Chapter 11: Currency Exchange Shop
Terrence pushed open the heavy glass doors of the luxury currency exchange shop.
Holding the crisp cheque tightly in his hand, a wave of nervous excitement washed over his chest. This was the first time in his entire life he held five million credits under his own name.
Even though he was raised as a member of the prestigious Lee Family, he was never pampered or given massive allowances.
Because he failed to awaken a taming affinity at sixteen, he was treated like a glorified servant until his eventual exile.
"What’s your business here, kid?"
A stern voice snapped Terrence out of his thoughts. A burly guard in tactical armor stepped forward, blocking the entrance with a hand resting on his baton.
His eyes scanned Terrence’s dusty, worn-out clothes with clear disgust.
Terrence swallowed his annoyance and lifted the cheque. "I’m here to exchange this for cash."
The guard squinted at the paper. The moment his eyes registered the number of zeroes beside the official seal, his jaw dropped in utter disbelief.
"What the... Is that real?" the guard stammered.
"That’s not a question you’re qualified to ask me," Terrence replied coolly. "Step aside."
The guard hesitated, but the sheer size of the amount forced him to step back and let Terrence pass.
Terrence walked up to the high counter. Behind the thick bulletproof glass, a young teller was leaning back in a leather chair, tapping frantically on a tablet screen.
He was so absorbed in his mobile game that he didn’t even raise his head.
Terrence cleared his throat. "Excuse me..."
The teller slowly glanced up, scanning Terrence from head to toe with a sneer. Seeing the dirt smudges on Terrence’s jacket, the teller rolled his eyes and went straight back to his game.
"Get lost, kid. We don’t accept beggars here."
A sharp surge of irritation spiked in Terrence’s chest. He slapped his palm onto the marble counter.
"I am a client," Terrence said, his voice dropping into a stern tone. "The least you can do is look at what I brought."
The teller let out a dramatic, loud sigh. He tossed his tablet onto the desk and leaned forward, glaring through the glass gap. "Alright, spit it out. What do you want?"
Terrence clicked his tongue, disgusted by the man’s complete lack of professionalism.
He slid the five-million-credit cheque through the small gap beneath the glass partition.
"I want to cash this out."
The teller picked up the slip of paper with two fingers, looking at it as if it were covered in grease. He barely glanced at the numbers before shoving it right back through the gap.
"It’s fake. Get the hell out before I call security."
Terrence gritted his teeth, anger boiling under his skin.
"Are you blind? That is an official bank draft issued by Clara Neil of the Neil Family in Nara City. Look at the authentication stamp!"
Hearing the name of a famous high-tier family, the teller paused. He picked up the draft again and examined the metallic watermark under the desk light.
His eyes widened slightly as the truth hit him. It was 100% genuine.
The teller looked back up at Terrence, his mind racing with greedy thoughts.
’How did a ragged outcast like him get his hands on five million from the Neil Family? There’s no way she gave it to him willingly. He must have stolen it!’
A cruel, sly smile stretched across the teller’s face.
"You stole this, didn’t you?" the teller accused loudly. "You’re Terrence Lee, the trash who got kicked out of the Lee family yesterday! An outcast like you has no business holding a Neil Family draft!"
Terrence clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white. He could read the teller’s greedy thoughts as clear as day.
’He’s going to accuse me of theft, throw me out, and pocket the five million for himself. How fucking shameless!’
"Clara Neil gave that to me directly," Terrence said, forcing his voice to stay steady despite the fury rising in his throat. "Call your branch manager out right now."
"No need for a manager," the teller scoffed, slipping the five-million-credit draft straight into his own suit pocket.
He raised his hand and gestured toward the guard near the entrance.
"Security! Get this thief out of my sight!"
"Hey! Give that back!" Terrence roared, lunging forward and shoving his hand through the counter gap.
The teller smirked and casually took three steps backward, completely out of Terrence’s reach.
"Keep yelling, kid. It’s my word against a homeless outcast."
Terrence cursed violently under his breath.
The sheer helplessness of the situation burned in his chest. Without an awakened beast by his side, an ordinary human body couldn’t break through reinforced security glass.
"Time to go, kid," the heavy voice of the security guard rumbled right behind him.
A thick, iron-like hand grabbed Terrence by his collar, yanking him backward off his feet.
The guard began dragging him toward the glass exit doors, ready to throw him into the dusty street like trash.
Terrence gritted his teeth, his heart pounding with raw humiliation.
DING!
A crisp, mechanical chime echoed directly inside his mind.
[Warning: Host is under physical aggression.]
[Emergency Protocol Triggered: Activate ’Skill Share’?]
[Note: Temporarily bestows 20% of your S-Rank Shadow Hound’s physical attributes and active skills directly to your body.]
Terrence’s mind froze for a microsecond.
’Skill Share?!’
In standard beast-taming theory, Skill Share was an advanced bond technique that required years of synchronized training between a tamer and their contracted creature.
It allowed the human body to borrow a fraction of a beast’s raw power.
Terrence didn’t even know what specific skills his Shadow Hound possessed, but the system didn’t care about standard rules.
’Activate it!’ Terrence roared in his mind.
[Skill Share: S-Rank Mutated Iron Shadow Hound — ACTIVATED!]
BOOM!
A sudden, violent wave of dark energy surged through Terrence’s bloodstream.
His muscles expanded, his heart hammered like a war drum, and his eyes flashed with a terrifying, crimson light.
His physical presence exploded, saturating the entire lobby with a suffocating, predatory aura.
The heavy guard dragging him instantly felt like he was holding onto a burning hot anvil.
Before the guard could react, Terrence planted his feet firmly on the polished marble floor, completely stopping his momentum.
"What the—" the guard gasped, straining with all his might, but Terrence didn’t budge a single millimeter.
Terrence slowly turned his head. His eyes glowed with cold, pitch-black shadow energy.
He didn’t summon a beast. He didn’t use a weapon. He simply reached back, grabbed the heavy guard’s wrist, and squeezed.
CRACK!
"AAAGH!"
The guard screamed in agony as his tactical armor crumpled under Terrence’s bare fingers.
The raw, crushing power overwhelmed the guard’s legs, forcing him violently down onto his knees. The heavy stone tiles beneath the guard’s knees shattered into a spiderweb of cracks.
The entire exchange shop fell into a dead, horrifying silence.
The teller behind the bulletproof glass dropped his pen, his face turning ghostly white as he stared at the terrifying pressure radiating directly from Terrence’s body.
Terrence brushed off his collar, his eyes locking straight onto the trembling teller.
"Now..." Terrence said, his voice echoing with a low, unnatural metallic rumble. "Are you going to cash my cheque, or do I need to break through this glass?