Pampering Discarded Heroines Triggers My 10,000x Rebate System

Evren sat alone in his private study, looking at the glowing red countdown timer in his field of vision:

[SYSTEM LOCKDOWN ACTIVE — UNLOCK TIME REMAINING: 47 HOURS, 12 MINUTES]

With his bank accounts and VIP cards completely frozen, Evren couldn’t access a single penny of his $168.59 million fortune.

However, panicking was useless. Evren leaned back in his leather chair, taking a slow, steady breath as his mind went to work.

’The System froze my digital accounts and credit lines,’ Evren analyzed calmly. ’It cannot freeze physical assets stored in reality.’

Evren tapped his Spatial Storage Ring.

With a soft flicker of spatial mana, a scuffed, black leather pouch dropped onto the desk.

It was Prescott’s Spatial Supply Pouch, dropped in pure terror on Glacial Peak when Prescott fled using his emergency escape crystal.

Evren touched the pouch, only for a faint, glowing red rune to push back against his fingers. It was Prescott’s personal blood-lock seal.

Evren sneered faintly. He channeled a surge of his S-Rank Valkyrie mana directly into the pouch.

CRACK!

The blood-lock rune shattered like fragile glass.

Evren tipped the pouch over, emptying its contents onto the desk.

Three distinct items tumbled out:

First was a thick stack of anonymous, high-denomination Metropolis Bearer Bonds worth $5,000,000.00.

Second was a velvet pouch containing twenty uncut, high-grade mana diamonds commonly used for high-tier guild bribery, appraised at roughly $5,000,000.00.

The third one was a black titanium key engraved with a skull insignia and the number #77... an encrypted VIP locker key to the private underground vault at the Shadow-Bazaar.

Evren recognised the skull insignia almost immediately.

During his three years working as a food delivery courier across the metropolis, Evren had learned every dark alleyway, back door, and street rumor in the city.

Delivery riders often traded whispers about strange, late-night high-roller traffic and black-tinted armored sedans vanishing behind the abandoned meatpacking warehouse in Sector 1.

Everyone in the courier network knew the entrance to the city’s infamous black market was hidden there, but without an authenticated Umbra Syndicate key or high-tier token, ordinary people were turned away at gunpoint.

"Prescott’s personal slush fund," he murmured with a glint in his eyes.

Prescott had obviously spent years embezzling funds and hoarding illicit wealth from Prescott Guild’s raid expeditions, stashing it in the city’s underground black market where tax authorities and guild auditors couldn’t track it.

Evren packed the bonds and diamonds into his Spatial Storage Ring and slipped the black titanium key into his pocket.

He didn’t take a car. Driving a luxury vehicle to a notorious underworld district would only draw unnecessary eyes.

Instead, Evren pulled on a dark hooded coat that concealed his face, walked out of the penthouse, and took the private VIP elevator down to the ground floor.

Exiting through the quiet side alley of Apex Plaza, Evren blended into the midnight shadows.

With his S-Rank Valkyrie Body Forge, a brisk jog carried him through the quiet streets at incredible speed, covering the miles to Sector 1 in under twenty minutes without breaking a sweat.

It was 2:00 AM when Evren arrived at the rusted freight elevator behind the abandoned meatpacking warehouse.

He pressed the black titanium key against the iron scanner beside the gate.

CLICK.

The steel platform groaned to life and descended deep beneath the city into the lantern-lit underworld of the Shadow-Bazaar... the city’s largest black market, which was run by the ruthless Umbra Syndicate.

Dressed in his dark coat, Evren stepped off the platform, passing two heavily armed B-Rank enforcers standing guard at the iron gates.

The underground market was bustling with shady figures: rogue Awakeners, black-market alchemists, and guild fixers trading contraband under dim lantern light.

Evren walked straight to the reinforced steel doors of the Umbra Vault Sector.

He handed the black titanium key #77 to the goblin-faced vault clerk behind the bulletproof glass.

The clerk scanned the key, bowing slightly. "Vault seventy-seven. Follow me, sir."

Moments later, the mechanical door of Vault #77 swung open.

Inside sat a reinforced titanium chest. Evren popped the latch, revealing stacks of unregistered gold bullion bars and bearer certificates.

Evren quickly tallied the contents: $10,000,000.00 in cold, anonymous assets.

Combined with the $10M from Prescott’s pouch, Evren now had $20,000,000.00.

He still needed $25,000,000.00 to reach the $45M settlement.

Evren exited the vault sector and walked into the grand trading hall of The Obsidian Exchange, where master craftsmen and high-ranking guild appraisers bought rare monster materials.

Evren approached the VIP appraisal counter, where a gray-bearded master blacksmith named Master Tridon sat inspecting a dragon-scale dagger.

"What do you have, cloaked friend?" Master Tridon asked without looking up. "I don’t waste time on trash below B-Rank."

Evren didn’t say a word.

He waved his hand over the reinforced appraisal scale.

CLATTER!

Two massive, four-foot Wyvern ice fangs slammed onto the scale, releasing waves of freezing blue mist. Next to them, he placed a bundle of glistening glacial dragon sinew, fifty perfect frost-fang scales, a C-Rank frost-wolf alpha core, and eight D-Rank cores.

The air in the trading booth dropped ten degrees in an instant.

Master Tridon dropped his magnifying glass as his jaw fell open in utter disbelief.

"T-This... this is fresh S-Rank Ice Wyvern material?!" Master Tridon gasped, his trembling hands hovering over the fangs. "The dragon sinew is intact... the scales haven’t lost a single drop of frost mana! Where did you get this?!"

"Are you buying, or asking questions?" Evren asked using a deep, disguised voice.

"Buying! I’m buying!" Master Tridon shouted in excitement. "For the two S-Rank fangs, the dragon sinew, the fifty scales, and the beast cores... I can offer fifteen million dollars in certified bearer drafts right now."

Evren sneered coldly from under his hood.

Without a word of debate, he reached out and swept one of the massive Wyvern fangs back toward his Spatial Storage Ring.

"Wait! What are you doing?!" Master Tridon shouted in alarm.

"Fifteen million for Level 45 dragon-type materials that can forge two S-Rank divine armaments?" Evren asked in a chillingly calm tone. "You’re treating me like an amateur. I’ll take my business to the Obsidian Pavilion in Sector 2."

"Hold on! Don’t pack them!" Master Tridon panicked, waving his hands frantically. "Eighteen million! That’s my highest..."

"Twenty-five million, or I walk right now," Evren cut him off coldly, resting his hand on the dragon sinew.

Master Tridon’s beard twitched in agony. He stared at the glowing S-Rank fangs, knowing he would make an astronomical fortune forging them into legendary guild weapons.

"Twenty million!" Master Tridon begged through gritted teeth. "Twenty million dollars in Metropolis Central Bank bearer drafts! That is every single penny of liquidity in my vault today!"

Evren paused for two seconds, then nodded calmly. "Deal."

Master Tridon quickly authorized the transfer, handing Evren three five-million-dollar certified drafts.

Running Total: $40,000,000.00.

He was still $5,000,000.00 short.

Evren walked into the private executive office of Director Graves of the Umbra Syndicate, the underworld financial broker who managed high-roller liquidity.

With a flick of his Spatial Storage Ring, Evren retrieved the official corporate ownership certificates for his 51% controlling stake in DashExpress and the fleet assets of Apex Logistics & Security, setting them on the desk.

"I need a five-million-dollar emergency bridge loan for forty-eight hours," Evren stated calmly from beneath his hood. "These corporate assets are worth over twenty-five million. I will repay five point five million in two days."

Director Gus picked up the gold-embossed certificates, his eyes widening slightly as he read the name and corporate seals.

"So..." Gus chuckled softly, leaning back in his leather chair with a curious look in his sharp eyes. "You’re the mysterious young chairman the city’s upper circles have been whispering about all week."

Gus leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk to probe. "A man who controls the city’s largest courier network and just founded Apex Guild... why does a rising billionaire like you need an emergency midnight bridge loan from the Umbra Syndicate?"

"It’s for an off-the-books transaction, and it’s none of your business," Evren replied flatly. "It’s a forty-eight-hour short loan backed by clean collateral. Are we doing business, Gus, or should I take my deeds to another broker?"

Gus stared into the darkness beneath Evren’s hood for three silent seconds, feeling the subtle, suffocating aura of an apex predator.

A wide, respectful grin spread across Gus’s face.

"I like a man who gets straight to the point," Gus said, stamping the high-roller bridge agreement. "Five million dollars advanced."

Ten minutes later, the Umbra Syndicate consolidated all of Evren’s cash, gold, and drafts into a single, official document:

A $45,000,000.00 Metropolis Central Bank Certified Cashier’s Draft, guaranteed by the central financial authority and payable immediately upon presentation.

Evren stored the gold-sealed draft securely inside his Spatial Storage Ring.

He checked his phone as he stepped back onto the freight elevator.

It was 3:45 AM.

Evren returned to the Crown Penthouse under the cover of darkness, quietly checking on Amber before catching a few hours of rest.

By 9:00 AM, Evren was showered, refreshed, and dressed in clean casual clothes... a fitted black crewneck and dark trousers, heading out to finalize the acquisition.

—

At 7:30 AM, sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls of the Crown Penthouse.

Evren was at the kitchen island, boiling fresh water for tea and preparing a light breakfast for Amber when his phone started vibrating frantically on the marble countertop.

BZZZZT. BZZZZT.

He looked at the caller ID on his cracked screen: Wealth Manager Mikay.

Evren tapped the screen, bringing the phone to his ear. "Mikay, what’s going on?" he asked calmly.

Mikay’s trembling, panicked voice came through the receiver: "Chairman Evren... we have a catastrophe."

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