Peter lay on his bed, arms stretched out, staring blankly at the ceiling of his room—the same room from fifteen years ago.
"Fifteen years."
He was starting to accept it now.
"This is real."
"All of it."
"I died."
"And then… I regressed."
His fingers curled into fists.
"Carlos Cox."
"That bastard!"
That smirk, those mocking words—it all burned in his mind like a brand.
"But Carlos isn't the only one."
"No, before Carlos, there was him."
"Edward Wallace."
That name alone made his blood boil.
Peter had been so damn hopeful back then.
When he landed a data analyst internship at the Wallace Group, he thought it was his big break, the turning point in his life.
Everyone knew that working there as a graduate was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
He had been set.
Or so he thought.
But then— Lorenza Industries entered the picture.
Peter let out a slow, bitter exhale.
'God, what kind of idiot have I been?'
It had started with a simple exchange program.
A brief exchange between companies—one that shouldn't have mattered.
Except, Peter— the idiot that he was— had accidentally decoded an ancient, forgotten language—one that Lorenza Industries had been desperately trying to crack for years.
He hadn't even realized the significance of what he had done.
Not at first.
But Edward Wallace had.
That bastard saw the opportunity immediately.
Instead of letting Peter take credit, instead of allowing him to join Lorenza Industries where he would have actually been rewarded for his work, Edward stole it all.
Peter's eyes burned as the memories came flooding back, clearer than ever.
Edward refused to let him leave Wallace Group.
Instead, the bastard cut a deal with Lorenza Industries—using Peter's skills as leverage.
And just like that, the Green Stone Project was born.
It started as nothing. Just another overhyped initiative.
But thanks to his breakthroughs, his research, his expertise in the forgotten language—
—It became the Wallace Group's biggest goldmine.
The company raked in millions. The project flourished.
Edward was hailed as a visionary.
And Peter?
He was shoved aside, thrown a measly title as a "researcher," while Edward sat in the spotlight, basking in Peter's achievements.
His breaths came sharp and ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly as memories surged through Peter's head like a crashing tide.
'Carlos Cox… he always wanted Elena.'
'And Edward—he needed a partnership with Cox Enterprise to solidify Wallace Group's future.'
'But he couldn't afford to lose the Wallace Group's biggest cash cow… the Green Stone Project.'
'That's why he waited. That's why he didn't touch me all those years.'
'He needed me alive until the work was done.'
'And that's why he kept me around, like a dog on a leash.'
Peter's eyes narrowed, burning with hatred.
'The moment that ancient artifact was decrypted and that project ended—boom.'
'They all turned on me.'
'Edward pocketed the glory, the money, the legacy—and then fed me to Carlos like I was trash.'
A bitter laugh escaped him.
"Of course."
"Of course, it all worked out perfectly… for them."
"Carlos got the girl. Edward got his deal."
"And I?"
"I got screwed by Elena."
His fists trembled as his nails dug into his palms.
'Why… why did I come back to this exact moment?'
'Why not earlier—before the internship even started?!'
His breath caught. He was right at the edge.
This was the time he had just begun working at Wallace Group.
Peter sat up sharply, sinking his face into his hands.
"Screw it."
"It doesn't matter anymore," he muttered to himself.
"I'm here now. And this time...."
His voice turned cold. "I'm going to burn Wallace Group to the ground… and Carlos Cox?"
A wicked smirk played on his lips.
"That bastard's going to wish I stayed dead."
But first—he needed to know exactly where in time he was.
What he could leverage.
He grabbed a pen and paper, scouring his surroundings, his wallet, the closet, bank letters, his old laptop—anything that would help him piece together the timeline.
After about an hour of intense calculations, he leaned back in the creaky chair, his eyes shutting tight.
And just like that—his mind opened.
The room faded as translucent information began to overlay in his vision.
Assets.
Debts.
Monthly logs.
A perfect reconstruction of his financial data.
It wasn't a system.
No blinking notifications.
No magical interface. It was him—his mind, sharpened to an edge with an IQ of 250.
Assets: — Cash: $250.
Liabilities: — Student Loan: $10,000.
Monthly Income: $600.
Monthly Expenses: $700.
Peter opened his eyes, exhaling through his nose.
"Damn. Was I always this broke?"
He stared at the numbers in the paper and muttered, "This second chance… it's not a gift."
"It's a test."
"Life just threw me back into the fire and said, 'Let's see what you'll do this time.'"
He touched his chin, deep in thought.
"In the past, … I always thought of starting my own business."
"Even something small. Something that was mine. Far away from Edward's place"
His brows twitched.
"… Wait a second."
The thought hit him like a jolt of lightning.
"I could become a businessman. Not just some cog in someone else's machine… but someone who owns the damn machine."
He immediately opened his old browser, fingers flying over the keyboard as he typed in names—Bluestacks, Stripe, Rivian, Paytm.
All just startups at this point in time.
Then—he paused.
A single word floated into his mind.
Bitcoin.
His heartbeat started to race.
"No way. No way, no way, no way—"
He typed it in.
His palms were sweating as he hit the search button and stared at the screen.
Bitcoin Price: $0.07.
Peter's entire body froze.
He felt like the breath had been punched out of him.
"…No. Freaking. Way."
His eyes widened.
He leaned closer to the screen, reading it again and again as if it would suddenly disappear.
He whispered, "If I buy just a few hundred dollars worth of this..."
He stumbled back from the chair, laughter bubbling up in his throat—half mad, half exhilarated.
His voice cracked with disbelief.
"I could become a billionaire."
Tring… Tring…
Suddenly, the old, familiar ringtone blared from the dusty phone on Peter's desk, snapping him out of his racing thoughts.
Slowly, Peter turned his head toward the vibrating phone.
The screen lit up in soft blue, and when he read the name on the caller ID, his breath caught in his throat.
"Elena Wallace."
His heartbeat quickened.
A thousand memories came crashing down all at once—her voice, her laughter, the subtle lies, the betrayals, the way she smiled at Carlos while pretending Peter meant something.
'Why is she calling me now?' he thought, staring at the screen like it was a bomb about to go off.
'I haven't spoken to her at this point in time, have I?'
'Not yet.'
'This is before everything.'
'Before the internship, before Carlos, before the manipulation.'
"… Is this the beginning?" he muttered under his breath.
His thumb hovered over the answer button, hesitation tightening in his chest.
The phone kept buzzing.
Tring… Tring… Tring…
Peter took a deep breath—and answered.
"…Hello?"