My Bad Karma

5.The Soul Insurance Scam and the Ghost of Interest Rates

The "Hope Orphanage" didn't look like a dump anymore. Thanks to Freza Peina’s "generous donations," the walls were freshly painted, the kids had new tunics, and there was even a fountain in the courtyard that glowed with a soft, calming blue light. It was a PR dream.

Freza walked through the halls like a rockstar, a gaggle of wide-eyed orphans following him like he was the Pied Piper. He stopped in the center of the common room, flashing that trademark "I’m here to save you" grin.

"Alright, listen up, squirts," Freza said, kneeling down to high-five a kid with a runny nose. "I know life’s been a bit of a grind for you guys. No family, no backing, just you against the world. It’s tough. It’s unfair. And frankly, it’s a bad look for the universe."

The orphanage matron, a woman who looked like she’d spent forty years worrying, wiped a tear from her eye. "Master Freza, you’ve already done so much. The food, the clothes..."

"That’s just the appetizer, Matron," Freza said, standing up and smoothing out his duster. "I’m here to talk about long-term security. I’m launching a new protocol called 'Soul Protection.' Think of it as a spiritual shield. It’ll keep you safe from sickness, bad vibes, and those nasty nightmares that come for you in the dark."

"Soul Protection?" one of the older boys asked, sounding skeptical. "What’s the catch? We don't have any money."

Freza laughed, and it sounded as genuine as a three-dollar bill. "Money? Kid, I’ve got plenty of that. I don't want your gold. I want your participation. See, this shield works like a network. You guys become part of my 'Guardian Cloud.' You stay safe, you stay healthy, and in return, your pure, untainted spirits help balance out the 'static' I deal with every day. It’s a win-win. Total synergy."

"So... we just have to sign something?" the boy asked.

"Just a thumbprint on this scroll," Freza said, pulling out a piece of parchment that smelled like ozone and old books. "It’s basically an insurance policy. I pay the premiums, you get the coverage. Simple as that."

As the kids lined up, excited to be part of something "big," Freza’s AI whispered in his ear. "Subject pool acquired. Thirty-two 'Buffer Nodes' added to the secondary insurance layer. These nodes are high-purity, low-entropy. They will absorb the 'Micro-Tribulations' of your daily cultivation with 99.9% efficiency."

"Perfect," Freza thought, watching a little girl press her thumb to the scroll. "They’re not just kids. They’re my backup servers. If the big 'Whales' like Jianhui ever crash, these little guys will soak up the spillover like sponges."

He patted the girl on the head. "There you go, sweetheart. You’re safe now. Don't worry about a thing. Uncle Freza’s got the bill."

While Freza was playing "Saint of the Year," Giyani was on the other side of the tracks, where the paint was peeling and the air smelled like stale tea and old regrets. She was sitting in a dive bar in the Lower District, across from a man who looked like he’d been chewed up and spat out by life itself.

"Pak Tua Banyu, right?" Giyani asked, pushing a cup of warm tea toward him. "I heard you used to run a whole klan."

The old man laughed, a dry, hacking sound. "A klan? Nona, I ran a dynasty. We had the best soil, the clearest wells. We were the envy of the province. And then, we met a 'Consultant'."

"A consultant?" Giyani leaned in, her quill ready.

"Yeah. One of those 'Fate Advisors' from the old school. He told us our luck was stagnating. Said we needed a 'Karmic Payday Loan' to jumpstart our next generation’s talent. We were greedy, Nona. We signed the papers."

"What happened?"

"The first ten years were great," Banyu said, his eyes glazing over. "The kids were geniuses. The harvests were double. We thought we’d hacked the system. But the interest... God, the interest. They didn't tell us it was variable. Every time we had a win, the 'Hell Bank' took sixty percent. When the debt hit its peak, they didn't just take our gold. They took our potential."

Giyani frowned. "They took your potential?"

"The next generation was born hollow," Banyu whispered, his hand trembling as he reached for the tea. "No spiritual roots. No talent. Just empty shells. The bank said we’d 'exhausted our credit line.' They foreclosed on the whole klan. Now? I’m the last one left, and I’m just waiting for the repo man to take my last breath."

Giyani felt a chill that had nothing to do with the draft in the bar. "This system... it’s been around for a long time, hasn't it?"

"Since the stars were young, kid. But it used to be messy. It used to be obvious. You knew when you were dealing with a shark," Banyu looked at a flyer on the wall—a picture of Freza Peina smiling next to the words FREE YOUR SOUL. "This new guy, though? Freza? He’s different. He’s making the chains look like jewelry. He’s selling the cage as a penthouse."

"He calls it 'Charity'," Giyani said, her voice tight.

"Of course he does," Banyu snorted. "The best way to rob a bank is to own it. And the best way to e*****e a soul is to make it think it’s being rescued. You watch out, Nona. You’re digging into things that don't like being seen. The 'Hell Bank' doesn't just want your money. It wants your story to end in their favor."

Giyani walked back toward the sect’s upper district, her mind a mess of barcodes and black bile. Everywhere she looked, she saw Freza’s face. On banners, on tokens, in the eyes of the disciples who looked "better than ever."

A merchant stopped her near the main gate. "Hey, Nona! You look stressed. You should go see the Great Master Freza. He’s doing a public 'Soul Cleansing' at the plaza today. It’s free! He’s just doing it for the good of the people."

"I bet he is," Giyani muttered, pushing past the man.

The plaza was packed. Freza was standing on a raised platform, his hands glowing with a soft, white light. He was "absorbing" the minor stresses and bad luck of a line of commoners that stretched for blocks. Each time someone walked away, they looked like they’d just won the lottery.

"He’s a saint!" an old woman cried, hugging her grandson. "My joints don't ache anymore! Master Freza took the pain away!"

Giyani watched from the shadows, her eyes darting to the sky. She didn't see a saint. She saw a guy rerouting the plumbing. Every bit of "pain" he took from that old woman was being tagged, bundled, and shipped off to a hidden "holding account."

"Status check," Freza whispered into his lapel, his face a mask of serene compassion.

"Soul Protection Network is stable," the AI replied. "The 'Orphan Buffer' is currently at 5% capacity. The 'Public Charity' data is being compressed and stored in the secondary vault. Your current 'Reputation Score' has reached 99.2. You are officially the most trusted man in the Eastern Provinces."

"Great," Freza thought, placing a hand on the next person’s head. "The more they trust me, the more they’ll sign. And the more they sign, the more meat I have in the grinder when the Auditors finally show up to check the books."

He caught Giyani’s eye in the crowd. He didn't look away. Instead, he gave her a small, knowing nod—the kind of look a poker player gives a spectator who just realized the deck is stacked.

Giyani felt a surge of pure, unadulterated fury. He wasn't even hiding it from her anymore. He was flaunting it. He was a god of a fake world, and he knew she couldn't prove a thing without burning down the whole sect.

"The 'Guru Besar yang Murah Hati'," she whispered to herself, the title feeling like ash in her mouth. "The Generous Great Master. It’s the perfect cover. Who’s gonna listen to a mid-level star nerd when they’re talking about a man who 'heals' orphans?"

She turned and headed back to the archive. She needed a bigger gun. She needed to find the "Mata Langit"—the Eye of Heaven. If the universe had a bank, it had to have a security guard. And she was going to find him, even if she had to hack the heavens to do it.

"Enjoy the spotlight, Freza," she thought, her eyes flashing with a dangerous resolve. "But the thing about long shadows is... they always lead back to the light that made them."