Home / Urban / The Fool's Gold / The 'W' Gold Card
The 'W' Gold Card
Author: Cypborg
last update2024-02-21 21:21:36

Everything was confusing for Sultan, but he knew he needed to sort things out. He hated feeling in the dark or out of the loop, and this situation was muddling his mind. 

To clear his thoughts, he decided to take a moment alone to sort through his thoughts. He made his way to the restroom to get some privacy and peace of mind.

As Sultan stepped toward the restroom door, he heard Jerry call out to him. “Hey, why are you going there? Aren't you supposed to be on your way home or something? Are you planning to spend your whole day here?”

Sultan smiled at this, but it was a smile of feigned convenience rather than a genuine smile. “No, no, I just need to use the restroom,” he said. “And then I'll head home,” he added.

Jerry shrugged. “Oh, okay then. Whatever you need. Just make sure you're not taking too long, okay?”

Sultan nodded in response instead, his mouth dry. He pursed his lips as he turned the knob on the restroom door and walked inside.

Upon getting in, he rested his back against the tiled wall, exhaling in an attempt to calm his pounding heart. In his head, a single thought echoed over and over: ‘Everything's been different since I picked up that card.' 

With that thought in mind, he reached into his pocket and withdrew the purple tarot card once again. Gazing at it, he mumbled, “I don't know what to do with you. I don't even know what you are. But I can't deny that you're some kind of good luck.”

He couldn't even quite put his finger on what it was, exactly, but everything just felt...different, in a good way though.

Just as Sultan had spoken and as if the card heard his words, the image and words on the card began to shift again. The only thing that remained the same was the word, 'The Fool.' 

Instead of the coin, a treasure chest now depicted itself at the front of the card. And the words had transformed into a different message altogether. 

He read the card again, barely daring to believe what he was reading. “The answers you seek, you will get in the treasure heist.” He let out a shaky breath. 'What does that even mean?' he wondered.

Sultan felt like he was at a crossroads. Oh well, definitely he was at a crossroads. The card was telling him something, but he couldn't quite understand what it was. 

The only person who might be able to help him was the man he had met in the desert. He remembered the man's wise words, and he remembered that the man had been telling him something about being ‘The Fool’. But how could he reach the man again?

But just as Sultan was trying to make sense of all this, he heard a different voice in his head, a voice that seemed to come from his subconscious. “Why are you still wondering about that? You already know the answer! All you have to do is toss the card in the air again, like you did before. And then - poof! You'll be right there, in front of the man again!”

“Ugh!” Sultan groaned, annoyed, and then he replied to his subconsciousness, saying out loud, "Can you stop talking? Did I ask you? Busybody!"

Sultan groaned again but this time, in frustration. "Why am I talking to myself?" he muttered. "I'm starting to sound like a crazy person!" He felt silly for having carried on such a one-sided conversation with himself, and he started to wonder if he needed to see a doctor.

He groaned yet again and muttered under his breath, “Oh, God. I'm just going to forget about all this. I'll just put it at the back of my mind.” 

With that, he opened the door of the restroom and walked out, making sure to slip the tarot card back into his pocket as he went.

Just as Sultan was almost out of the restroom area, he decided to try to forget everything that had happened. But the weight of the tarot card in his pocket which didn't feel normal for a weight of a normal paper card, kept twitching. It was as if it was physically tugging at him, reminding him that the whole experience had been real.

Though, he did his best to dismiss the whole experience as a trick of the light or an overactive imagination. But deep down, he knew that what he had experienced couldn't be explained away by natural means. Something otherworldly was happening, and he couldn't shake the feeling that it was only just beginning.

As Sultan rounded the corner of the restaurant, he nearly collided with another person. He let out a startled exclamation and jumped back, clutching his chest, “Oh, my God!”

The man who he almost bumped into was dressed in a sharp navy shade of blue suit that exuded an air of sophistication. Sultan couldn't help but wonder, “Is his suit a brand of Gucci, Versace, or what?”

Sultan was struck with a sudden sense of his own insignificance. He was just a regular guy, while the man before him was clearly a member of the city's elite. 

In a city as this one, City M, it was customary to defer to the rich and powerful, to bend over backwards to accommodate their every whim. Sultan knew that he was at the bottom of the social ladder, and that this man was high above him.

“I'm so sorry sir for my intrusion in your walk.” Sultan kept his head bowed and began to apologize profusely, as if begging for forgiveness. To his surprise, the man just laughed and said, "It's alright. No harm done." 

With that, the man turned and walked away. Sultan stood there, dumbfounded, as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. Was the man really that forgiving? Or was he not an elite?

Sultan couldn't help but blurt out to himself, "Well, this elite is quite pleasant, unlike those rude wealthy individuals who act as if they own the world." 

However, as Sultan glanced down, something caught his eye: the man's gold card, lying on the floor like a forgotten treasure.

Immediately, Sultan felt a sense of duty to return the man's card, and called out to him. But there was no response. The man had long gone. 

Sultan stood there, frozen, unsure of what to do next. He hesitated to go after the man, knowing the risks involved in possessing an item belonging to the wealthy. Should he leave the card on the ground or chase after the man? Fearful of potential accusations of theft, Sultan pondered his next move carefully.

Afterwards, while pondering the situation, Sultan felt a light nudge in his pocket. He sighed and muttered under his breath, "Not now, not now. Please stop doing this." 

He was fully aware that the "thing" he was talking to was the tarot card, which seemed to be growing more and more sentient by the minute. However, he couldn't let that distract him from his current dilemma which was how to find the man who had left the gold card behind.

Determined to do just that, Sultan headed towards the restaurant's exit, retracing the path the man had taken. 

As he was about to step outside, he saw Jerry coming towards him. Without missing a beat, Sultan said, "Hey, Jerry! Sorry, but I've got to head home for now. I'll see you at the party tonight."

Jerry smiled and replied, "You got it, Champ! See you there!" And then, as an afterthought, he added, "Oh, and by the way, the party's at 8 p.m. sharp!" 

Sultan confirmed the time and said his goodbyes. "Yes, yes, 8 p.m. See you there. Take care, Jerry." And with that, he headed out the door.

As Sultan made his way outside, he racked his brain for any information that might help him find the man. The problem was, he didn't know the man's name, nor did the gold card have any identifying details on it - just a large letter "W" printed in gold. 

Sultan had no idea what that meant, but he knew he had to find the man somehow and return his card.

Meanwhile, in another part of the city, a towering glass-and-steel skyscraper loomed over the streets below. Within its walls, in a dimly lit office, a man sat alone at his desk. The only light came from the glow of his computer monitor, which reflected off his body's back view.

The silence in the office was broken by the shrill ringing of the man's phone. He reached for it without hesitation and answered, "Hello, who is speaking?" 

Although his back was turned to the rest of the office, and he appeared to be focused on the view of the city outside the window, anyone could tell that he was a man of wealth and power. 

The furnishings of his office reflected his status, from the sleek, modern desk to the paintings that adorned the walls.

After a moment's pause, the man spoke again. "I'll be expecting Master Watson soon then, and I'd like you to do everything in your power to track down that card and apprehend whoever has it." 

As he spoke, his gaze remained fixed on the city below. His voice was calm and measured, but there was a sense of urgency in his words. He clearly wanted the matter at which he had at hand resolved as soon as possible.

Continue to read this book for free
Scan the code to download the app

Latest Chapter

  • The Armstrongs (1)

    The room was dark, the only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioner, and Sultan could still feel his pulse racing from the nightmare. He muttered under his breath, "Damn it…"Sultan shifted in bed, the sheets rustling as he pushed himself up to sit at the edge. His hand ran through his hair, now damp with sweat. He could still feel the weight of the dream, the shadows of the four figures lingering in his mind. Their accusations, the way they chased him, it all felt too real. It was as if they were trying to pull him back into something he desperately wanted to escape from."Forgotten... forsaken… what the hell does it even mean?" He muttered, rubbing his face with his palms. The clock on the nightstand showed 6:15 AM. He hadn’t planned on waking up this early, but after that dream, there was no chance of going back to sleep. He got up, his feet making soft thuds on the carpet as he moved to the window. Pulling the curtains apart, he was met with the dull light of dawn. The

  • Nightmare - Forsaken Son

    Darkness clung to Sultan like a thick fog as he found himself standing in the middle of an unfamiliar place. He couldn’t tell if it was night or day—the sky was a dull, ashen gray, and the air was still, oppressive, as if the world itself were holding its breath. Around him, shadows loomed, shifting and twisting, never settling into anything recognizable.Sultan’s breath quickened, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t sure how he had ended up here or why, but something about this place gnawed at the edges of his mind, a whisper of fear that he couldn’t quite shake. The ground beneath his feet was cold, hard, and unyielding, and every step he took seemed to echo into the void.He started walking, not sure where he was going, but driven by an urgent need to move. His footsteps were the only sound, the silence around him thick and stifling. As he moved forward, the shadows seemed to part slightly, revealing a narrow path ahead. It wound through what appeared to be an endless exp

  • The Shadow In The Armstrong's Den

    The road to a certain destination was long and winding, flanked by dense forests that seemed to close in around the narrow path. The man walked with a deliberate pace, his steps heavy with the weight of memories that he couldn’t shake. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the only sound was the steady crunch of leaves underfoot.As the road twisted and turned, the destination finally came into view, nestled at the end of the valley. "Armstrong's Den," the man blurted out.The house stood like a forgotten sentinel, its once-grand façade now weathered by time. Vines clung to the walls, and the windows, some broken, others covered in dust, gazed out like the hollow eyes of a weary sentinel. The man hesitated at the edge of the clearing, his gaze fixed on the house that seemed to hold all the answers he had been seeking.Without a word, he moved forward, crossing the worn cobblestone path that led to the front door. The creaking of the floorboards under his feet

  • Shadow In The Woods

    (SOMEWHERE IN THE WOODS)..It was a typical late afternoon in the sleepy little town of Thornwood, where the world seemed to move just a touch slower. The summer sun was beginning its descent, casting long, lazy shadows across the winding dirt road that led out of town and into the thick, endless stretch of woods that bordered the northern edge of the county. The locals called it the “Dark Forest,” though it had no official name. It was a place that everyone knew of but few dared to explore.Today, the forest was quiet, as it usually was, save for the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant cry of a bird. The air was thick with the scent of pine and earth, and the light filtered through the dense canopy above, painting the forest floor in a patchwork of gold and shadow.As the day edged closer to dusk, the quiet was broken by the crunch of gravel underfoot. A man, dressed in a worn leather jacket and faded jeans, walked slowly down the old road that cut through the forest. His

  • Dine For Marriage (2)

    The room, still warm with the remnants of their earlier conversation, felt charged with an undercurrent of something unspoken, something that Sultan had already perceived.For Sultan was no ordinary man. Known to many as the fool—a title that masked the depth of his true abilities—he had honed his skills to an art. And today, as Mr. Dickson sat across from him, discussing marriage and the future of the Watson family, Sultan’s mind was elsewhere, reaching into the recesses of Dickson's thoughts, peeling back the layers of his intentions.In an instant, Sultan saw it clearly: Mr. Dickson's visit had little to do with genuine concern for the Watsons or their company's future. It was about positioning. The recent collaborations with Lin Enterprise and Sullivan, the President's son, had solidified the Watsons’ place on the path to immense power and influence. Mr. Dickson, ever the opportunist, was angling for a deeper slice of that pie—one that could only be secured through family ties. H

  • Dine For Marriage (1)

    The morning sun poured gently through the tall windows of the Watson estate, casting a warm glow over the meticulously set dining table. The table was adorned with fine china, polished silverware, and an array of breakfast dishes—freshly baked bread, fruits, eggs, and other delights, arranged with care by the household staff. Mr. and Mrs. Watson were already seated, exchanging quiet words as they waited for their sons and their guest to join them."Everything looks perfect," Mrs. Watson remarked, her eyes scanning the table with approval."It certainly does," Mr. Watson agreed, a hint of pride in his voice. "But it’s not the food that matters today. It’s eating with our sons."As they spoke, one of the bodyguards entered the room, standing tall by the door. "Mr. Dickson has arrived," he announced."Thank you. Please show him in," Mr. Watson instructed.A moment later, Mr. Dickson entered the dining room, his presence as imposing as ever. Dressed in a tailored suit, he moved with the

More Chapter
Explore and read good novels for free
Free access to a vast number of good novels on MegaNovel app. Download the books you like and read anywhere & anytime.
Read books for free on the app
Scan code to read on App