.
"Eric," the manager said, pointing at the clock on the wall, "you are VERY late."
Eric swallowed hard.
The world still felt slow, like he was caught between before and after that golden light.
He had no idea how to respond.
How to act.
How to go back to normal.
And deep in his pocket, the small coin seemed to pulse—
A silent reminder that something extraordinary…
And completely impossible…
Had just begun.