6 Source of Quintillion Coins

Drake moved through the bustling streets with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions in his mind. He left the motel, but pressing concerns still weighed heavily on him.

He asked himself, "What's my next move? Where do I even start?"

Drake clenched his fists. "Merlyn… they won't get away with this. I'll make sure of it. But my top priority is helping Ely. I won't let anything happen to her," he thought to himself, his sister's trusting and hopeful face flashing in his mind.

The Tribute System had granted him a fortune, but it could only be withdrawn in the form of coins. Drake realized that he needed a solution to this conundrum—a way to convert his coins into a more manageable and useful form of currency.

“Ugh! I said that, but where can I even find the miniature temple? I need to offer a tribute!” he exclaimed.

He retraced his steps through the city, attempting to recall the events of that night when he had met Zack White and stumbled upon the temple. The memory was hazy, clouded by the effects of alcohol and despair.

Drake approached a passerby and asked, “Excuse me, sir, I'm looking for a small, miniature-like, shabby temple dedicated to an unknown god. Have you heard of it?”

The passerby raised an eyebrow and replied, “A temple for an unknown god? That doesn't ring a bell. I've lived here all my life, and I've never heard of such a place.”

Drake nodded in understanding. “Thank you anyway.” He continued walking and approached another person. “Hello there, I'm on a quest to find a miniature-like, shabby temple dedicated to a god. Any ideas?”

The passersby scratched their heads. “Sorry, mate. You're speaking gibberish to me. If it's not a popular temple, it's probably not worth your time.”

Drake's frustration crept in. “I appreciate your honesty.” He kept walking and tried one more person. “Hello, I'm looking for a temple, but it's not your average one. It's really small, shabby, and dedicated to an unknown god. Any leads?”

Another passerby shrugged. “Small? Shabby temple? Unknown god? Sounds like something out of a fairy tale. I can't help you with that.”

Drake sighed, feeling discouraged. “Well, it seems like I'm chasing a ghost here. Thank you for your time, anyway.”

The hours stretched into the evening, and Drake's desperation grew. He knew he had to redouble his efforts to locate the miniature temple and unlock the system's full potential.

Drake continued his search into the night, but morning broke over the city, and Drake's relentless search for the miniature temple had yielded no results. Exhausted and disheartened, he knew he couldn't afford to waste any more time. The hospital had called again, and he had to visit his sister, Eleanor.

When he arrived at the hospital, he found his sister alone in her room, her eyes searching for their mother, who was conspicuously absent. Drake put on a brave face, determined to keep his sister’s spirits up.

"Eleanor," he began, his voice gentle, "I couldn't find Mom this morning. She must have had some errands to run."

Eleanor smiled weakly, her face pale from her illness. "It's okay, Drake. I know you're doing your best."

Drake's heart ached at the sight of his sister's frailty. He knew that he couldn't rely on their mother, who was addicted to gambling and unreliable at best. It was up to him to provide for Eleanor and ensure she received the medical care she desperately needed.

“Ely, you know that I will always be here for you," he comforted his sister.

“Of course, Drake. Thank you.”

Drake Chwe knew that he had to continue his search for the miniature temple, but for now, his sister needed him, and he would do everything in his power to ensure her well-being.

Drake pressed on with his mission to swap his coins for bills, finding himself in yet another bank, waiting in line, and counting his seemingly never-ending supply of 1-dollar coins. It was during this tedious process that a curious and concerned customer nearby spoke up.

"Excuse me," the customer said. "Do you have more coins to deposit?"

Drake glanced at the inquisitive customer, feeling a touch irritated that someone was prying into his business. But he kept his tone polite as he responded, "Yes, I do. I'm running a vending machine business." he fibbed to avoid arousing suspicion.

The customer suggested, "Well, why don't you ask the bank to pick up your coins for you?"

"They can do that?" Drake's eyes widened in surprise. He had never heard of such a service and couldn't believe he had missed out on a potentially more convenient way to deal with his coin surplus.

The customer elaborated, "Yes, they offer services similar to armored cash transport vehicles. For business owners like yourself, if you need to deposit a large amount of cash or valuable securities from your place of business, it's much faster to request a pickup and more efficient than waiting in line at the bank."

Drake couldn't believe his luck. He turned to the bank teller who had been assisting him and inquired, "Why didn't you mention this to me before?"

The teller politely responded, "I assumed you were already aware of this option, sir. I apologize for assuming you were trying to avoid the logistics fee for the pickup and preferred to visit our bank in person."

"No, I had no idea this was even possible," Drake admitted in utter disbelief. "Please arrange for a pickup for me."

"Of course, sir. Let me complete your current transaction first, and then you can move over here to fill out some forms."

"Great, that's a big help. Thanks," Drake expressed his gratitude to the bank teller, and he didn't forget to thank the customer who had significantly aided him in his exhausting coin-exchange quest.

Just when he thought his problems were finally behind him, another issue cropped up as he began filling out the form.

"I need to provide my business name and my business permit number," Drake inadvertently remarked.

"Yes, sir, it helps us identify the source of the funds," the bank attendant explained.

Drake gulped nervously. He averted his gaze from the smiling bank attendant, worried that they might suspect him of money laundering. He tried to think of a way to resolve this new problem.

"Hello?" Drake spoke into his phone as he called someone. "Aunt Beck, what's your business permit number?"

"Huh? Why are you asking for that?" came the grumpy voice on the other end. "I'm broke! You can't borrow money from me anymore!"

"No, it's not about that. I'll pay back what I owe you, with interest," Drake reassured in a hushed tone to prevent the bank attendant from overhearing. "Just give me your business permit number. I'll explain later."

"Drake, if you're paying me back pennies, you'd better ask for my bank account number, not my business permit number."

"No, Aunt, just trust me."

"You better not get me involved in anything illegal."

"I promise, Aunt. You know me."

Aunt Beck ended the call, and then she texted Drake her business permit number and registered business name. Drake couldn't help but smile at how much his aunt still trusted him, despite the disappointments caused by his gambling mother.

"Will this work?" Drake inquired of the bank attendant. "When can I expect the pickup service?"

"It will take two to three business days. We'll get in touch with you once we have it scheduled."

"Thank you," Drake said, expressing his gratitude.

With one problem resolved, Drake now had to wait for the bank to provide the service so he could have funds he needed for his sister's surgery. After leaving the bank, he headed straight to Aunt Beck's arcade store.

"Are you really going to pay me?" she asked skeptically. "That's three years' worth of interest."

"Yes, Aunt. But I have a request."

"Hmm? What is it?"

"It's hard to explain, so it's better for you to see."

Aunt Beck observed him from head to toe, wondering if Drake had been drinking or had gone crazy like his mother. Nonetheless, she followed him.

They entered her recently cleared-out storeroom, and she watched as Drake entered with confidence.

"Aunt, I trust you."

"And?"

"Please don't be shocked by what I'm about to show you," Drake said as he pressed on his system. Aunt Beck, of course, could only see him pressing his finger against thin air.

Aunt Beck rolled her eyes, done with Drake's antics. Just as she was about to turn away, a cascade of coins began piling up in the entire storeroom.

"W-what kind of sorcery is this?" she exclaimed in astonishment.