"Take him to the guest room," Dylan ordered, his tone sharp but satisfied.
Two of the gang members grabbed Rodey by the arms and dragged him down the long corridor. His mind raced faster than his footsteps — Why did Dylan call my father his friend? What debt was he talking about? Why does he know so much Hussain never told me?
It wasn't a cell. Instead, the chamber looked too refined for captivity — velvet curtains, polished wood floors, even a chandelier. Yet the heavy lock behind him made one thing clear: this was no luxury stay.
And he wasn't alone.
Deniz Loadargo, a young man with white hair and blue eyes strolled in, munching on chips stood there, leaning lazily against the carved oak table. His posture was relaxed, but his sharp eyes told a different story.
"Name's Deniz Loadargo," he said, grinning as if the room already belonged to him. "Jack of Cards."
"So…" Deniz's lips curved into a sly smirk. "You're the one Dylan is calling Joker. And soon-to-be husband of Alikae."
Rodey froze at her name. Deniz's smirk deepened, but his jaw tightened with something raw — jealousy.
"She's… beautiful. The kind of woman no one forgets," Deniz continued, his voice lower now, almost bitter. "And Dylan's giving her to you?" He slammed his palm on the table, making the chandelier above shiver. "You've barely stepped foot here, Flash's boy. You don't deserve her."
Rodey straightened his shoulders, his wrists still sore from the ropes. His voice was steady but edged with heat.
"Listen, Deniz," he said firmly. "Alikae isn't some prize. She's not a jewel to be displayed, or a trophy to fight over. She's a woman — her own person. You don't occupy a woman."
Deniz blinked at him for a moment. Then, to Rodey's surprise, he threw his head back and laughed. A sharp, rich laugh that echoed off the chandeliered ceiling.
"Hah! You really are something, Flash's son," Deniz said, wiping a tear from his eye. "So noble. So righteous. Don't get me wrong — I admire that fire." He leaned in closer, grin widening. "But relax. I don't care if she marries you or anyone else. Honestly, I'm happy for you both."
Rodey's brow furrowed. "Happy…?"
Deniz shrugged, suddenly casual. "Yeah. You think I want to waste my youth chained to one woman? Please. The world is full of faces, full of beauty, full of chances. Alikae is gorgeous, sure, but she's not the only star in the sky. Why should I settle for one when I can have the whole night?"
There was something unsettling in the way Deniz said it — not anger, not envy, but a kind of playful arrogance. He wasn't lying; he truly didn't care about marrying Alikae.
What he cared about was something deeper.
And Rodey couldn't shake the feeling that this man, behind the smirks and laughter, was far more dangerous than he looked.
Deniz leaned back against the polished wall, arms crossed, his smirk never fading. He looked Rodey up and down as if studying him for sport.
"You know, Flash's son," he began, "if I were in your place, I'd probably have gone mad already."
Rodey narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
Deniz tilted his head, his grin sharpening. "Think about it. In just one day, you've been beaten, tied, thrown into Dylan's game, almost lost your life, and—oh, right—you're suddenly engaged to the daughter of the underworld king. If I didn't know better, I'd say it sounds like some writer somewhere just threw all his rage onto the poor main character, piling every bit of misery on his back."
Rodey blinked, caught off guard. Deniz chuckled. "Like, seriously — tragedy, betrayal, revelations, forced marriage? That's way too much drama for a single day. Almost… unbelievable."
Then he suddenly straightened, his smile slipping away. "Relax, I'm kidding." He tapped his chest lightly. "Just a joke. Don't glare at me like that."
But his tone shifted as he leaned closer, voice lowering, eyes gleaming with something sharper than humor.
"Still… there's something you need to know. Something no one else will tell you so easily."
Rodey's jaw tensed. "And what's that?"
Deniz's grin returned, though thinner this time. "The truth about this little family of cards you've just been forced into. The hierarchy. The power structure. The thing that makes Dylan's empire unshakable. If you're going to survive, Joker-boy… you'd better understand the deck you're about to be played in."
Deniz ripped open a silver packet of branded chips, the kind only spoiled rich brats kept around for fun, and popped one in his mouth with a crunch loud enough to make Rodey's jaw twitch.
"Alright, Flash Jr.," he said between bites, "lesson one of this circus your dear old dad's friend built." He dusted crumbs off his jacket and gestured for Rodey to follow.
They stepped out into a balcony overlooking a wide courtyard. Dozens of men and women moved like ants below—patrolling, whispering, watching every shadow.
Deniz pointed with his chip as though giving a casual tour. "These guys down there? They're the Numbers. All of them. Doesn't matter if you're a Two or a Nine—same damn category. Minions, pawns, guards, watchers. They're the blood that keeps Dylan's empire breathing."
Rodey frowned. "So… a Two and a Nine, no difference?"
"Nope," Deniz said, shaking his head, munching another chip. "Only thing that matters is who commands them. In the hierarchy, they're like sand. Replaceable. Disposable. You know how Dylan sees them? Heh—like chips." He held one up, then tossed it over the railing, watching it fall. "Plenty in the bag, so losing one doesn't matter."
Below, a group of guards shifted their rifles, as if they knew they were being mocked but couldn't say a word.
Rodey's fists clenched at his sides. "And they just accept that?"
Deniz smirked. "Oh, they don't just accept it, Flash-boy. They live for it. That's the sick joke. You call it slavery, they call it loyalty. These Numbers? They'd throw their bodies into fire just to shield someone ranked higher. That's what Dylan drilled into them. They're not people anymore… they're cards in his deck. Play one, discard one. No one bats an eye."
Rodey's jaw tightened. "Spies, too?"
"Yep," Deniz said, licking salt from his fingers. "Guards, hitmen, informants, snitches—you'll find them all in the Numbers. The lowest breed, but the widest net. The whole empire rests on their backs."
He leaned close, his grin sharp. "So remember this, doc: before you even dream of reaching the Ace, or the Fool, or even Joker… you'll be standing shoulder to shoulder with them. Bleeding like them. Dying like them."
Rodey didn't reply. He only stared at the courtyard below, where every Number moved with clockwork obedience, faceless in their devotion.
And for the first time since Dylan's words, Rodey felt the real weight of the empire he'd been forced into.
Deniz crumpled the empty chip packet and flicked it over the balcony like trash. "Alright, now let's climb the ladder."
He tapped his own chest with a lazy smirk.
"The lowest rank above those Numbers is Jack. That's me."
Rodey raised a brow. "Lowest above them? And you're proud?"
Deniz laughed, a careless, sharp sound. "Hell yeah, I'm proud. Jack is freedom, my friend. The Kings need to rule, the Queens need to think, the Aces need to fight… but the Jack?" He spread his arms, almost theatrically. "The Jack gets to command without doing much himself. Power without paperwork. Laziness with authority. And in this bloody system, I'll take that any day."
Rodey's eyes narrowed. "So you just… order others to bleed for you?"
"Exactly," Deniz grinned, unbothered. "Why swing the blade when you've got ten Numbers ready to slit a throat for you?"
He leaned against the marble railing, dropping his tone to something more serious.
"Above us Jacks comes the Queen. Don't let the name fool you—it's not about gender. A Queen's just the bridge between Kings and Jacks. They're like… advisors, strategists. The 'mind' behind the throne. A King rules, but a Queen whispers how."
Rodey muttered, "So they're manipulators."
Deniz chuckled. "Exactly. Manipulators with style."
He took a pause, his eyes glinting as if savoring the next revelation.
"Then comes the King. Now we're talking real power. Each King rules over a suit. Four of them, four domains of the underworld."
He ticked them off on his fingers one by one:
"Clubs—that's money. All the black deals, the laundering, the gold rivers that keep Dylan's empire fed.
Diamonds—pleasure. Drugs, women, gambling dens… every vice you can sell to human weakness.
Spears—power. Guns, armies, street control, warlords in shiny suits.
Hearts—public relations. Politicians, police, judges… the puppets dancing for us in daylight."
Deniz straightened his collar, his smirk returning. "Four Kings, four thrones. Each deadly in their own way. They keep the empire breathing, while the Queens make sure their brains don't rot, and the Jacks…" He tapped his own chest again. "…keep everyone else in line."
Rodey's chest felt heavier with each word.
The scale of the empire was bigger than he imagined. This wasn't just gangs. This was infrastructure.
Deniz's grin sharpened. "And above them, well… that's a story for another chip packet."
Deniz leaned forward, lowering his voice as though the walls themselves might be listening. For the first time since he started his grand lecture, the grin slipped from his face.
"Now… everything I told you so far, anyone in the gang knows. Numbers, Jacks, Queens, Kings—open knowledge. The visible chain of command."
Rodey tilted his head. "And above the Kings?"
Deniz's eyes narrowed. He reached into his pocket, pulling another shiny chip packet, tearing it open slowly as if to buy himself time. When he finally spoke, his tone carried weight.
"Above Kings, there are Aces."
He tossed a chip into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Aces are the seekers. They're not rulers, they're not thugs—they're the balance keepers. Imagine the Kings fighting over territory, money, or blood. Imagine a hitman killing the wrong target. Imagine the police sniffing too close. It's the Aces who decide what happens next. Who gets paid off. Which body gets buried. Which cop gets a new car, and which journalist goes missing."
Rodey's stomach turned. "So they're the ones who decide what's fair… in this madness?"
Deniz smirked bitterly. "Fair? No. Balanced. There's no justice in their world, Flash-boy. Only control."
He dusted his hands and leaned closer, voice dropping lower.
"Above even the Aces… come the Fools."
Rodey raised a brow. "Fools?"
Deniz laughed once, humorless. "Don't be fooled by the name. They're not idiots. They're the stepping stones to the Joker. Bodyguards, shadows, shields. The Fools live only to protect the one above them, and if need be, they'll burn themselves alive to keep the Joker untouchable. To them, death isn't failure—it's duty."
Rodey's pulse quickened. "And the Joker?"
Deniz's expression shifted, for once completely serious. "The Joker is… different. He doesn't just rule. He cleanses."
Rodey frowned. "Cleanses?"
"The Joker's job," Deniz said slowly, "is to find the defective pieces. The corrupt Kings, the disloyal Queens, the lazy Jacks… the Numbers that rot the structure. He removes them. Cuts them out like a surgeon. Then he replaces them with someone better. That's why the Joker is feared more than Dylan himself. Because anyone, no matter their rank, can be erased overnight."
A chill crawled up Rodey's spine. The word "cleanse" echoed in his mind like a blade being sharpened.
Deniz leaned back, crunching another chip, his grin returning faintly. "That's the deck, doc. From Numbers to Joker. A kingdom of cards built on blood. And now…" He tilted his head mockingly. "…you're in the game."
Rodey didn't answer. His fists tightened, his jaw locked. Somewhere deep in his chest, anger swelled like a storm.
And for the first time, he understood: this wasn't just Dylan's empire. It was a machine—a perfect, brutal deck of cards.
And he had just been placed in it.
Deniz's grin curved as they kept walking through the polished halls. His voice dropped again, turning almost like a whisper of forbidden truth.
"And the Joker…" he said, drawing the word out, "is more than just a rank. He's omnipresent. At least, in Dylan's eyes. No one really knows what lies above the Fools. Some say nothing exists there. Some say the Joker answers to no one—not even Dylan. That he's the top of the pyramid, the one shadow Dylan himself bows to."
Rodey stared at him, searching for a lie. "And you believe that?"
Deniz shrugged, popping another chip into his mouth. "I think it's just a story. Dylan's way of keeping the deck scared and obedient. But…" He flicked the chip packet into a corner. "Every story starts from something, right? Some people swear Dylan started this empire with a Joker by his side. A partner. But one day, the Joker vanished… and Dylan was left holding the throne alone."
His words lingered like smoke in the air. Rodey's chest felt heavier. Omnipresent. Partner. Left behind.
They turned a corner—and suddenly two guards in black suits appeared, blocking their path.
"Mr. Flash," one of them said stiffly. "The boss calls for you. Now."
Deniz groaned loudly, rolling his eyes. "Tch. Always him. Always Dylan."
One guard stepped closer, reaching for Rodey's arm. In an instant, Deniz's boot shot up, smashing across the man's face. The guard staggered, blood flying, but not a single hand raised in retaliation.
"See?" Deniz barked with a laugh, pointing at the fallen man. "They're Fools! Don't even fight back unless Dylan breathes on their neck. Pathetic."
The other guard didn't flinch, only repeated with calm ice, "The boss wants Flash. Don't waste time."
Rodey glanced sideways at Deniz—there it was, the crack in his grin. Jealousy. Sharp and bitter, glinting in his eyes.
Deniz forced a smirk. "Looks like Daddy Dylan likes you more than me already."
The guards seized Rodey firmly, dragging him forward through the echoing hallways.
Finally, they stopped at the great dining hall. The oak doors opened with a groan, revealing Dylan seated at the long polished table, wine glass in hand.
And across from him, seated stiffly with her wrists clenched, was Alikae.
Her eyes were red, glowing with anger, but her jawline was sharp with defiance.
The doors shut behind Rodey with a final thud.
The lights above flickered.
And then—black.