The Monarch Crown System

7. The Audacious Hospital Owner

Elias stood frozen as the glowing interface hovered before him, the strange tattoo still burning faintly on his arm. The disembodied voice thundered again, reverberating through his skull as though the walls themselves were speaking.

“Your singular purpose is to command every resource, every influence, and every hidden power within the Monarch Crown System. All who are bound to this system will kneel before your authority.”

Elias blinked rapidly, shaking his head in disbelief.

“This… this can’t be real,” he whispered. “I must be delirious. I’m imagining things—”

But the voice boomed louder, overriding every attempt he made to ground himself in reality.

“Each time you spend ten billion dollars, a new tier of authority and strength unlocks. Wealth is the fuel of your ascension. The more you spend… the more unstoppable you become.”

Elias stared blankly at the glowing panel, his chest tightening.

“To begin your inheritance: ten billion dollars has been transferred to your account.”

A sharp ding pierced the room.

Elias looked down at his phone lying beside the bed, screen lit with a fresh notification. His heartbeat stuttered.

$10,000,000,000.00

Ten. Billion. Dollars.

His jaw slackened. The numbers didn’t move. They didn’t glitch. They didn’t disappear. They just sat there, mocking every struggle he had endured his entire life.

Before he could even swallow his shock, the door swung open with a violent crash.

A squad of men in crisp black suits stormed the room—faces stern, movements sharp, scans sweeping the area. Elias stumbled backward as they barreled past him like he was invisible.

“No, no, no—!” one of them groaned, slamming his fist into the wall. “We missed it!”

“The old master… he’s gone.” Another dropped to his knees beside the lifeless elderly man. “We failed him.”

Elias’ confusion deepened. Whoever these men were, they clearly knew the old man—and had been expecting something from him.

“The Monarch Crown…” one whispered, eyes widening. “It’s been transferred.”

Transferred.

Straight to him.

A cold rush of panic shot through Elias’ veins. He tightened his grip on his handrail and backed away slowly.

Then—he ran.

It wasn’t until he reached the stairwell that he realized something impossible.

The pain that had shredded him minutes ago… the agony in his ribs… the bruising… the bleeding…

Gone.

He could move without wincing. He could breathe without coughing blood. He could even run.

“What is happening to me?”

He didn’t have time to question it. Behind him, the men’s frantic shouts echoed through the hospital corridors.

“Find him!”

“The successor was here!”

“He escaped—track every exit!”

“Recover the system before he spends a single cent!”

Elias forced himself to keep moving, descending flight after flight until he reached the reception area.

He approached the front desk, but the receptionist didn’t even bother masking her irritation. She shoved his file aside like it was trash.

“Yeah, no,” she said flatly. “I can’t deal with you right now.”

Elias blinked. “I—what? I have urgent tests. The doctors need the results for my surgery—”

But she was already smiling sweetly at the well-dressed man who’d stepped up behind Elias, her tone instantly switching to sugary respect.

“Right this way, sir. Please, have a seat.”

Elias felt something pinch his chest—not physically, but emotionally. Fatigue, humiliation, rejection. The same things he had been experiencing for years.

“I was here first,” he insisted, trying to keep his voice steady. “Please. I’m scheduled for—”

The receptionist laughed loudly, drawing the attention of several staff members.

“Oh, look at this! Park Woojin’s former charity case is asking for priority.” The receptionist sneered. “Elias, don’t embarrass yourself.”

He froze.

“And what illness are you even faking today?” she added mockingly. “You look perfectly healthy. Not a single bruise. Not a cough. Amazing how quickly a scammer recovers.”

A ripple of laughter erupted behind the desk.

“Yeah, didn’t your little scheme get exposed?” another nurse smirked. “The donations you stole from people? Shameful.”

“You’re bold coming here in your hospital gown,” someone else chimed in. “Trying to film more footage for sympathy?”

Their voices blended into a cruel chorus.

Elias swallowed hard, because the worst part was… they weren’t entirely wrong. He did look healthy now. Too healthy. His skin looked rejuvenated, glowing even. His posture no longer sagged from weakness.

The crowd in the lobby shifted, angrier faces turning toward him as murmurs spread.

“That’s the guy!”

“The scammer!”

“Kick him out!”

“Teach him a lesson!”

Just as fists began to rise, a new presence swept into the reception area—smooth, confident, arrogant.

A young man in a tailored suit strutted in with two bulky bodyguards behind him, his expression dripping with entitlement.

“What’s happening here?” he demanded.

The receptionist immediately bowed her head.

“Master Jeron! Thank goodness you’re here. This man is causing a disturbance and preventing real patients from getting help.”

Jeron turned—and his lip curled the moment he recognized Elias.

“You?” he scoffed. “Who let this trash inside?”

He stepped closer, his eyes moving from Elias’ hospital bracelet to his clothes to his face.

“Do you realize whose building this is?” Jeron asked coldly. “This is my uncle’s hospital. And you, a nobody, a parasite who lived off another family’s scraps—dare to raise your voice here?”

Elias clenched his jaw but remained silent. He didn’t even say or did anything and this man was attacking him.

Jeron smirked.

“Good. Stay quiet. Because starting now, I’m giving orders.”

He glanced back at the staff.

“No doctor is to attend to him. No tests. No surgery. Nothing.” His voice dropped to a cold finality. “I don’t want a single needle wasted on this fraud.”

The receptionist clapped excitedly. “Of course, Master Jeron!”

Jeron stepped closer, letting his cologne and wealth suffocate the air between them.

“The only way I’ll even consider forgiving your audacity,” he said, folding his arms, “is if you drop to your knees. Right here.”

He pointed to the spotless hospital floor.

“Beg me.”