As soon as he could, Alex rushed to the company. He didn't wait for permission, didn't stop to chat with the receptionist, he just walked straight to Phillip's office and knocked firmly.
"Come in," came a voice from inside.
Alex pushed the door open. "Phillip."
Phillip looked up, surprised but not annoyed. "Alex. You didn't waste time."
"I couldn't," Alex said, stepping in. "How did the presentation go?"
Phillip leaned back in his chair and let out a deep, tired breath. "Man... I've led projects before. I've pitched. I've stood in front of boards, investors, managers… But this one?" He shook his head and smiled faintly. "This one almost swallowed me."
Alex blinked. "That serious?"
Phillip nodded. "Bro, it was intense. The tension in that boardroom could slice through stone. I was sweating like someone under interrogation. I'm still recovering."
He laughed lightly, but Alex could see the exhaustion behind it.
"I hope it went well?" Alex asked.
Phillip gave a small nod. "I think so. They didn't give a final answer, but their expressions... their questions… Something tells me it made an impact."
Alex smiled a little. "I'm glad."
Phillip motioned toward the chair in front of him. "Sit down. You didn't come here to hear about my boardroom battle. What's up?"
Alex sat and exhaled slowly as if he had been holding it in all morning. "It's about NEOSPACE… the pitch. Raymond liked it, praised it even. But then he threw it back at me and told me to figure everything out on my own. That I'm supposed to do everything alone"
Phillip didn't say anything right away. He just looked at Alex, waiting for him to continue.
Alex's shoulders slumped. "I don't know how to go about it. I don't have the money. I don't have the tools. I barely have a laptop that works properly. I thought maybe, just maybe, you could help me somehow. Advice… a contact… anything."
There was a long silence in the room.
Then Phillip chuckled softly.
"Alex," he said, leaning forward a bit, "let me ask you something. Do you know why the rich are few? Why those at the top, the founders, the CEOs, the ones who call the shots, are always such a small group?"
Alex stared at him, unsure how to answer.
Phillip continued, "Do you think that employees, all those millions of people working nine-to-five jobs, don't have dreams? Don't have ideas? You think they don't wish they could build something of their own and break out of the system?"
He paused, letting that sink in.
"They do, Alex. So many of them do. They draw plans. They dream. They sit in silence, thinking about how they'll one day escape. But most of them… they never make it out."
Alex felt the weight of the words pressing on him.
"Why?" he asked, quietly. "Why don't they?"
Phillip leaned back with serious eyes now. "Because of exactly what you're feeling right now. Lack of funding. No support. No backup. No rich uncle to call. No magic wand. That's what holds them down. That's what keeps them in the system. They stay there, watching someone else's dream grow while theirs dies quietly."
Alex looked down, his heart sinking. "So… I'm one of them? Is that what you're saying?"
"No," Phillip said quickly. "I'm saying you're standing at that line right now. Between becoming just another dreamer stuck in the system… or becoming one of the few who actually find a way out."
Alex looked up at him, eyes filled with quiet desperation. "Then what am I supposed to do? How do I escape it?"
Phillip looked at him for a long moment. Then he said something that hit Alex harder than he expected.
"That's not a question I can answer."
Alex's lips parted slightly as if he was going to protest.
Phillip raised a hand gently. "Look, I know it's frustrating. I know it feels like I'm letting you down right now. But the truth is, this is part of your journey. Your personal journey. And I have a strong feeling that this is exactly what Mr. Carter wants you to experience. To figure out. To fight through."
He sighed and stood up slowly, walking to the window.
"I'm sorry, Alex. But at this point… I can't help you. Not with money. Not with resources. Not even with contacts. Because if I do, I'd be robbing you of the very lessons that might make you who you're meant to become."
He turned to face him. "If you survive this stage, you'll be different. Stronger. Sharper. But you have to pass through it. Alone."
Alex sat there in silence.
He wasn't angry. He wasn't even surprised.
Just... shaken.
This was the second time someone he looked up to, someone who believed in him, refused to step in.
Not because they didn't care.
But because they wanted him to grow. Or so they say.
His shoulders dropped, his heart heavy. "So… there's really no way you can help me? Not even a guide?"
Phillip gave a gentle sigh, as though the weight of what he was about to say wasn't easy to carry either. "Alex… I wish I could. But like I told you, this part of the journey isn't mine to shape. The only advice I can give you now is this, go through your lessons again."
Alex frowned slightly. "My lessons?"
"Yes," Phillip said firmly. "Every session. Every word Mr. Carter ever said. That man doesn't do things randomly. If he sent you on a mission, then trust me, he left you with clues. He's not the type to push someone into the deep without first teaching them how to swim."
Alex swallowed hard, disappointed but thoughtful. "Alright."
He stood up, turned, and walked out slowly.
As the office door shut behind him, his mind became loud, so loud it drowned out the sounds around him.
"..."
Go through your lessons again…
That sentence played in his head like a broken record.
He stepped into the elevator, leaned against the wall, and whispered, "What lesson, though? What exactly am I missing?"
He closed his eyes briefly, trying to remember something, anything from the hours he'd spent with Mr. Carter that could point him in a direction. But nothing clear came.
Then, like a soft breeze brushing his thoughts, a strange but specific idea floated into his mind.
Go to the market.
He opened his eyes.
Which market? Brixton Market or the old one downtown?
He hesitated for a moment. Then instinctively, he turned and walked toward the street. Begin from the last, he thought. Start where everything once felt unusual.
***
Downtown was buzzing.
Vendors were yelling prices, children were running around, and the smell of roasted corn, fried plantain, and sweaty human bodies filled the air.
Alex walked slowly through the crowd, scanning through the faces of people, not even sure of what he was looking for. He passed a woman selling beads, a man dragging a cart full of peppers, and a group of teenagers laughing around a fried meat stall.
Then his eyes caught something, or rather, someone.
Sitting with his legs crossed on a piece of cloth by the edge of the gutter was the old beggar. The same man he had seen the last time he was here. His beard was fuller now, and his clothes looked even more worn out, but there was something in his posture, stillness mixed with composure, that made him stand out from the crowd.
Alex's heartbeat picked up. Him. It's him again.
He crossed the street and approached him slowly.
Before Alex could even speak, the man looked up and said with a smirk, "Well, well, well… isn't it the homework boy?"
Alex blinked, stunned. "You remember me?"
The man chuckled. "How could I forget? Not every day I meet someone who sees what others don't. I even thought something had happened to you. Haven't seen you since that day."
Alex raised an eyebrow. "First of all, I'm not a boy. And second… what do you mean 'something happened to me'? You mean because of… the circle?"
The beggar's eyes changed instantly.
The smile faded.
He sat up straighter, his body tensed.
"You know about the circle?" he asked slowly, carefully.
Alex nodded, with a chill feeling dancing down his spine.
"That explains why you're still breathing," the man muttered with a more serious voice. "You've been discovered… and yet, here you are. Walking freely."
He narrowed his eyes. "Who's behind you, boy?"
"..."