I went back to the yard and made myself read the fine print.

One million crystal to lease the ground. A hundred thousand more to hold it, again and again.

I have fifty thousand. Every coin sold, every long quiet night of it. The Vitrine costs twenty of everything I have.

I stood on the empty plot with that number for a while. For a second it gutted me.

At least it isn't a fog anymore. It's a number, and I know how to climb toward numbers. Eleven is close, and the vault terminals are supposed to pay in a different weight.

A million. Fine.

Back to it.