Ghost Billionaire
Chapter 58: A Flicker of Hope

Chapter 58: A Flicker of Hope

"Does she think I’m stupid?" Matthew muttered, pacing near his bed. "Like, I’m actually going to just eat some weird floating marble because she said it’s fine? Yeah, no thanks."

She’d vanished after that little exchange. Poof. Gone. Probably annoyed that he didn’t swallow her ghost wisdom pill like a good boy. Since then, he’d been left with the bare-bones crash course she was forced to rattle off before floating away.

Matthew looked down at the spirit stone in his hand.

"So I just... think about absorbing it, and it works?" he mumbled, turning the stone over between his fingers. "Just... absorb it. Right. I’d done it before, so it should be the same this time as well."

According to her, he’d already gone through what was apparently called an "awakening." Normally, it was something that happened to Nexian kids between sixteen and twenty-one.

Anyone who didn’t awaken by then? Sorry, but they would have to become a permanent benchwarmers for the rest of their life. Apparently, Nexians have unique DNA but it’s rare and some are simply not carriers, especially the ones born from one human parent.

This also meant that only someone with a Nexian parent had a chance of becoming one. That made Matthew pause. He had never met his mother or her side of the family, so he had no idea if she was a Nexian. As for his father, they were never close—he didn’t know much about him either.

Matthew sat on the edge of the bed, still staring at the stone. "Eighteen. I had awakened at the age of eighteen," he said under his breath. "She said that’s normal. Normal. As if anything about this week has been normal."

He rubbed his temple with one hand.

"So... headaches, hunger spikes, random strength boosts... that’s not power. That’s my body freaking out. Great. Fantastic. Apparently, I’m not built to handle being a Nexian. Not yet."

Apparently, the solution is quite simple. Exercise. Of course, it is. The Ghost Girl said all Nexians started physical training from childhood. Having a strong physical body is the key to a smooth, painless awakening.

He paused. Then frowned. "So... two to three months of prep, then I’ll hit the ’Initiate’ level... First level. Which means what? A little control. Some durability. Nothing fancy. And most Nexians? Ninety percent of them stay at that level forever. No upgrades. No power-ups. Just... stuck."

He scratched his head. "So basically, I’m a noob who’s not even at the first level yet, because I awakened on my own and didn’t have some powerful elder guiding me."

The ghost girl had emphasized how lucky he was to have even survived the awakening. She figured it was probably because his ability was just seeing ghosts. If he hadn’t been that lucky, if his ability had been something stronger, like enhanced strength or speed—he would’ve definitely died.

He glanced at the stone again.

"Alright," he muttered. "Let’s try it."

He closed his eyes and focused. No chants. No dramatic poses. Just thinking about absorbing it. The way she explained it. No weird incantations or hand gestures, either.

Matthew expected the worst. Some horror-fueled trip like his awakening, visions, voices, whatever that nightmare had been. But this... this was different.

The moment he focused, the spirit stone warmed in his palm. Not dramatically, just enough to notice. Then the heat flowed through his hand, traveled up his arm, and dropped straight into the pit of his stomach.

It landed hard.

He stiffened and focused on his body.

There it was, that Core she mentioned. Not physical, but he could feel it. Right at the center of his being. Something hollow and waiting. The energy from the stone poured into it like water into a cracked bowl, and instead of spilling out, it swirled.

It wasn’t painful.

It was... strange. Warm. Like someone had lit a fire inside him, but not burning. Just pressure. Expanding, shifting. Spreading.

Then he felt it—the blood.

It rose slowly, like a tide crawling up his throat. He coughed once, then again, and tasted iron. It wasn’t a lot at first. Just a trickle escaping his lips and sliding down his chin. The ghost girl had warned him about this part. "Don’t stop," she said. "Don’t panic. Just wait until the stone burns out."

So he stayed still. Let it happen.

The blood kept coming. His mouth felt slick. His shirt was damp. He could feel it soaking the collar.

Thirty seconds passed.

Then forty.

Then fifty.

He counted.

Still going.

Matthew’s hands started to tremble. He clenched his jaw, focusing on the warmth in his gut. "Almost there," he muttered, his voice thin.

The pressure didn’t fade.

One minute.

Still going.

That’s when he realized something was wrong. The ghost said it wouldn’t take long and that a minute should be enough. The stone should’ve dimmed by now. Instead, it kept glowing. Stronger. Brighter. His body felt like it was vibrating, the core inside him pulsing too fast.

His vision blurred.

Then, without warning, a violent wave hit his stomach. He doubled over and vomited.

Blood.

A lot.

He didn’t even have time to react. His balance tipped forward, and he fell face-first into the mess, his hands slipping in the pool beneath him. His head hit the side of his mattress on the way down. Not hard, but enough to knock the wind out of him.

His last thought before the blackout was clear: That damn ghost girl! From now on, he would never believe anything she would tell him!

As if mocking him, a sudden pain made his body shake. He cursed inwardly.

Then everything went dark.

After what felt like forever, Matthew’s eyes snapped open.

The room was dim, lit only by the bedside lamp he didn’t remember turning on. The air was heavy, and sharp with the metallic scent of iron. He sat up slowly, head pounding, and looked down at the floor.

Blood.

Still there—some dried, some still wet. Thick streaks smeared across the polished wood like spilled ink.

He reached for his phone on the nightstand.

4:03 AM.

He’d been out for nearly five hours.

Even so, a flicker of hope stirred in his chest. Maybe—just maybe—everything had worked.

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