World's Richest Man: I Leaped Across Time

Last time, I had a mask on, but now Soros already knew that Kirstie Allen was gone, and the man who took the favor for faking someone's death wore a tiger mask.

I needed to look like someone else—someone new in the club.

A few hours later, as the skies had darkened, the helicopter touched down softly on the Freewinds yacht near New York Harbor.

I stepped off the helicopter and onto the deck.

It was quite warm outsite despite the late hour. I could see a few of the members still lingering outside.

As I walked around the deck, I noticed something peculiar.

There were two men standing near the railing and talking with each other. One was wearing a dark red suit while the other wore a black mask with a white suit.

I couldn't hear much, but I caught a word that stood out—Soros.

My ears perked up at the mention of that name.

What were they talking about?

I made a mental note of it as I headed inside the yacht.

Inside, I made my way up to the balcony, choosing a different table from where I sat last time. The balcony was already filled with people, all dressed sharp, talking and making deals.

A model approached me with a menu, and I ordered a plate of the seafood special.

As I waited, I looked around. That's when I spotted the man in the dark red suit again. He was heading toward the balcony, and my eyes followed him.

He sat down at a table—a bit bigger than the others.

And then I saw Soros, sitting right there.

'He seemed to have been absent last month.' I thought.

There were six other people around the table with him.

My food arrived just as I was still watching the scene, but before I could take a bite, someone approached my table.

"Excuse me, I believe I know you," the man said.

I looked up at him, a guy probably in his early 50s. His sharp suit screamed private wealth. "Sorry, I don't think we've met before," I said, keeping it formal.

He gave me a confident smile. "Benjamin Harper, I run Hudson Capital. A private fund. We've crossed paths, indirectly, I believe."

We did some talking while eating. He mostly talked about how he'd heard about me, curious about how I picked my stocks, wondering what my secret was. It was harmless enough, but I made sure not to give away too much.

After all, knowledge was power in this circle, and I wasn't about to give away mine for free.

...

Not long after, Emily Heart showed up at my table. She had her hair styled in waves and was wearing a bright red dress.

She looked surprised, but her smile was surprisingly warm, not hostile.

"Who do we have here... Jack Somnus... I didn't know you were part of the club," she said.

"That's good. You weren't supposed to know."

"Hey, hey. Forget about the past for now," she said dismissively, waving her hand like she was shooing away a pesky fly.

"Mrs. Emily Johnson, am I right?" Benjamin started. "I'm Benjamin Harper, it's nice to meet you." he introduced himself.

Emily glanced at him. "It's Emily Heart... not Emily Johnson." she said, and then turned her attention back to me, ignoring Benjamin. "Anyway... I'm looking for a dance partner... You interested?"

'Where was this going?' I paused. "What kind of dance are we talking about?" I asked.

She laughed lightly. "Dance is a dance. What are you thinking? Come on, just for a few minutes."

I decided to take her up on the offer. I had something I wanted to ask her.

Even before we started dancing together, I watched her enter the dance floor with sultry dance steps.

I was quite sure that she was doing that with everyone. Knowing that she could make men desire her with just a look or a touch, she was manipulating them.

"Come now, Jack," she said, as she came closer to me and put her hands on my shoulders. "There's no use in fighting against each other."

The music was soft and smooth and as we danced, I leaned in, whispering in her ear. "What's the connection between Arnold and your family?"

For a moment, she gave me a strange look. Then she smiled again and stood up on her feet, her lips close to my ear. "You really want to know?" she purred. "I can tell you, but you'll have to promise to make it worth my while."

"I don't have time for your antics, Emily." I said. "You don't need to tell me. I'll find out on my own."

She made a disappointed expression at that and then said, "And what's your connection with Derec Johnson? Hmm? If you don't know why, then the answer is probably money, isn't it?"

She didn't answer at all, but I didn't push it.

Instead, I whispered back, "If you really care about money, you should make sure not to stand against Sam and especially not against me."

I pulled away, leaving her standing on the dance floor and going right back to the balcony.

...

After a few dozen minutes, the auction began.

The lights dimmed slightly as someone took the stage.

It was the same person as the one from the last meeting. The scientist of the club. A woman with boyish, I could even say manly features. She looked more like a pretty boy than anything.

I had this thought in my mind: did the live prelonging procedures have some side effect of making someone's gender unrecognizable? If so, I wanted no part of it—not my thing.

And then something clicked in my mind. She was wearing a white suit. Her height... Was she the same person who had been talking to the man in the red suit earlier?

The woman did her exciting, squicky welcoming ceremony and then the supermodels came from behind the stage and delivered the plaques to each table.

'Theoretically, I should have 9 points available to ask for a favor...' I thought, and then I raised the pen to the plaque.

I didn't need money.

I also didn't need to request any shady things. If needed, Liberation would take care of that.

What I needed and what Liberation was expecting of me was to gain control. That included not only financial but also political control.

I wrote down my favor.

A few minutes later, an auctioneer came to the scene.

All the plaques were already gathered in front of him.

"Let the auction begin," he announced.

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