From Prison To Power

Chapter 002 – Departing Gifts of The King

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The air stood still for a heartbeat—then a wave of sharp gasps erupted from the prisoners like synchronized detonations.

Their eyes widened, their mouths parted, and some even staggered back a step.

They had all heard it. No one in this godforsaken place hadn’t.

Dante Salvatore, the legendary architect of the Crimson Vow Syndicate, was handing over his life's empire... just like that?

Just like that?!

It was lunacy, madness, and unfathomable.

And yet it was real.

Shock turned to disbelief. Disbelief to envy. But strangely enough, the envy wasn’t aimed at Glenn—the young man standing still as stone, his arms lazily folded and gaze impassive.

No.

They envied Dante Salvatore.

Yes. The old devil himself, as though he’d just scored the rarest treasure in existence.

It was an absurd thing to envy the man who was essentially giving away his blood, sweat, and legacy. And yet, they understood.

Oh, they understood too well. Because while he was offering the full weight of his life’s work, what he might receive in return—if Glenn accepted—was something even more valuable: protection, power, and a chance at redemption from the man who was rumored to be untouchable.

This wasn’t a gamble.

It was an investment. And a damn smart one at that.

Silence reigned again, broken only by the subtle grating of chains and shifting feet—until a raspy voice snarled low.

“That cunning, two-faced bastard… always one move ahead of me.”

It came from Jericho Baines, the second most powerful man behind bars, ruler of the prison’s other major faction before Glenn’s appearance.

His teeth clenched so hard his gums paled, and he glared daggers at Dante Salvatore, his nostrils flaring like a provoked bull.

And then—without waiting—Jericho stormed forward.

Before anyone could even blink, he bent into a surprisingly elegant knell before Glenn, his hand offering up a sleek obsidian-black card.

“Master Glenn.” Jericho’s tone was smooth, syrupy, and almost reverent. “This is an Obsidian card. It contains a… modest sum. I hope it assists you a little on the outside.”

Everyone: “…”

Dante Salvatore: “…”

‘Contains a modest amount?’

Their mouths twitched.

The man was a financial juggernaut. If Jericho called it modest, then the rest of them would consider it an imperial treasury.

And just when they thought the spectacle had peaked…

“I would also like to offer you my daughter’s hand in marriage. She is—without exaggeration—one of the top-tier beauties in the entire nation. Elegant, intelligent, and… only slightly younger than you.”

Dead silence.

Dante Salvatore’s temple twitched. ‘Since when did this scheming fossil learn how to suck up with such style! Also, why hadn’t I suggested this first? Only if I also have a daughter!’

Their eyes locked. Sparks practically flew. Somewhere in the air, invisible sabers clashed with fury.

For the first time, Dante regretted having no daughter, knowing that Jericho would definitely get miles ahead of him if Glenn decided to accept his offer.

Meanwhile, the crowd? They looked ready to weep.

‘Damn it! These two old monsters are always first to the pie!’

The rest of the inmates stood there like defeated gamblers. Hopeless, regretful, and wishing they had squirreled away better connections. Maybe if they'd owned a few shares in the outside world, they could’ve also joined the bidding war.

Instead, they were just side characters. Background noise.

But before anyone could groan too loudly—

“I don’t want your bribes,” Glenn said flatly, his voice suddenly slicing the air like a sword. It was cold, blunt, and uncompromising.

Everyone turned to him like he'd grown wings.

Was he crazy? Or just… Glenn?

But after thinking for a second, everyone calmed down. They had known Glenn long enough to know that this was just the kind of person he was, blunt and never moved by anything.

“Master Glenn…”

Both Dante and Jericho called out simultaneously, desperation leaking into their usually confident tones.

“Please acce—”

Glenn raised a single finger, silencing them instantly.

“You,” he pointed at Dante Salvatore, the Crimson Vow's monarch. “Your syndicate… I don’t need it. It belongs to you. And once you’re out of here, what will you have left if you give it up?”

Dante opened his mouth, but Glenn shut him down with a glance.

“And even if I took it,” Glenn scoffed. “I’m not exactly built for running a mafia. Sounds exhausting.”

Dante flushed red, his jaw grinding in frustration.

Not giving a fuck, however, Glenn turned toward Jericho Baines, his eye narrowing.

“As for you… have you forgotten I’m already married?”

Jericho blinked.

Then, Glenn’s tone changed, softer—yet somehow fiercer.

“My wife… no matter how beautiful your daughter is, she wouldn’t even be one percent of my wife’s worth.”

Boom.

That line didn’t just hit—it detonated.

Every jaw dropped, and every eyebrow climbed into the sky. Glenn’s bluntness was a storm, and they were all caught in the winds.

Dante looked like he’d been slapped with a frozen tuna. Jericho's face twisted, caught somewhere between heartbreak and indigestion.

Their dreams of climbing the Glenn ladder were crumbling fast.

But just as disappointment was about to crush them—

“I’ll take this, though,” Glenn muttered, unceremoniously snatching the obsidian card from Jericho’s trembling hand. “Consider it repayment. For all the years I shielded you from the wolves.”

Jericho: “…”

Dante: “…”

Everyone else: “…”

‘He… he accepts the card?’

Jericho blinked like he couldn’t believe it—then abruptly straightened up, his face gleaming with satisfaction and worship.

“THANK YOU, MASTER GLENN!”

Glenn arched a brow.

‘Who the hell thanks someone for robbing them?’

Meanwhile, Dante became anxious, seeing that Glenn had just received one of Jericho’s parting gifts.

He bowed deeply. “You protected me for years, too, master. I would lose sleep knowing I never gave you anything in return!”

Glenn squinted, mulling it over.

“…Fine. But I’m not taking over the syndicate. I’m allergic to paperwork.”

“I…” Dante’s voice cracked.

From the corner of his eye, he caught Jericho’s smug smirk.

His fists instantly clenched, and his soul wept. He had to act fast.

Then—lightbulb.

Dante reached into his coat and pulled out a crimson-gold armband, encrusted with tiny symbols.

“Master Glenn… please accept this. It is the emblem of the Crimson Vow Syndicate. A symbol of authority… and respect.”

Glenn stared at him blankly.

“…You really want to rope me into your mafia soap opera, huh?”

Dante bowed deeply. “I beg you.”

Glenn sighed like a man being forced to eat vegetables.

“…Fine.”

He snatched the armband with a shrug, tossed it into his pocket alongside the black card, then turned on his heel and walked away without another word.

Behind him, Dante grinned in triumph. Jericho cursed under his breath. And the rest of the prisoners looked like orphans watching someone else get adopted—again.