Konrad Adler arrived at seven forty-five carrying no flowers.
He entered alone, closed the door, and placed a slim leather folder on the cabinet beside Alexander’s bed.
His manner suggested a scheduled office meeting rather than a visit to a grandson whose heart had stopped that morning.
Alexander understood the disguise.
Konrad had already seen him awake.
He had satisfied the emotional need privately and now offered the form of respect he knew best: a serious test.
“Your mother says you want twenty million marks.”
“She moves quickly.”
“She is an Adler.”
“And a Falkenberg.”
Konrad took Helena’s chair.
“That explains the decision to ask for twenty instead of two.”
“Twenty allows the structure to matter.”
“A structure can be built around one mark.”
“Not tested by it.”
The old banker opened the folder.
“Then let us test you.”
He handed Alexander a three-page internal summary from an Adler industrial subsidiary.
The company manufactured specialised machinery and appeared profitable.
Revenue had risen.
Reported earnings had improved.
Directors sought capital for expansion.
The original Alexander had seen documents like it at family dinners and lost interest by the second column.
The new Alexander read every line.
Accounts receivable were rising faster than revenue.
Inventory had increased.
Cash from operations had weakened despite improved reported profit.
Debt maturities clustered uncomfortably close to the proposed expansion.
“What do you see?” Konrad asked.
“Customers are paying later, management is recognising revenue too aggressively, or both.
Inventory growth suggests demand is weaker than the directors admit.
The profit looks better while the cash looks worse.”
“And the requested capital?”
“Do not provide it as ordinary equity yet.
Audit the receivables, inventory, and order quality.
If the business is sound but badly managed, finance specific equipment through a secured entity with reporting conditions.”
Konrad’s expression did not change.
“Your accounting marks are ordinary.”
“My marks reflect attention.”
“That is not a defence.”
“It is an explanation.”
Konrad handed him another page.
A commercial property partnership offered attractive yields from several buildings financed by short-term variable debt.
Alexander identified the refinancing risk.
The next case involved a publishing company overdependent on one successful author.
He questioned intellectual-property ownership, advance obligations, and whether the firm controlled translation rights.
Then came foreign exchange.
Konrad asked what happened to an exporter if the Deutsche Mark strengthened.
Alexander explained the pressure on foreign revenues and the need to distinguish operational advantage from currency translation.
Interest rates.
Inflation.
Insurance reserves.
Minority shareholding versus voting control.
The difference between a valuable company and a valuable purchase at the wrong price.
Alexander answered from previous-life knowledge, inherited education, and principles he had studied for years without ever possessing capital large enough to apply them.
He avoided impossible predictions.
He did not name the exact date of a future crash or announce that one unknown American software company would dominate the world.
That would sound less like brilliance than delusion.
Instead, he argued from direction.
Computers would become smaller because semiconductor economics rewarded density and scale.
As machines spread, software would become repeatable intellectual property with a low marginal reproduction cost.
Sport would anchor paid television because live uncertainty resisted delayed consumption.
Urban land near transport and entertainment would gain value as cities expanded.
Archives and characters could earn repeatedly if rights remained owned.
Konrad interrupted often.
“Why will households want computers?”
“At first, most won’t.
Businesses, schools, and enthusiasts create the market.
Better interfaces and useful software widen it.”
“Which useful software?”
“Accounting, word processing, databases, games, and communication.”
“Communication through computers?”
Konrad leaned back.
“You are describing telephone networks carrying written information.”
“Among other things.”
“At what speed?”
“Too slowly at first.
Infrastructure improves when demand justifies investment.”
“And you want to invest before demand exists.”
“In several enabling layers, not one product.”
The old man moved to media.
“Paid television requires people to pay for what broadcasters currently provide.”
“It requires exclusive or expanded content they cannot receive otherwise.
Sport creates recurring appointments.
Films and series fill the schedule.
News maintains habit.”
“German regulation may prevent the model.”
“Then we invest in production, archives, and technology that broadcasters still use.
We build internationally where laws allow more.”
“You assume access to foreign markets.”
“The family already owns companies that export.”
“Machinery is not television.”
“Relationships with banks, lawyers, and governments transfer.
Industry expertise must be hired.”
The answer satisfied Konrad because it acknowledged the gap.
After forty minutes, the folder closed.
“Twenty million is too much.”
Alexander had expected that opening.
“How much is appropriate?”
“Five.”
“Committed or immediately funded?”
Konrad’s eyes sharpened.
“Immediately funded.”
“Then twenty committed, five released at incorporation, five after approved investment cases, five after a professional contract or Abitur, and five after the first annual audit.”
“You have converted my refusal into your schedule.”
“I converted five million into an initial tranche.”
“Your mother taught you that?”
“Watching her negotiate with you did.”
Konrad almost smiled.
“Ten million committed.
Five immediately, five after six months.
Another ten if you sign a professional contract or complete your Abitur with strong results.”
Alexander evaluated the offer.
The professional contract might arrive sooner than Konrad imagined if the system performed as promised.
Pushing harder could turn a favourable structure into a contest of pride.
“Twenty committed,” Alexander said.
“Ten funded at incorporation.
Ten released upon a professional contract or strong Abitur results.
Mother approves each investment allocation.
You retain the right to stop unfunded capital if fraud, personal spending, or material dishonesty is discovered.”
Konrad tapped one finger against the folder.
“And losses?”
“Investment losses consistent with an approved thesis are not grounds for withdrawal.
Concealing them is.”
“You expect me to finance your mistakes.”
“You expect me to learn.
Real learning includes losses.”
“Not twenty million marks of them.”
“That is why no single position receives twenty.”
Konrad stood and walked towards the window.
Rain had weakened to a mist.
“Your father believes this seriousness may be temporary.”
“Then tranche conditions protect you.”
“Your mother believes you have always possessed this mind and chosen not to use it.”
“That is kinder than the truth.”
“Which truth?”
Alexander allowed a pause.
“I wasted time because consequences felt distant.”
Konrad turned.
The answer contained no supernatural claim.
It also reached the old man’s deepest fear about his sole heir.
“Twenty million committed,” Konrad said.
“Ten upon proper formation.
Helena approves allocations.
I receive quarterly reports.”
Alexander extended his hand.
“Agreed.”
Konrad looked at the offered hand as though noticing that his grandson had conducted the negotiation without once asking what money he could spend personally.
They shook.
“If you buy a ridiculous car from the fund,” Konrad said, “I will liquidate it myself.”
“At book value or market?”
The old man laughed.
It was a short, surprised sound Alexander had never heard in the inherited memories.
Konrad collected the folder.
“Helena will contact counsel tomorrow.
Rest tonight.”
“I intend to.”
At the door, Konrad paused.
“One more question.
Why twenty?
Why not fifty?”
“Because twenty is large enough to test the structure and small enough that you can agree without believing affection defeated judgement.”
Konrad stared at him for several seconds.
“You are dangerous when interested.”
“I plan to remain interested.”
The door closed.
Alexander replayed the negotiation before touching the system again.
Konrad had not merely granted money.
He had defined the governance of Alexander’s first institution.
Helena’s approval prevented a seventeen-year-old from moving capital on impulse.
Quarterly reports would force documentation.
The professional-contract condition aligned family money with visible achievement instead of inherited entitlement.
Those restrictions were useful enough that Alexander would have invented versions of them himself.
Ten million marks in 1980 could not buy every future winner, and trying would expose knowledge he could not explain.
It could establish holding companies, retain first-rate counsel, secure modest property, and acquire minority stakes in overlooked technical businesses.
The first objective was not maximum return.
It was a trustworthy machine for making decisions, recording ownership, and surviving scrutiny.
Once the machine existed, larger family capital could enter without depending on Alexander’s personal credibility alone.
He wrote three names on the hospital notepad.
Weiss.
Vogel.
Rights.
Weiss and Vogel belonged to the Imperial Support Corps mentioned by the system.
He had not yet opened their full profiles, but one would anchor finance and the other operations.
Rights was a reminder that football fame should not be surrendered casually.
Salary would be small compared with the future value of image, media, and licensing control.
If his sporting transformation worked, contracts signed while he was still treated as a grateful youth prospect could become the most expensive agreements of his life.
The fund and the football career were therefore not separate ambitions.
Each protected the other.
Independent capital gave him patience in negotiations.
Sporting fame created access, deal flow, and public trust.
Ownership converted temporary applause into assets that could outlive his knees.
Alexander opened the system.
Financial capital had been secured without revealing future knowledge too precisely.
His first fund would begin with ten million marks and a clear route to twenty.
Now came the far more valuable investment.
He selected Legendary Dream Training.
One Continuous Sleep Session
Multiplier: 1,000:1
Cost: 20,000
Balance After Purchase: 401,584
The confirmation warned him once more about conscious duration, age detachment, and memory strain.
Steel Mind and Host Protection were detected.
Safe integration was available.
Alexander confirmed.
The session would activate when natural sleep began.
He looked at the clock.
Eight real hours could contain eight thousand hours of football—almost a year of uninterrupted conscious time and more than five conventional professional training years when measured as active practice.
The old Alexander had possessed another year before coaches likely closed the Bayern door.
The new Alexander needed one night to make their evaluation obsolete.
He turned off the lamp.
Perfection had cost 292,000 points, including the locator and Legendary session.
If it worked, that price would become the greatest bargain in sporting history.