CHAPTER 387: CHAPTER 387: CUBA (1)

[Edward POV]

The tour guide and I went to a nearby restaurant at my request. Some Cuban citizens recognized me and approached to take photos.

A few young girls even fainted when they saw me.

"I still got it," I said, winking at the crowd, making a few more fall down like dominos.

Mickey, my private bodyguard, commented lazily, "Has there ever been a time when you don’t get it?"

"Yeah, I do. When I go to rural Japanese villages—with populations mainly consisting of people over 60," I replied seriously.

He gave me a side-eye, and so did Isabella. As I walked down the streets of Havana, Mickey and Isabella grew more and more nervous about my casualness.

"Edward, shouldn’t we get more security?" Mickey glanced around, sweat beading on his forehead.

The scorching sun, and the anxiety brought on by Peter Kotsiopulos—the supersoldier creator who was still free to roam the world—made Mickey feel like he alone wasn’t enough to protect me.

"It’s fine. Nothing will happen to me," I said casually, waving off his concern with mild annoyance.

Suddenly, I saw something and left the group. When they turned around and I wasn’t there, it pushed them to the verge of breaking down.

"Dude, nice ride," I said to a Cuban man driving a Corvette. He waved at me, smiled politely, and drove away awkwardly.

I saw a lot of beautiful classic cars on the road. "No wonder my aunt likes classic cars so much," I muttered, making another girl faint with a finger heart.

Following a source of loud noise, I was led to a construction team trying to demolish a house. The house was in a state of disrepair and incredibly dangerous to live in.

One of Sado’s mandates in Cuba was to improve people’s lives by installing sewer lines and bringing buildings up to code.

The construction crew mostly consisted of volunteers and some disguised construction robots, so there wouldn’t be any accidents on-site.

The volunteers wore smart bands on their wrists that monitored their performance and rewarded them accordingly. It prevented people from gaming the handout system and also removed cartel influences from the government.

Currently, Cuba has adopted an experimental tier system.

The tier system worked like this: every citizen started at a basic level, earning guaranteed healthcare, education, and a living stipend to meet essential needs.

But beyond that, rewards scaled with contribution.

Students who excelled in academics or innovation earned scholarships and grants.

Workers and volunteers tracked by their bands received higher stipends, access to better housing, and priority in business loans.

Inventors and entrepreneurs who brought value to the community gained investment capital and public recognition.

This gamified approach pushed people to actively build their futures while ensuring nobody fell through the cracks.

They would actively try to raise their tiers for more benefits. Like a game system.

I saw some scary, tattooed men working hard to dig the sewer lines. Although Sado had bought a lot of equipment, the reconstruction was happening nationwide, so the equipment wasn’t enough.

Right now, most of the android workers were building the sewer processing plant just outside of the city, and also helping with the blimp wind turbines.

The power grid also needed to be reconstructed, as it was in poor condition. With my techs, the new power grid would be able to provide energy to the entire city with just twenty wind turbines floating around.

Tomorrow, the wind turbines will be unveiled to the world. It was also one of the reasons the President of the United States was here—for the ceremony.

With illegal trade cracked down, and cartels losing their sources of income—red light districts shuttered, smuggling routes cut—the streets felt different. Cleaner. Quieter. Safer. The government’s grip was firm but fair, and the people seemed cautiously hopeful.

So a lot of them had to volunteer to do the job.

Suddenly, I smelled delicious aromas coming from a food tent. I walked over and saw a familiar face—my mother’s former comrade, one who had returned to the country after the revolution.

He widened his eyes when he saw me. "Wait. Edward?"

"Yeah. Yesus, right? Should I call you Uncle Yesus since you’re friends with my mother?" I spoke casually, my eyes glued to the beef stew in front of me.

He smiled softly. "Yeah. Call me Uncle."

"So, Unc, how can I get this? It smells so good," I said playfully.

His smile turned strained as he replied, "Sorry. There’s a strict rule—the food is exclusive for volunteers today. Unless you knock some bricks down, you can’t have it."

"Hmm... Alright then. I’m going to register."

Mickey and Isabella finally caught up with me, running and sweating for some reason.

"Please don’t run off alone again," Isabella begged.

"Run? I’m not running anywhere."

Both of them looked confused when I suddenly grabbed a large hammer and placed it on my shoulders.

"Hey, Unc, the band tracks distribution, right?" I asked, even though I was already fully familiar with the system—I designed it, after all.

Mickey facepalmed as I began to work on demolishing the house. It was easy work. One swing and the wall came tumbling down. Then I shoveled the debris into a wheelbarrow and dumped it all into a large dumpster container.

The citizens were shocked when they saw me wearing a white tank top, tying an orange safety helmet on my head, and working as a laborer. There were a lot of pictures taken of the sight, and it went viral in the media again.

But this wasn’t a media stunt. I just wanted some food.

"Ahh, this beef stew is really good." I smiled in satisfaction as I munched on the food. It felt great eating after working hard. I ate with the other laborers who’s laughing at the situation.

It also made them weirdly proud for some reasons. Some of them told me that my roots to the country were deep, that’s why it happened.

I only volunteered for two hours—just enough to earn the stew.

After cleaning myself up, I went to a theater show. Some of the college students were performing, recreating the events of the revolution in a Broadway-style production.

Mickey wore a small earpiece that provided real-time translation of the show. To be fair, it was boring. But I pretended to be interested in it since there were reporters following me around.

Suddenly, both Mickey and I were surprised when we saw a familiar face among the crew.

"Sage?"

"Miss Anna?" Mickey rubbed his eyes, not believing what he saw.

"Why is she here?" I tilted my head, puzzled.

After the show ended and the cast bowed, Isabella asked the producer if we could meet one of the cast members.

"Hello... Nice to meet you." The girl who looked like Sage spoke with a slightly heavy accent in her English.

"Hmm? Miss Anna. Don’t you recognize us?" Mickey asked in shock, grabbing the girl by the shoulder and staring into her eyes. Suddenly, he shrieked, "Oh my god! She’s lost her memory! Or P.K. has a memory-altering machine! We need to get her out of here, now!"

"Wait—" I stopped Mickey by karate chopping him on the head. I turned to the girl, who now looked slightly afraid, and asked, "What’s your name?"

"Ana," she replied.

I waited in annoyance, even gesturing with my fingers—twirling them like a fast-forward motion—until she continued, "Ana De Armas."

I gasped in shock.

"Is... is there something wrong with her?" Isabella asked, curious and alarmed.

I took out my phone and showed her a picture of me and Sage. She too widened her eyes in shock and turned to Ana.

Then, I showed Ana the picture as well. She finally understood why we were reacting that way—and was also shocked.

"I have a twin sister?!" she gasped.

There was a long silence in the theater.

"Anyway, you should give me your number." I broke the silence with an absurd request.

We didn’t stay long as I needed to visit another place.

"I didn’t know we had a branch in Cuba." Mickey said with a happy surprise. "Is it Netflix?" Isabella asked.

"Netflix is also here, but I’m going to the Entertain Cuban Division. We just started it up... Well, today." I said with a slight smirk.

Later, the car came to a stop in front of a small, dilapidated building with a freshly painted Entertain logo on the cracked facade. Several people were already lined up outside, waiting to get in.

"See? We already have visitors," I said playfully.

Isabella and Mickey accompanied me inside to the boss’s office, where only one young worker sat—Luis, who reminded me of Ant-Man’s friend, earnest and slightly overwhelmed.

"Aaa... I’ve been telling a few friends about the movie grants," he explained nervously. "They told their friends. And then, their friends told their other friends. And so on and so on. Now almost everyone in the industry here knows about it."

I shrugged. "That’s fine. It actually saves me a lot of time now that they’re here. Have they submitted their proposals yet?"

Luis shook his head. "Um, we don’t do that here. We prefer to meet face to face."

"Wait, so I need to meet all of them?" I blinked in surprise.

"Of course, you can decline," he said, "but with the Latin pride and all, they’ll think you’re not taking them seriously."

I sighed deeply. "Alright, fine. Just... limit it to 10 to 20 minutes per person. I’ll only meet with 10 people today."

Since much of the equipment in the local industry was outdated or damaged, I couldn’t simply hand out money and expect results.

Reviving the Cuban film industry meant investing not just in talent, but in infrastructure—upgrading cameras, sound systems, editing suites, and securing distribution channels.

It was a slow process, but I wanted to rebuild the country’s passion and creativity back up. What’s a better way to do that with old fashioned blockbuster movies?

Although that’s just wishful thinking.

"I just needed to be here for the beginning. Once the industry could move on their own, I will bow out."

I didn’t plan to take over the entire movie industry here. I already had a lot on my plate.

...

We had the customary dinner with the presidents, taking many pictures to showcase the easing relationship between the two countries.

Sado had been a gracious host throughout the day. At night, I snuck out of the presidential palace to enjoy the nightlife in the city.

Of course, it wasn’t by car racing — nope, that was banned after the revolution.

"Damn it. Should I go to the clubs?" I muttered with exasperation. I stepped outside alone, wanting to see the changes in the city firsthand.

Although data could provide context, I wanted to hear about the city’s transformation from the mouths of its citizens.

As I was deciding, Sado suddenly jumped off a rooftop and landed smoothly in front of me.

"Sir," he greeted curtly. "Should I report to you the details of the country talk now?"

"No, when it’s done. I want to see how you handle this without my intervention," I said with a teasing smirk.

Looking disappointed, he remained silent. I asked, "Ah, where’s the best club around here? I want to sample the local drinks."

Sado shrugged. "I’ve been in the office for weeks. I have no idea."

Suddenly, another voice joined us as a feminine figure dropped from the rooftop—Robin, wearing tight jean shorts, high heels, and a deep-cut tank top, looking extra seductive tonight. She dressed to blend into the nightlife crowd and gather intel by seducing men.

"Ah, Robin. Have you found any remnant cartel activity yet?" I asked casually.

She shook her head. "I’ve scoured the entire city. I don’t think they’re here anymore."

"If they aren’t, I’ll let local law enforcement continue the search," Sado said.

After the revolution, various factions tried to incite chaos, and the cartel was one of them. Drugs and human trafficking were their main income streams, and Sado’s crackdown and strict anti-bribery stance made him their enemy.

"By the way, Sir, did you check the documentary before distributing it to theaters?" Robin suddenly asked, concern clouding her face.

"Huh? I left that to Abed. He showed me some rough cuts — did he do something else?" I asked, growing slightly anxious.

"You better check it now," she urged.

We borrowed an empty cinema hall and watched the documentary. After it ended, my expression fell flat.

"Abed... he needs to get punched," I muttered.

"Should I stop the release?" Robin asked.

"No need. The documentary’s still good. Just a surprise to me. But yeah — Abed’s getting punched." I pulled out my phone and called Annie. She picked up in ten seconds, despite it being nearly 3 a.m. The documentary had swelled to two and a half hours — Abed had added 45 minutes of extra footage in the final cut.

"Hello! I’m awake! I can do anything!" Annie said groggily.

"Annie, go punch Abed," I said.

"Huh? What—" she hesitated, then said, "Okay."

I heard footsteps as she walked down the hall, opened Abed’s door, and punched him while he was asleep.

"Ow!" Abed yelped.

"Good. Thanks, Annie," I said cheerfully, my mood lifting.

"Anytime," she replied. "What’s going on?"

"Ask him," I smiled. "He’ll know why."

...

Afterward, Sado, Robin, and I traveled to a rural area far from the city in Robin’s stealth QuinnJet.

We stopped at the foot of a mountain before jumping out.

"Are you sure the mountains are worthless?" I asked Sado.

"There’s only dirt inside," he confirmed.

"Perfect. I can use this." I reached into my bag of tricks.

Though the afterlife was locked, I still had many unused items—healing spells, summoning spells, and a collection of powerful gacha prizes, including:

[Midas – Turn anything to gold – One time use] x4

[Sersi (Eternal) – Permanent transmutation – Limited] x2

[Saiki Kusuo – High-level telekinesis – One time use] x4

[Magneto – Metal manipulation – One time use] x6

"There’s a lot more in my arsenal," I told Robin, "but I’ll focus on this for now."

"Why didn’t you use these abilities in the fight before?" Robin asked, puzzled. "If you had, maybe it would’ve been over quickly."

I sighed. "I didn’t have time to breathe then, let alone think. I lack real fighting experience."

Among all the skills, I was most excited about Sersi’s ability — to transform nothing into something.

If I knew the molecular structures of fictional elements like Unobtanium from Pandora, Kyber Crystals from Star Wars, Uru, Adamantium, Vibranium, or even exotic things like dark matter poop from Futurama, I could use it without hesitation.

"Give me some space," I told Robin and Sado.

"If I didn’t call you, don’t come back here, understood?" I warned as I activated Midas Touch.

Even humans could turn to gold, but the impact would be surreal — too risky. I had to be careful.

I stood in front of a 400-ton rock, about the size of a two-story house. Midas Touch required a whole object — touching a tiny grain of sand connected to the ground would only turn that grain to gold.

It was hard to find a natural boulder that size in Cuba. Sado ensured the surface I was about to touch was clean, so I wouldn’t accidentally trigger the power uselessly.

I touched the boulder with my index finger. Slowly, it turned into pure gold.

"Whoa."

The sight was mesmerizing. The transformation took a few seconds. The huge chunk of gold glowed beneath the moonlight.

Surprisingly, the size stayed the same.

"Wait, if the size stays constant, the density must have changed," I realized. "Rock to gold is about 7.15 times the difference in density. If it was 400 tons before, this must be... 2,860 tons of gold."

"Is it safe yet?" Robin called from a distance.

"Oh, yeah! It’s safe!" I shouted back.

They appeared beside me.

"3,212 tons of gold," Sado said, scanning the chunk with his android eyes.

I nodded. "The value will be—"

Robin interrupted, eyes wide. "Boss... this might be a mistake."

A heavy silence settled over us. The current value of gold in 2012 was around $1,600 per troy ounce. 3,212 tons would be worth roughly $165 billion. I admitted I’d made a mistake. I was aiming for around 400 tons of gold, which would be about $20 billion—a small but impactful injection into the country’s economy. A gold mine of this scale could easily spark wars.

Natural resources like this have a way of inviting greed and conflict, especially in fragile regions. History is filled with stories of countries torn apart by the battle for riches they never wanted to reveal. That’s why keeping this secret is not just smart, but necessary for the safety of the people.

"Wait. I need to split it up and bury it in different places to delay discovery," I said firmly.

I had already planned to use telekinesis. Concentrating, I began slicing the massive gold chunk into countless tiny pieces, launching them into the nearby hill and embedding them deep underground.

"Creating a hidden gold mine," I explained with satisfaction. Saiki Kusuo’s telekinesis was undeniably overpowered.

"Guys, race you to the next hill?" I said gleefully, starting to levitate from the ground. The enormous chunk of gold beside me rose effortlessly as well. I had already hidden about 1,000 tons here; now it was time to do the same in two other locations.

The telekinesis was so insanely powerful that even while carrying two thousand tons of gold, Robin and Sado struggled to keep up—despite flying at Mach 3 speeds.

"Boss, seriously," Robin called out, her face twisted with disbelief as the wind tangled her hair, "how are you struggling against those supersoldiers? Is it an act?"

"Nope," I replied with a sigh.

Suddenly, my eyes lit up.

"I don’t think the telekinesis is going to wear off anytime soon. I can probably use this for almost a day. Think guys, think! —what else can I do with this kind of power?"

(Sorry for the late chap. I have a bad nail and are in some pain rn. Ingrown toenail turns bad. Real bad Lol)