Chapter 1: The Coin Land for My Hand

I be street magician.

As I dey perform my usual hand tricks for under the hot Lagos sun, na so one billionaire, Baba Agbalagba, waka come meet me. Im get presence—big agbada, beaded cap, and the kind swagger wey dey make even okada men pause. Na im hand me one unique, fine coin. The coin no be ordinary; e shine like new naira for Sallah, with heavy weight wey fit make pesin hand tremble. I look the man well; e just dey smile like person wey know tomorrow.

Baba Agbalagba stretch hand, pass me the coin. As I collect am, im adjust him agbada, tap my shoulder, and yarn, 'My pikin, use sense o.' The man smile again—like say e don see wetin dey come.

"Ten minutes from now," im talk, voice deep like thunder after rain, "I go start livestream and tell everybody say I don give you this coin."

"Anybody wey hold the coin go inherit my whole estate—about seven hundred million US dollars. But I go only make my will official after seven days."

I understand, collect the coin, and sharply japa. My leg dey move fast like person wey dey chased by area boys after market wahala. For my mind, I dey pray small-small, dey hope say wahala no go follow me reach my mama house.

The coin heavy for my pocket, dey rise and fall with my heartbeat. As I waka, the cold sweat for my back na like when NEPA off fan and everywhere just dey hot. Even my hand dey tremble as I touch am. Na so the matter dey real.

Seven days. Seven hundred million dollars…

E be like dream, too sweet to believe. For Naija, na only jazz fit make this kind luck fall for your lap. But my spirit dey shout, "Guy, shine your eye!"

But e no tey, I see say e no go easy like that. As I dey move, my phone dey vibrate back-to-back—alerts, notifications, WhatsApp messages from people wey I never hear from since NYSC. Na so I know say kasala don burst.

This billionaire get wahala influence. Anytime wey im start livestream, tens of thousands go just appear. The kind people wey go appear sef, e fit be anybody—aboki, agbero, even big men wey dey drive Range Rover. For Naija, once money matter enter, everybody dey active.

Within minutes, the gist don spread for the whole city. E be like say the gist waka reach even places wey never get electricity. If you check Twitter, Facebook, even WhatsApp status, na my matter full everywhere.

Im no mention my name or how I look—just say na magician wey dey perform for so-so time and place. But Naija people sabi investigate pass EFCC. All those Instagram FBI girls don carry matter for head.

But sharp sharp, person post picture for comment.

"No be that magician for south junction of Palm Grove Avenue?" Person upload candid shot from afternoon. "Im show no even sweet [tongue out]—how this kind person take get luck like this?" The shade for the comment sef, e get as e be. Na so jealousy dey start for this city.

Another person drop video. "My family shop dey near there—see our CCTV. Im waka go north along Palm Grove Avenue." This na pure evidence, omo.

I shock. My belle cold like agidi wey don stay fridge. The fear grip me, but I try package face. My phone dey hot, my name dey fly, and for this Lagos, even my shadow no fit hide.