Chapter 169: I Can Tell You Are Skeptical
April didn’t offer a single word of comfort. She simply reached down for the digital terminal reader at the corner of her leg, and slid it across the black velvet cloth until it tapped against his trembling silver cane.
"The price for this reading is a flat fifty million," April said, her voice entirely business-like, treating his shattered world like nothing more than a fulfilled invoice. "Pay, and then leave the market. If you want to know exactly which room in your estate holds the fraudulent asset transfer sheets, you will have to come back tomorrow night with a heavier account."
Hector’s hand hovered over his coat pocket, but he didn’t pull out his card or even his phone right away. The initial shock was beginning to curdle into a deep, desperate paranoia.
What if this was a highly elaborate setup? What if his nephew had hired this masked woman, fed her these details, and staged this entire supernatural display just to turn him against his own second son?
It did not explain how she knew of the things he had never told anyone but anything was possible.
In the lawless underbelly of the black market, information was a weapon, and psychological warfare was a common currency. If he blindly believed a street seer and altered his will, he could be walking straight into a different kind of trap.
His eyes narrowed beneath his heavy brows, tracking her masked face. "A clean script," he raspy whispered, his jaw tightening. "But fifty million is a steep price for a story that could easily be manufactured by a spy hiding in my household."
April watched his subtle hesitation, completely parsing the frantic calculations running through his mind. She didn’t get angry, nor did she make any effort to defend her credibility.
"I can tell you are skeptical," April said, her voice remaining entirely flat and indifferent. She tapped the edge of the digital reader, sliding it a fraction of an inch closer to his cane. "So I will do this for you. Pay twenty-five million tonight. When you return home, check for the evidence yourself. Once you have confirmed the majority of the facts and realize I do not lie, come back tomorrow night and bring the rest of the balance. But like I said, if you want to know more, you will have to come with deeper pockets. This is the height of my generosity since I respect my elders so much."
To April, it didn’t matter in the slightest if he took the warning, resolved his family crisis, and ran away without ever paying the remaining twenty-five million.
She wasn’t doing this to earn money anyway; her black market auction streams were already raking in more capital than she could realistically spend before the deadline.
Her singular focus at this start was building the proficiency points for her Eye of Destiny skill. Whether he paid the full amount or not changed nothing in her leveling matrix.
In fact, whether he came back or not, he also didn’t have anything to lose since he would be dead before the apocalypse and there was no need to warn him, unless he wanted to use the warning on the children and grandchildren he held so dearly.
In any case, fate was at play here.
Hector stared at her, thoroughly caught off guard by her willingness to compromise. A fraud would have demanded the full sum upfront before the mark could leave the stall and realize they had been tricked.
Her absolute lack of greed—her utter carelessness regarding the missing millions—was the most convincing proof she could have possibly offered.
Slowly, the old man pulled his black elite credit card from his coat. With a hand that still trembled slightly, he tapped it against the screen of her terminal reader.
Beep.
The digital interface flashed green, confirming a successful transfer of twenty-five million.
"Twenty-five million," Hector muttered, his voice thick with a grim, heavy resolve as he stood up from the wooden chair, leaning heavily on his silver cane. "If I find so much as a single forged signature on my son’s tablet tonight... I will be back before you even open your doors tomorrow."
"Just make sure your accounts are prepared," April replied simply with a light wave of her hand.
Without another word, the old man turned and blended back into the crowded, shadowy currents of the upper market alleyway, his mind entirely consumed by the urgent need to audit his own household before Saturday arrived.
April watched the velvet curtain sway slightly as the old man disappeared into the shifting crowd of the upper market. The small terminal reader on her table blinked once, displaying a clean, cold confirmation: +25,000,000.
This is good enough to get more supplies for Lily and Rufus, she thought and rested her chin in her hand, her dark eyes reflecting the blue light of the orb.
The sum wasn’t much but it had come from an old man whose desperate, protective instinct mirrored Robert Greels’ relentless fight for survival back then when he had been poisoned, just so he could protect his grandson. Thinking about it made a faint, unrecognizable emotion rippled through her chest.
She quickly suppressed it. She couldn’t afford to care. The world hadn’t cared when she was dying in silence in her past life, and she wasn’t about to play the role of a savior now.
She was just a merchant trading secrets for system experience.
She leaned back in her chair, pulled her black blazer a little tighter around her shoulders, and closed her eyes behind the masquerade mask.
The phantom warmth of Alexander’s forehead kiss from earlier that evening suddenly flared back to life against her skin, breaking her cold focus for a brief, annoying second.
She let out a slow, irritated breath.
Too many variables, she thought, her fingers tapping an impatient pattern against the edge of the table. The men, the market, the timeline. Everything was moving way too fast.
She forced her mind back into a state of absolute clinical indifference, opened her eyes, and stared directly at the dark alleyway outside her stall, waiting to see who her next customer would be.