Chapter 16: Karmic Exchange

I continued playing around with the nickel in my hand before decisively setting it down onto the table with a resounding clack in my otherwise silent apartment.

Quickly, I made my way back downstairs to the alley, retrieving that brilliant tube of 40 silver coins and taking my little hidey-hole rock with me. Setting the fake rock aside, I cracked open the tube of pristine silver eagles and ruthlessly turned it over, letting the coins clatter out onto the coffee table.

Nest egg? Not anymore. These coins are going to make me a lot of money! Picking up one of the coins I'd spilled onto the carpet, I admired it briefly before closing my eyes in intense focus.

I thought to myself, Silver is worth $30 an ounce right now, but that doesn't mean that's what this coin costs. Places don't sell silver coins for spot price; they sell with a premium—and tax. The last time I bought one of these, generic coins were $2.50 over spot, while government-issued coins were $4.50 over spot.

Silver is silver, but some people are willing to pay a bit more for that government guarantee. On the other hand, if you try to sell at a pawn shop, they couldn't care less; you'd get back $2 under spot, no matter the coin. That's why most people prefer to sell privately unless they're desperate—at least privately, they can reclaim some of the premium.

But selling privately is a hassle. Where do you meet? Is the money real? Will they try to rob you? More often than not, people flake or try to lowball at the last minute, wasting your time. Even with the premium and tax, a lot of people buy from local coin shops just to avoid the headache.

That's life, really—a balancing act to get what you want and minimize what you don't. There's a saying for that: You can have it fast, good, or cheap, but you can only pick two.

If it's fast and good, it won't be cheap. If it's fast and cheap, it won't be good. So on and so forth. But I think I just found a little life hack to shatter this saying once and for all!

Somebody wants a silver eagle and is willing to pay store prices. So, concentrate: a $30 coin, plus $4.50 premium, and then a 7.25% tax—$37 for my silver eagle… $37 for my silver eagle…

The mana trickled out of me at first, but then it began flooding away like a river turned into rapids. I nearly lost my concentration—why was it taking so much more energy than the can swap?

I could practically feel my core churning out energy, 10%, 20%, then finally 30% depleted. I was about to give up in frustration when I heard a pleasant "pop."

Frantically opening my eyes, I unclenched my fist to see a stack of crumpled bills had replaced my coin.

With shaking hands, I counted it: a twenty, a ten, a five, and two singles… $37 in exact change! I couldn't help but pump my fist in excitement. I flexed so hard it kind of hurt, gritting my teeth as I hissed, "Yes!"

I just turned a $30 silver coin into $37 cash money. I proved my theory: I could trade the coin for its true value in someone's eyes, someone willing to pay store prices for the convenience. And boy, talk about convenience—I wonder what their face looks like now that the money in their hand suddenly swapped for the silver eagle they wanted.

But whatever, let them think they hallucinated it. I have something far more important to do now. I'm not here to buy silver coins from private sellers at spot price. I'm a cultivator with a brand new spell, and I'm going to Exchange it.

The word Exchange practically reverberated in my mind as I said it to myself—this is real magic; this is what power feels like! Grabbing a twenty and a ten, I held the thirty dollars in my hand, thoughtfully setting the bills on the counter and gently resting my hand on them.

Preemptive practice for bigger and better things to come. After all, I can't possibly hold everything I want to swap in the future, right? Picturing the silver eagle I wanted in my mind, I imagined a seller, someone desperate for cash, down on their luck. Someone willing to sell it to a pawn store for a mere $28.

A strange thought came to me—karma. Somehow, I couldn't help but feel this exchange was connected to it. Like the swap of goods and money held an intrinsic value for both parties, bound by the shared desire for what each held. A "karmic exchange."

Pop.

Looking down at my hand, I couldn't help but smile at both my revelation—and the shining silver eagle sitting in my hand in place of the money. Wait—$30? Did that mean the whole pawn-store-price trick didn't work? It didn't feel like my spell misfired—it felt exactly as intended.

Is it because I didn't have exact change?

A realization dawned on me. Was this the universe's way of messing with me? It took a huge drain just to swap my coin for cash—maybe asking it to "make change" was too much.

Suddenly curious, I picked up the two dollars and concentrated. I pictured the bar down the street, the one close to my apartment, where I could buy a bottle of beer for $2.50. So $2 shouldn't work, right?

Sure enough, the energy began to flow but quickly faded—no connection. Reaching into my wallet, I pulled out another crisp dollar bill, added it to the stack, and tried again.

This time, the energy drain resumed and quickly took effect. Soon, faster than the coin swap, I heard that familiar pleasant "pop" and watched keenly as a beer appeared in place of the money—no change.

That settles it: it's one trade, and making change counts as a second trade. It makes sense—the money probably appeared wherever this ice-cold, dripping-wet beer came from. A cooler full of ice, if I had to guess. Casually flicking off the bottle top with practiced ease, I couldn't help but think how my most refined technique was "opening beer." Not exactly awe-inspiring like "piercing the heavens" or "cutting the firmament."

"Sometimes, I'm really glad I live alone," I muttered, taking a sip of the beer and setting it on the table.

This spell is definitely tied to value—and probably distance. The beer was cheaper, closer, and heavier than the silver or cash. It took less energy to swap, but still drained 20% of my reserves—so it doesn't just scale with price.

Things to keep in mind. But the important thing is, I just found my secret weapon. It might not be some heaven-defying attack, but it's definitely a moneymaker.

If only it wasn't so damn exhausting. I sighed. Hard work isn't my style—I'll have to game the system with this one.

But with financial matters settled and my cultivation improved, it's time to learn more about using this power. What better way than finding a teacher?

The more I learn, the more I realize how weak I am alone. That old man from the flea market had a good heart—night and day from that creepy old man who robbed me.

I've already taken my first few steps as a cultivator; now I just need some guidance. And maybe, once I get to know him better, I'll ask for his advice about the brooch.

I still wonder if it's haunted.