Villain of Fate: The Tyrant System

Chapter 180: A Card, A Choice, A Turning Point

A Card, A Choice, A Turning Point

"It’s nothing, just a small misunderstanding that can be cleared up."

Julian D’Aurelius said it lightly, almost lazily, as if the tension from earlier had never existed. His tone carried that same effortless calm—neither offended nor particularly concerned.

Inside, though—

( Hmm, her attitude is quite nice. )

His golden eyes flicked briefly toward Yana as she straightened from her slight bow.

( I was just planning to expose Lucas for you. )

He leaned back deeper into his seat, fingers idly flipping the page of the magazine he wasn’t really reading.

( But with this attitude... )

A faint smile tugged at his lips, subtle, almost imperceptible.

( I’ll help cure your father’s illness later. )

Yana’s heartbeat skipped.

She kept her posture steady, but her ears were already tuned in, catching every word that didn’t pass his lips.

Julian continued casually—

( The Miracle Medicine Record has a few remedies for paralysis. )

Her pupils shrank slightly.

( After the treatment, your father will be pain-free and relaxed... )

Her breath hitched—just slightly—

( ...and he can even help protect our D’Aurelius household. )

"???"

Yana was both confused and excited.

Her thoughts tangled together like threads pulled too tight.

This guy—

Does he really have a way to cure her father’s legs?

Her gaze lingered on him, searching his expression for any trace of deceit.

But all she saw was... calm.

Too calm.

And then—

Her face flushed faintly.

Pain-free and relaxed?

What kind of strange phrasing was that?

Her lips pressed together.

"This man..." she thought, irritated, "really deserves a beating."

Still—

She couldn’t deny the spark of hope rising in her chest.

So she steadied herself and spoke.

"Then I won’t disturb you any longer, Young Master Julian."

Her tone softened, returning to that composed politeness.

"Here’s my business card. You can add me on Hello Messenger for easy contact if needed."

She extended the card toward him.

Their fingers brushed—just barely—as Julian took it.

A fleeting contact.

But it lingered.

The card was simple, elegant.

Her name.

Her number.

The Tyson Family’s company—one of the well-known security firms in Valemont.

A family built on strength.

On reputation.

On fists that spoke louder than words.

"Alright."

Julian glanced at the card once before slipping it into his pocket.

He looked back at her, brows lifting slightly.

"Didn’t expect you to be this polite after wanting to punch me earlier."

Yana’s eyes narrowed immediately.

"I still do."

A beat.

Then—

"But I don’t hit people who help my father."

Julian chuckled.

"Fair enough."

Then, leaning slightly closer, voice dropping just enough to feel private—

"Try not to hit your benefactor too hard later."

Yana’s cheeks warmed again, annoyance mixing with something else she refused to name.

"Then don’t say things that deserve it."

Their eyes met for a second longer than necessary.

Then she turned and walked away.

But her steps were just slightly slower than before.

—

Once the plane landed in Valemont, Julian didn’t linger.

The moment his feet touched solid ground, his mind shifted gears.

Playtime was over.

Now came preparation.

He headed straight to his family’s antique shop.

The streets of Valemont buzzed with familiar life—vendors shouting, engines humming, people weaving through the city like threads in a tapestry.

But Julian moved through it all with quiet purpose.

The auction would start in a couple of days.

And this time—

He wasn’t going to be a spectator.

He needed to start preparing now.

—

Meanwhile—

After Yana and her father got off the plane, a driver was already waiting.

The black car idled quietly, door already open in silent respect.

"Miss Yana," the driver greeted.

She nodded and helped her father into the car.

Then, without hesitation—

"Take us to Senior Divine Doctor Ravenswood’s clinic."

Her tone left no room for argument.

Wren Tyson frowned.

"Why are we going there?"

His voice carried clear confusion—and faint dissatisfaction.

"Did that Julian kid say something to you? Why believe his nonsense?"

He didn’t like this.

Didn’t like being influenced.

Didn’t like the idea of doubting someone he had already accepted as a benefactor.

And more than anything—

He didn’t like owing another favor.

His pride resisted it instinctively.

Yana didn’t hesitate.

"It’s just a check-up, Dad. Nothing more."

Her voice was calm.

But firm.

Unmovable.

Inside—

She was anything but calm.

Whether there was an issue or not—

They would find out.

Soon.

Wren Tyson looked at her for a long moment.

Then sighed faintly.

He knew that expression.

Once his daughter decided something—

Even he couldn’t change it.

"It’s ... Fine."

The word came reluctantly.

But it came.

------

When they arrived at the clinic, Wren Tyson pushed open the car door and used his arms to lift himself into the wheelchair.

The motion was practiced.

Controlled.

But still—

Heavy.

Each movement carried the quiet weight of someone who once stood at the peak...

and had fallen.

Yana said nothing.

She simply moved behind him and pushed forward.

The clinic stood modest but alive.

People filled the entrance.

A long line stretched outside.

Some looked tired.

Some hopeful.

Some desperate’s.

This place wasn’t just a clinic.

It was a lifeline.

Daily free consultations were offered—

Treatment for those who couldn’t afford it.

Over time, it had angered many.

But also earned deep loyalty.

There had been trouble a before.

But under the protection of the D’Aurelius household—

After a few troublemakers disappeared without explanation—

No one dared cause problems again.

Inside—

The air smelled faintly of herbs and medicine.

Warm.

Grounded.

Alive.

Amara Ravenswood was seated behind a wooden desk, fingers resting lightly on a patient’s wrist.

Her expression was calm.

Focused.

Every breath steady.

A healer in her element.

Then—

Her gaze lifted.

She noticed them.

Recognition flashed instantly.

How could she not remember?

After their last visit—

They had donated ten million Euro.

That money had kept this place running.

Saved lives.

Countless lives.

Her lips curved into a gentle smile.

"Miss Yana..."

Her voice was warm.

"Bringing your Father for a check-up?"