Chapter 8: A Card Beyond Black

Words : 1742 Updated : Oct 17th, 2025

"Well, look who it is-the Lyson heir himself! What an honor. Sorry I didn't come out sooner!" The herbal market shopkeeper spotted the Armani-clad youth instantly and hurried over to greet him. Gerald Lyson was the general manager of Lyson Corporation in Nykomar-the city's most notorious rich kid. He held the title so young for one reason: his father was the chairman. People said Gerald's GM job was just for show; he didn't manage a thing. His real routine was burning through cash, street racing, and chasing girls. To any shopkeeper, he was every merchant's dream customer-a cash cow-so they treated him with kid gloves. "No need for the fuss. Wrap up that Century Wild Ginseng for me-I need it fast," Gerald said, flicking his wrist like he was signing off on an invoice. His buddy Bryson Lawson was injured and in the hospital; given Gerald's status, he couldn't just send over any ordinary tonic. Word was the herbal market had a hundred-year ginseng, so he'd come straight over. "Yes, yes." The shopkeeper bowed and scraped as he hurriedly pulled a sandalwood box from under the counter, ready to pack the ginseng. "Hold it. I think I called dibs on that ginseng." Otto Nicholson, who'd been treated like he was invisible till now, set a hand on the root. "You called it? You, a stinking beggar? You think you can afford it? Get lost, or I'll break your leg," Gerald snapped. "Break my leg? Other than my old man, I don't recall anyone on this planet who can break my leg," Otto shrugged. "Still mouthing off. Let's see what's tougher-your jaw or your legs. Go on, pin him down. I'm breaking his legs myself." Gerald flicked a hand. The two lackeys behind him lunged at Otto, while Gerald himself turned and grabbed the fire extinguisher sitting nearby. He clearly meant to smash Otto's legs with it. The commotion drew the whole herbal market. People crowded around in layers. Nykomar was small-small enough that half the city recognized the Lyson heir on sight. "Of all the people to mess with, this beggar picked the Lyson heir." "He means business. Gerald's even nastier than Bryson Lawson." "There you have it. A beggar about to become a one-legged beggar." "Honestly, a busted leg's not all bad. Might make begging easier." The rubberneckers whispered among themselves. Bang, bang! The murmurs cut off at once. People rubbed their eyes, stunned to see the two lackeys who'd gone for Otto sailing a good thirty feet, landing sprawled and unable to move. Gerald, fire extinguisher in hand, froze. He hadn't expected Otto to fight back-and definitely not that hard. If he'd known, he would've brought more muscle. "You're in trouble. Big trouble," Gerald barked after a beat, trying to cover his shock with bluster. "Why does that sound so familiar?" Otto dug a finger in his ear. "The last guy who told me that's in the hospital. Why don't you go keep him company?" As he spoke, Otto yanked away the extinguisher and slammed it into Gerald's left leg. Crack! Gerald's left leg snapped clean in two. "Aaaah, aaah, aaah!" He lost his balance and collapsed, howling in pain. "Let's make it a pair." Otto didn't stop. He swung the extinguisher again, crashing it into Gerald's right leg with another crack. With both legs broken, Gerald blacked out on the spot. "Brutal…" Hundreds of onlookers gasped. In Nykomar, it was always the Lyson heir bullying others. Seeing someone bully him was unheard of. Normally, Otto would've bolted after causing a scene. Instead, he didn't run at all. He sauntered over to the shopkeeper, fire extinguisher dangling from his hand like it weighed nothing. The shopkeeper was petrified, terrified his own legs were next. "Wrap the ginseng for me," Otto said. "Yes, yes." Money was only money. As long as his legs stayed intact, losing a ginseng didn't matter. With trembling hands, the shopkeeper packed up that so-called Century Wild Ginseng-whose age wasn't quite a full hundred years-into the sandalwood box. "And give me some of these, too." Otto pointed at a few more items. After parting with a century ginseng in tears, the rest felt trivial. The shopkeeper bagged generous portions of each herb. "That'll do. Run my card." Otto nodded, satisfied, and took out a gold card, handing it over. "You're paying?" The shopkeeper blinked. He figured Otto would use the clout from thrashing the Lyson heir to just walk out without paying. "You sell, I buy. That's just how it works, right?" Otto looked at him like he was slow. "Right, of course, of course." Nothing felt sweeter than getting back what he thought he'd lost. Overjoyed, the shopkeeper snatched up Otto's card, grabbed the POS machine, and got to work. "The Century Wild Ginseng is priced at a hundred thousand dollars. I can give you twenty percent off-call it eighty thousand. The other herbs are on the house." He explained as he got ready to swipe. Then he glanced at the card and went pale. It wasn't a bank card at all. There wasn't even a card number on it. "Did you grab the wrong card? This looks like a membership card…" "It's not a membership card. Just swipe it," Otto waved casually. "I'll give it a try." Feeling a headache coming on, the shopkeeper keyed eighty thousand into the POS machine, then drew the numberless card through the reader. Beep. Transaction approved. The chime rang out, and eighty thousand landed in the account instantly. "This…" He was floored. Usually only charges under a hundred bucks go through without a PIN. He'd just charged eighty thousand-where was the password prompt? Could this be a legendary black card? Even those had numbers. The only explanation was that this card outranked a black card. If the card was that elite, the guy holding it had to be even more so. "No wonder he dared to break Gerald Lyson's legs. He dressed as a beggar on purpose, playing dumb before he pounced," the shopkeeper realized, breaking out in a cold sweat. At the same time, a thousand kilometers away in Frondoria, the capital of Draconia, a man in uniform sprang up from his desk. He checked the screen once, twice, three times, then snatched the secure red phone and reported up the chain. "General, that card just got used." "It was used? Where?" "Longcastle state, Nykomar." "Nykomar?" The voice on the line paused for three seconds. "Arrange a direct flight to Nykomar, now."

Chapter 8: A Card Beyond Black

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