The Rise of John Raymond

The Unseen Throne

The air turned heavy the moment Mr. David entered the room.

His presence alone shifted the atmosphere like a thunderclap before a storm. Conversations halted mid-sentence. Laughter died instantly. Even the waiters, waitresses and security paused in their tracks. Every soul in the elite-level lounge turned, eyes wide, breath held.

Everyone knew him.

Mr. David—a name whispered in fear. Once the most feared mafia leader in the Western sector, now posing as the elite manager of this restaurant. Rumor had it, he had taken the position not for the money, but for revenge—a silent quest to uncover those responsible for murdering his wife and only son. Everyone on campus respected him. But more than that… they feared him.

As he walked past each table, heads bowed like peasants before a king. Students stammered greetings.

“G-Good evening, Mr. David…”

“You look sharp today, sir…”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.

His eyes were locked ahead—focused on one person.

George.

The very boy is still arguing with the waitress, still making a fool of himself. “I told you, swipe it again!” George barked. “Your machines are useless!”

The waitress looked over his shoulder just as Mr. David arrived.

George turned and froze.

His skin went pale. His lips trembled.

“M-Mr. David… I was just… this waitress, she—she doesn’t know what she’s doing—”

Mr. David raised a hand. Silence.

He didn’t look at George. He turned to the waitress. “Explain.”

She bowed slightly and answered, “Sir, the total value of the items Mr. George requested is $7 million. His card—” she paused, “—has a limit of $1 million, but currently holds only a balance of $312,000.”

The room gasped.

Even Jerry, who’d supported George a few minutes ago, quietly turned his head away, refusing to look at him. Shame spread like wildfire.

Mr. David turned to George. Without warning—SLAP!

The sound echoed across the walls.

George staggered, holding his cheek in disbelief. No one dared to intervene.

Meanwhile, John was still eating, calmly nodding to the soft music, as if none of it concerned him.

Mr. David’s voice boomed. “You and your friends have fifteen minutes. Pay this bill in full… or no one leaves this building.”

He leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowing. “And if I still don’t have my money… you’ll know what hell feels like.”

He walked away. Silence returned.

Then chaos.

The group exploded into arguments.

“You fool, George! Who told you to show off?!”

“Seven million? Are you mad?!”

“I told you not to overdo it, but nooo!”

George was speechless, his eyes red. Jerry was sweating. Rita clutched her purse nervously. Even Anna sat in silence, shaken. The only one still composed… was John, still chewing, sipping wine, unbothered.

“Look at this idiot still eating!” Rita finally snapped, pointing at John.

“He has nothing to contribute, but he’s sitting like a king! Even Anna stopped eating, even I! But he, this poor fool, still has the guts!”

Fueled by rage, Rita grabbed the plate in front of John and the glass of wine, yanking them away from him.

John simply stood.

“I’m done,” he said calmly and made to walk out.

But Jerry blocked him. “No one’s leaving, especially not you. If you can eat here, you can help pay the bill.”

John looked him in the eye, then calmly returned to his seat, reached for Anna’s untouched plate, and resumed eating.

Everyone watched in disbelief.

“You’ve lost your damn mind,” George barked, his voice rising. “I swear, if you weren’t so pitiful, I’d knock your teeth in.”

Just as George stood to attack, Collins, John’s roommate and closest friend, grabbed his arm.

“Enough,” Collins said. “We have bigger problems. If John has nothing to offer, leave him alone.”

Grumbling, George sat down.

The group scrambled, calling anyone who might help.

Jerry called his cousin Anabel. “Sis, you’ve gotta help. We need to settle a $7 million bill.”

Her cold reply came quickly. “Tell George to carry his own cross. I never liked that arrogant idiot.”

Click.

Jerry stared blankly at his phone.

No one was answering. Parents weren’t picking. Bank transfers weren’t going through. The only option left… was to contribute themselves.

But even then, they hit a wall.

“I have 1.2 million.”

“I can spare 800k.”

“I have 600…”

In total—$4.5 million. Far below the needed amount. And spending it would leave them broke till their next allowance, a whole month away.

Defeated, they slumped in their seats.

John stood again.

No one paid attention this time. In their eyes, he was still worthless.

But John didn’t head to the restroom. He quietly turned and slipped toward the hallway behind the wine bar.

There, in a private lounge, sat Mr. David, scrolling through a database on a sleek black tablet.

John approached and cleared his throat.

“Mr. David,” he said.

Mr. David didn’t look up. “I’m busy.”

“I’m the one who asked your staff not to reveal my identity earlier. I’m the one who paid.”

That caught his attention.

Mr. David’s eyes narrowed. “Impossible.”

John reached into his jacket and pulled out the Black Card.

Mr. David’s jaw tensed. He stood slowly.

Then, with a hand over his chest, he gave a formal mafia salute.

“Forgive me, young master. I didn’t recognize you.”

He took the card and swiped it without hesitation.

Transaction Approved.

John nodded. “Keep it between us. For now.”

Mr. David gave a small smile. “As you wish.”

John returned to the dining area, calm as ever.

He resumed his seat and continued eating like nothing had happened.

Jerry was whispering to George about roughing John up later. Rita stared daggers at him. Anna and Collins exchanged puzzled glances, unsure of how John could remain so composed.

Then—

Mr. David returned.

He stood before the table, eyes sharp, voice like thunder.

“You’re lucky,” he said coldly. “One of your friends just saved your miserable lives. If not, I’d have skinned every single one of you alive.”

The entire group fell to the floor, thanking him, bowing in panic.

All except John—who sat, relaxed, finishing the last bite of his dessert.

Jerry tried to sneak a point toward him. “It must be him! He’s the one who didn’t even blink—”

But Mr. David cut him off with a glare that froze blood.

“I said one of your friends. Not him.”

He turned and walked away.

The moment he left, the insults began.

“You must know the guy who paid,” Jerry barked at John.

“You must have done something shady,” Rita hissed.

“Are you sleeping with the waitress now?!” George added.

“I swear, you’ll regret embarrassing us like this,” Jerry growled. “When this is over, I’ll make sure you disappear from this campus.”

Still, John said nothing.

He smiled quietly, stood, and turned to Collins.

“I’m heading back to the hostel.”

Collins nodded slowly, still dazed by everything.

Anna said nothing. She simply watched John walk away, something heavy stirring in her chest. Questions. Curiosity. Wonder.

Back at the hostel, John had barely taken off his shoes when his phone rang.

Rose.

Her voice was loud and sharp as always. “Why didn’t you tell me you were done cleaning, huh? Do you want another job or not?!”

John sighed. “I—”

“I’m not paying you unless you bring me 50% of what I paid you earlier. And I mean it. Don’t even think about getting more work from me unless I get that back by morning!”

John nodded to himself. “Fine. I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

Click.

He dropped the phone and exhaled deeply.

It rang again.

Anabel.

Her voice was full of venom. “You’re off the scholarship list, John. Since you refused to apologize to me and Jerry, I’ve made sure you’ll suffer.”

“You’ll crawl before I let you graduate. I’ll drag you out of this school in shame.”

She ended the call before he could say a word.

John sat still for a moment.

Then leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling.