Eli stood in the heart of Learnville's market square, where the scent of ink and coin hung heavy in the air. The crowd pulsed like a living beast, roaring with joy one moment, trembling in panic the next. A banner screamed, "Starlight Crystals Soar 50%!" while another merchant cried, "Iron Forge Collapses!".
Eli's chest tightened. A part of him wanted to chase the rising star, to ride the wave and catch the glow of quick fortune. But another part recoiled at the thought of losing everything. He clutched his red box—etched with the rules of his Investment Policy Statement—like a charm against the madness.
At the Great Library, Benjamin waited, calm as ever. A carved wooden scale sat on the table before him. One side read "Greed," the other, "Fear."
"You're shaken, aren't you?" Benjamin said, eyeing him like a sage reading an ancient scroll.
"The market breathes through these two winds. Today, you'll learn to stand between them."
Eli sat down, his mind echoing with the chants of the crowd.
"How do I stop myself from getting swept away?" he asked.
Benjamin gently tilted the scale toward Greed.
"First, beware of herding," he said.
"The crowd doesn't follow wisdom. It chases what glitters.
They buy Starlight Crystals not because they're valuable, but because others are buying."
Eli remembered Silas's sparkling stall, how close he'd come to surrendering to the hype.
"I nearly bought some yesterday," he admitted.
Benjamin tapped the scale again.
"That's anchoring.
You fixate on a price—say, Starlight's recent high—and believe that's its true worth.
But price is just a number, Eli—not a truth."
Then he tipped the scale toward Fear.
"And this," he said, "is loss aversion.
Losing a single coin hurts more than gaining two.
That's why people panic at dips—they don't want to feel that sting."
Eli imagined himself holding a falling stock, too afraid to let go, too confused to think clearly.
"How do I fight those feelings?" he asked.
Benjamin handed him a small mirror.
"You learn to see yourself.
Ask: Are you chasing the crowd? Are you clinging to yesterday's price?
Are you selling just to escape pain?
Name your emotions—and they lose their grip."
Eli gazed into the mirror and saw uncertainty staring back—greed in his eyes, fear in his breath.
He opened his red box and read the rule carved in calm:
Buy only what is undervalued. Hold through storms.
His pulse slowed. The market's roar dulled in the distance.
"So I trust my plan," he said, "not my gut?"
Benjamin nodded with quiet pride.
"Exactly.
The market is a mirror of human hearts—wild, fickle, and often wrong.
But if you stay between Greed and Fear, you'll see what others miss."
He rose and placed a worn scroll on the table.
"Tomorrow, you'll face your first true test:
You'll choose a business to own—not to trade, but to believe in."
Eli stepped back into the square, the noise of Learnville washing over him like a tide he no longer feared. His red box was steady in his hands. And within him, a balance had begun to form.