$60K, solo

By July 2025 the business was doing $30K a month. By September it cleared $60K, at margins around 95 percent, with no team. No account managers, no contractors, no payroll, no morning stand-up. One man and the machine.

The comparison is not rhetorical. He had run companies with thirty employees. What he produced alone in September was that output — faster, more consistent, and without the part where he writes a perfect procedure and watches somebody skim it.

One week the billing came out to 168 hours. There are 168 hours in a week. That is what leverage looks like when the thing you delegate to never sleeps, never drifts, and reads every document you hand it.

Ninety-five percent margins is the number people react to. He knows what the number actually represents. It is twenty years of overhead — salaries, rent, management, the daily friction of getting other people to care as much as he did — subtracted all at once. Everything he had ever paid for, he stopped paying for.

And then, in the same month, the harder work.

He gave the destructive version of himself a name. Kaneibus — the handle he had run for years in RuneScape and World of Warcraft, the character he had been since he was a kid. It fit, which is the uncomfortable part. That name had always belonged to the version of him that burned things down.

Then he wrote the eulogy. Not a resolution. Not a plan to do better. A eulogy — past tense, spoken over someone who is gone.

That is a strange way to spend the best financial month of your life. It is also the only reason this one held. He had made money before. He had made considerably more than this before, and every single time it arrived, the man spending it was the same man who had lost it the last time.

September 2025 was the first time the money and the reckoning showed up in the same month. Name it. Eulogize it. Then go bill 168 hours.