A few days later, Lian stood at a distance from a large paper factory—one of the main suppliers for several newspaper companies—waiting.
The girl didn't know much, so Lian had done the rest himself. He found the company's details online and called them.
He introduced himself as William, a reseller of paper-production materials offering discounted supply.
He even mentioned meeting the owner at a party and discussing a potential deal. According to him, the owner had shown interest, but he'd "lost the contact" and wanted to visit in person to finalize things.
The receptionist didn't commit, but she noted it down.
Later, after confirming the owner's schedule, Lian decided to pay him a visit in person.
He watched as the man arrived and parked his car.
An older model.
Physical key.
Perfect.
Lian slipped into invisibility and moved in silence, passing security without drawing any attention. Reaching the car, he carefully picked the lock.
Five minutes later, the door clicked open.
Inside, he placed a communicator along with the photos he had taken of the man.
He didn't write any threats or demands on the back.
Lian left the area and settled into a nearby café.
People like that weren't easy targets. They'd likely been blackmailed before—or even done it to others. Unlike the girl, they wouldn't fold under pressure so easily.
If Lian were in his position, the optimal move would be simple: ignore it.
Don't react. Don't negotiate.
Just say, go ahead and release it.
The first time, it stings. The second and third time, it becomes a habit. And once someone starts paying, extortion rarely stops.
That was the real game.
I guess it all comes down to how much he values his reputation—and how much he's willing to lose.
Lian waited for a few hours.
Then his communicator rang.
The voice on the other end sounded controlled, but there was a hint of impatience and strain… maybe even unease. Lian caught it instantly, even if the man tried to hide it.
"Let's be clear," Lian said. "You understand what this means, right?"
"I have more than just one set of photos. This is only a sample. You'd be smart to cooperate."
The man cut in sharply.
"Thirty thousand. That's the final offer."
Lian blinked slightly.
Did he just skip straight to the final number?
"Don't you think that's a bit low for the kind of things you're hiding?"
The man didn't hesitate.
"And how do I know you actually have more? You're hiding your identity. For all I know, this is all you've got."
A pause.
"So yes, thirty thousand is more than fair."
Lian leaned back, hand resting against his forehead.
Damn… this guy's sharp.
Lian couldn't even bluff his way through this one.
"Well," Lian said casually, "let's say I only have this one."
A pause.
"I can still show it to your wife. Your kids too. Don't tell me you're fine with that."
The line went quiet.
The man continued, slower now, as if weighing invisible consequences.
After a bit of back-and-forth…
"Forty thousand," he said finally. "That's all I can do."
Lian's lips curled slightly.
Not bad.
And then, almost absentmindedly, his thoughts drifted:
Infidelity. That was what he was worried about. Not the age of the girl. Apparently, this world hadn't gotten around to caring about that yet.
The man then insisted he would only hand over the cash if Lian agreed to meet in person.
"How do I trust someone who hides his face?" he said.
Lian agreed.
They settled on an abandoned building as the meeting point.
When Lian arrived, he didn't walk in blind. He was already invisible.
Through his thermal goggles, he spotted three figures concealed nearby—waiting in the shadows.
Goons.
Of course.
He didn't expect a warm handshake and a bag of cash.
The moment Lian showed himself, they'd likely jump him. And if they started losing, the man would just play it off as if they were "bodyguards" and he had no intention of fighting.
Lian chuckled under his breath.
A sharp burst of electricity crackled in the dark, and one of the men dropped cold instantly.
The other two reacted fast, drawing guns.
Lian didn't panic.
If I get hit, the armour should absorb most of it… at least 70%.
This was the difference.
Between ordinary people and the ones who wielded runes.
The man watched in disbelief as the other two goons suddenly convulsed and dropped to the ground, unconscious within minutes.
Lian had already burned through his ether. He slipped to the back of the building before the invisibility faded, then spoke through the communicator, his voice light and almost amused.
"You didn't mention you were bringing friends."
A soft, unsettling laugh followed.
The man froze. Fear crept in.
"…Are you with the Mafia?"
That was the only explanation that made sense.
Outside government or licensed organizations, only the Mafia had access to runes of that level—especially something capable of silently taking down three men without even revealing the user.
Whoever this was… wasn't normal.
At minimum, Sequence 2. Maybe even Sequence 3.
The man raised his head slightly, trying to steady his voice.
"I didn't mean any offence," he said quickly. "They were only here for my protection, not for violence."
Silence.
Lian let the moment stretch.
Pressure built.
Then he spoke again, calm and sharp.
"I changed my mind. Let's renegotiate"
His tone shifted slightly colder.
"Or is your money more important than your life,?"
The man hesitated.
Minutes later, the deal was finalized.
And just like that, Lian took everything the man had on him—ninety-one thousand.
The man left the bag behind and slipped out quietly.
Once Lian confirmed the man had retrieved the three goons and the building was empty again, he picked up the bag and walked away.
Right now, he had something more important in mind.
An upgrade.
Lian had been considering adding an offence rune to his deck. With this amount of money, he could afford it easily.
But this wasn't just about upgrading.
He needed something that could bridge the gap.
Something capable of taking down opponents at Sequence 2… while he was still stuck at Sequence 1.
Lian exhaled slowly.
"Let's play with fire," he muttered.