Bitcoin Billionaire: I Regressed to Invest in the First Bitcoin!-Chapter 23: Living Situation

As exciting as the whole prospect of spending was, Darren had the system now, and because of that, he'd been toned to mind extravagance.

At least in the early stages of his wealth.

For now, he needed only to spend on things that were necessary.

He sat at his kitchen table, hands steepled, staring at the wooden surface in front of him. The system interface was floating in front of him, screen still glowing with the latest bank alerts.

Including the profit from Bitcoin, it was a total of 9.6 million dollars.

So what was the next move?

The first thing he did was to set aside $350,000 for the repayment of his loan. Darren had never forgotten how important that was. Even if he did, the system was always there to remind him;

┏Please, avoid debts┛or ┏System Reminder: You are now three and a half weeks into debt with the Red Fang Association. Only a few days left.┛

The Red Fang hadn't given him an account or a wallet to send the money to, since they didn't want their business to be tracked by the government. So his repayment would have to be in person, just as like the borrowing had been.

"System, mark the date, August 29th. That's when I'd be repaying the Red Fang. Exactly one month from when I borrowed."

┏August 29th has been marked. Your punctuality and preparedness has been noted.┛

┏You've earned a Character Bonus┛

Darren raised a brow, half surprised by the notification. "Thanks," he mumbled. 'Now... back to this. What should be my first expenditure?'

His gaze lifted, sweeping across the cramped kitchen. The paint on the walls had begun to fade, peeling at the corners where years of steam from cooking had settled. The cabinets were slightly chipped, the handles loose. The table he sat at wobbled faintly if he applied too much pressure.

"Ah shit." He cursed. "I can't believe I'm going to do it."

He loved this house. He did. As much as anyone would love the building that sheltered all of their childhood memories — both good and bad.

But to be fair, even in his former timeline, he had already left this place behind. He'd found a cheap apartment to stay in and lived there for years before he and Lily began to get serious and rented a penthouse.

The deal was, after his mother fell ill and died, his uncle had deceived them all and sold the house, despite it being under his mother's name.

He had given Darren a meager share of it, and because he was actually 21 around that time, Darren didn't know how to fight it. It was the money he ended up using to rent the apartment.

Darn... those were hard times.

Darren bent his head and squeezed his eyes, trying to chase away those memories. It won't happen again this time, he told himself.

Not when I have the system. Not when I know everything I know.

He leaned back, exhaling sharply. He would protect this house until his mother was healed and could decide for herself what she wanted to do with it. That choice was hers alone.

But keeping it didn't mean living in it.

He looked around again, taking in the small, suffocating walls, the dull lighting, the couch in the living room that had springs poking through the fabric. Even though he had kept the place clean, it felt worn out, tainted by the past.

He didn't want to bring his mother back to the same place where she had nearly died.

No. She deserved better.

She was his mother after all. The only woman truly entitled to enjoy the money he made.

Darren stood up, sunk his hand into his pockets and let out a decisive sigh. 'It's time I upgraded my living situation.'

» » » « « «

Darren stepped out of a neat yellow taxi, adjusting the cuff of his simple black shirt. He hadn't put much thought into his entire outfit, since he hadn't yet revealed himself as an investor, there was no need to dress extravagantly in order to maintain status.

So he had on a dark sleeved button-up shirt, navy-blue jean trousers, with clean black shoes.

He had arrived at Wellington Realty, one of the top luxury real estate firms in the city.

Ding!

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┏Insight Protocol Complete: Information on Wellington Realty is as follows┛

┏Estimated Net Worth: $1.3 billion┛

┏Primary Income: High-end real estate sales, luxury property management, commercial leasing, real estate investment funds┛

┏Owner: Sterling Wellington┛

┏Known for: Exclusive high-value properties, elite clientele, discreet high-profile transactions, exceptional customer service┛

┏Public Reception: ★★★★☆┛

┏Tactics: Maintains prestige through selective client screening, negotiates aggressively to maximize profit, fosters relationships with wealthy investors and developers, prioritizes high commissions over quick sales┛

┏System's Advice: Valuable for securing premium real estate. Be mindful of their profit-driven approach—negotiation and leverage will be key.┛

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After he'd taken note of that, Darren walked into the building.

The building itself exuded wealth. It looked fairly modern for its time, made of glass and polished marble floors, high ceilings, and sleek furniture arranged with meticulous precision. The air smelled faintly of fresh coffee and expensive cologne.

Inside, the reception area buzzed with activity.

Updat𝓮d from freewēbnoveℓ.com.

Well-dressed agents sat behind glass desks, speaking into phones or flipping through thick property portfolios. A few prospective buyers lounged in plush leather seats, sipping complimentary drinks while waiting for their appointments.

The moment Darren walked in, he immediately drew curious glances. This was expected, because well, Darren was young. Far younger than the usual clientele that walked through these doors.

Some agents gave polite smiles before quickly looking away, assuming he was lost or simply accompanying someone else.

Ignoring them, he headed straight to the front desk, still feeling the skepticism in the air.

It was subtle at first. The receptionist gave him a brisk once-over, and then returned to her computer. The other agent — a sharply dressed middle-aged man — raised a brow but said nothing, he also assumed the boy was with someone else.

Ignoring it, Darren strode toward the desk of a woman in her late thirties, her dark blonde hair neatly pinned in a bun.

She was currently speaking with a broad-shouldered man, middle-aged in an expensive yet slightly outdated suit. The man held an air of arrogance, exuding the confidence of someone used to getting what they wanted.

From what Darren could see, he was trying to purchase a house, and he seemed very adamant on a particular one.

Darren stretched his neck slightly to peek at the building he wanted to buy. His eyes found the papers in front of them. The price tag was clear.

$1,000,000.