Copy & Paste Power in Modern World

Adam looked at the chips for a while longer.

Darien’s work would need money.

Not small money.

If Adam wanted Darien to move in the market, prepare another branch, and later arrange a foreign cover, then fear alone would not be enough. A frightened man could obey orders, but a frightened man without funds could only make excuses.

Adam needed cash first.

He picked up a copied phone and called Bruno.

Bruno answered after several rings. His voice was lower than usual.

"Sir?"

"We need to talk," Adam said.

For a second, Bruno did not answer.

"Sir... if I move openly now," Bruno said. "If those foreign people find me, I am dead."

"They pulled back."

Bruno breathed in sharply. "Are you sure?"

"Sure enough."

That did not comfort him much. Adam could hear it in the silence. Bruno wanted a clean promise. He wanted Adam to say every watcher was gone, every threat had ended, and World Zone would not touch him.

Adam had no reason to give him that kind of lie.

"Listen carefully," Adam said. "Do not walk around like a hero. But you will start moving material again."

"Material?"

"Gold, stones, and other metals," Adam said. "I will send batches. You will push them through the underworld."

Bruno did not speak.

"Gonda’s people will help where needed," Adam continued. "Tobin’s side will help where Rust Gate channels are useful. Your job is simple. Make it move fast."

Bruno stayed quiet.

"Cheap if needed," Adam added. "Speed matters more than pride."

That part reached him.

Bruno had sold Adam’s goods before. He understood jewelry, gold, and underground buyers. A man could move clean goods through shops, but dirty volume needed men who did not ask for documents.

"If the price is too low, people will ask questions," Bruno said.

"Then let them ask each other," Adam said. "Not you."

Bruno swallowed. "Understood."

Adam gave him the first meeting point, then ended the call. A few minutes later, he broke the copied phone.

After that, he left the apartment where he had been pasting chips.

He changed into a plain disguise before going out. The new face looked like an ordinary middle-aged buyer, someone who might enter a jewelry shop to check small gifts and leave without staying in memory. He chose a busy market street where the cameras were old, the staff were tired, and customers moved in and out without anyone caring too much.

Inside the shop, Adam acted slow.

"Show me something simple," he told the clerk.

The clerk smiled with the patience of a man who had heard that sentence a hundred times. He took out small gold coins first. Adam picked one up, turned it between his fingers, and placed it back.

Copy.

Then came a thin bracelet, a silver bar used for gifting, and a platinum ring that the clerk said was rarely bought by regular customers. Adam touched each item only long enough to look uncertain about the price, copying them one after another while the clerk kept talking about weight and purity.

At last, after pretending to hesitate, Adam asked about small certified stones.

"Loose stones?" the clerk asked. "For a ring?"

"Maybe," Adam said. "I have not decided."

The clerk opened a small packet and showed him two stones under the light. Adam leaned forward, touched the edge of the packet, and let the power take the structure.

Copy.

He bought one cheap item at the end so the visit looked normal, then left the shop by the main road and changed direction twice.

Only after returning to a safe room did he start pasting.

Compared to chips, the work felt easier. The shapes were simpler. The materials did not demand the same precise structure. Gold, silver, platinum, and cut stones still cost strength, but they did not punish him the way hundreds of chips did.

That made volume possible.

The first batch went out through Bruno that night.

Bruno did not come himself. A man from his outer line collected one sealed bag from one point, another bag from a second point, and a third through a driver who thought he was moving stolen jewelry from a small robbery. None of them saw Adam.

That was how Adam wanted it.

By morning, Gonda’s channels had received their instruction too.

There were no speeches and no meetings. The order was simple. Move the material and keep the money flowing back through agreed hands.

Tobin’s side was slower because Rust Gate was still recovering, but even there, Niko found men who could sell quietly. Some buyers wanted gold. Some wanted loose stones. Some wanted metal that could be melted and reshaped before anyone asked where it came from.

Adam kept working.

For one week, he lived between chips and metals.

Chips went to Aster Core’s hidden supply. Metals went to the underworld. When his head hurt too much, he drank ORS. When his hands shook, he waited, ate, and started again.

Every few hours, Bruno’s side sent new numbers. One batch sold through a jeweler who did not care where it came from. Another went to a broker who handled old stolen pieces. The stones moved slower, but the metal moved fast.

Adam did not ask for perfect prices.

He wanted cash.

That impatience showed in the market faster than he expected.

In the province, small illegal gold dealers began lowering their buying offers because too much cheap material was suddenly floating around. A few larger handlers sent goods outward, and the price dip started touching other districts too. The legal national market did not collapse, but the underground price moved enough for men to whisper.

Someone was dumping metal.

Some said it came from a robbed vault. Some said a smuggling line had opened near the coast. One nervous broker even told Bruno that if this continued, half the small gold shops would stop buying for a few days just to see where the price settled.

No one knew the truth.

That was good enough.

By the seventh day, Adam had the number he wanted.

After cuts, losses, cheap sales, and rushed conversions, the usable amount crossed one hundred and fifty million dollars.

Adam sat in the safe room with the final figures in front of him. His body felt heavier than it should, but his mind was clear.

Now Darien had no excuse.

Adam picked up another copied phone and dialed the number.