Dawn crept over the far western edge of the Bluen Empire. The ancient and sprawling Fisher family castle stood on a hillside, its gray stone walls covered with ivy. A few early crows circled the highest tower, their mournful calls echoing as the bell tolled from above.
By the window stood a young man—silver hair tousled, wearing a slightly worn family robe, a simple sword at his waist. There was fatigue and anxiety in his eyes.
—I am Fisher, one of the heirs to a western earldom in the Bluen Empire. Yet now, I can't even muster the most basic battle aura. Three days ago, both my parents died overnight on the eastern front. Our family, once at its peak, now teeters on the edge of ruin. In two days, I must stand before the imperial assembly and swear my oath to become the next earl. In theory, this is the beginning of glory. But I know all too well it's the opening act to a bloody feast.
The kingdom's laws are clear: to inherit an earldom, you need a spotless lineage—and enough personal strength. At least a Grand Swordsman. But I, the spoiled heir, am good for nothing but balancing ledgers. With my parents alive, I could rely on them to shield me. Now, alone, everyone wants to step on me. And don't get me started on the tribute: tens of millions in gold due every year, endless noble pacts, and the ever-present threat that our assets could be snatched away at any moment.
I dared not go into the main hall. It was packed with relatives, all pretending to mourn while itching to carve up the pie. They couldn't rob me outright, but the knives were already out, glinting in the shadows.
Just then, a cold, mechanical voice sounded in my mind—
"Blackhearted Tycoon System activated. Beginner mission: Publicly purchase a tomato for one million gold coins. Make it sensational. Reward will be doubled based on impact."
My eyelid twitched. "One million gold coins for a tomato? Is this some kind of cosmic joke?"
But the system was real—too real to ignore. The first time it whispered to me was three days ago, the night my parents died. I'd thought it was a breakdown. But last night, it silently "suggested" I check the family accounts—where I found a mysterious new loan, our family's gold mine "automatically pledged" without my knowledge. The money had simply appeared, but every entry was backed by impeccable paperwork, so flawless even the local magic bank found nothing amiss.
I understood then: this was the system's doing. But there's no such thing as a free lunch. If the system wants me to make a fool of myself, I might as well use the chance to make a statement. The western lands of the Bluen Empire are now a storm of nobles and predators. If I don't flex a little, everyone will treat me as a pushover.
Below the castle, the market square was already waking up. It was the start of a new day, and for me, the start of a new, precarious identity.
I donned a freshly tailored family cloak and made my way down the main tower stairs. The guards at the entrance stiffened, then saluted in unison—but I could feel their furtive glances, as if all waiting for the inevitable disaster.
Passing the main hall, I overheard familiar voices:
"This foolish boy is going to ruin the family sooner or later!"
"The butler begged him to keep a low profile, and he still dares to show his face in public?"
I pretended not to hear, but my mind raced. There wasn't much left for a noble to leverage: just money, reputation, and a last scrap of courage.
Walking down the slope beneath the castle, sunlight dappled through the clouds onto my shoulders. Passersby shot me sidelong glances—some with respect, others with mockery. I caught a street vendor muttering, "They say the new earl's a fool. All that money, but not a bit of skill. Someone will take it all soon enough."
Deliberately quickening my pace, I headed for the Adventurers' Guild at the heart of the market. This was the biggest trading hub in the west: a nexus of information, power, and profit. Nobles still commanded fear here, but nobody dared break the rules—after all, the guild had ties to the kingdom's upper echelons and held the lives of countless adventurers in its hands. Still, it was just a mercenary organization, bound by law and custom.
At the guild entrance, I paused, adjusting my robe more to calm my nerves than to tidy my appearance.
—The system demanded a sensation. It looked like it was time to go all in.
Pushing open the doors, I strode into the main hall. For a moment, the bustling room fell silent—then returned to its noisy, chaotic flow. Adventurers, merchants, thugs, and foreigners haggled and argued. In the center stood a massive blue magic crystal, pulsing with light. Missions were posted, rewards handed out, coin flowing everywhere.
I marched straight to the front desk. The bunny-eared clerk behind it was absorbed in her ledgers. Seeing me approach, she started, her eyes quickly scanning the family crest on my robe.
Drawing a deep breath, I raised my voice in the arrogant tone of the old nobility:
"Who has a tomato? I'll buy one for a million gold coins!"
The air froze.
The bunny-eared girl's eyes nearly popped out. Around us, everyone paused, turning to stare.
"Excuse me?" she stammered.
"One million gold coins for a tomato," I repeated, crisp and shameless. "Whoever brings one first gets paid. Don't be late!"
After a split-second of silence, the hall exploded. Adventurers darted for the exits, thugs pinned down vendors and rummaged through baskets, merchants sent magical birds home for supplies.
The bunny girl dashed for the back room. A moment later, the second-floor balcony filled with onlookers—among them, the local guildmaster, Cullinan, a legendary figure known for his iron will and sharp mind, surrounded by noble representatives and senior guild advisers.
Upstairs, whispers filled the meeting room:
"Fisher's lost it, hasn't he?"
"The new earl is blowing a million gold on a tomato? Has he lost his mind?"
Cullinan didn't speak immediately. He just watched the chaos below, his eyes unreadable.
He murmured to the advisers beside him, "Don't be fooled. This isn't just a show of wealth—this is a declaration. He's proving he can still move assets and resources. If the whole city hears about this, nobody will dare touch him lightly."
A noble snorted, "He'll run out of money, then we'll see who protects him."
Another was more cautious: "But someone who can throw money around like this—whether mad or pretending—means the royal capital will hesitate. No one's going to make a move just yet."
Cullinan smiled faintly, lifting his cup: "Let's wait. The best part of the play hasn't started."
The hall below was now chaos. Adventurers turned out their pockets. Thugs leaped onto stalls, merchants shouted over each other. Some sly types even tried to palm off rotten tomatoes on their rivals just to watch the world burn.
Overheard whispers snaked through the crowd:
"One million gold for a tomato—he's insane."
"He's faking it, playing the fool to get through the earl's succession."
"Does he really have that much? If it were me, I'd shove the tomato in his face and grab the cash."
But even the boldest troublemakers didn't dare act rashly—everyone knew that even with the Fisher family's troubles, open defiance of the nobility was suicide.
Suddenly, a shout: "I've got one! Fresh tomato right here!"
A tall, thin merchant struggled through the mob, waving a bright red tomato overhead, face flushed with effort and desperation. Thugs tried to block him, but he staggered through, barely reaching the counter.
I was about to take the tomato when Cullinan caught the merchant's eye and gave a subtle nod. The merchant froze for a moment, then quickly handed both the tomato and the payment slip to Cullinan, as if offering tribute.
Cullinan accepted them with a benign smile, glanced at the receipt, and, from his coat, flicked a beautifully engraved contract toward the merchant. "Well done. Task complete. The guild will have more work for you in the future."
The merchant, delighted, thanked him repeatedly and hurried off with the contract.
Now Cullinan faced the crowd, unrolling a scroll shimmering with green light. He lifted the tomato high and intoned solemnly:
"Today, Lord Fisher has spent one million gold coins on the only Wind-Blessed Tomato in our city. Let us witness the descent of the wind god together!"
He formed seals with his fingers, chanting softly. The scroll shone with green-blue light and a faint breeze, magical runes circling the tomato as if tiny wind spirits danced about it.
When the chant ended, a clear snap echoed. Wind runes glowed on the tomato's skin, a gentle, mysterious aura swirling around it.
Cullinan held the tomato reverently toward me. "Lord Fisher, this is the city's only Wind-Blessed Tomato. It's said that anyone who eats it—even without any martial training—will gain an affinity for wind magic and become a Wind Initiate."
All eyes focused on me. I tried to hide my amusement—and my complaints about the system's absurdity—then took a big bite out of the tomato.
Sweet and sour juice filled my mouth, and a cool sensation slid down my throat. In an instant, a chilly current flowed through my body. My mind filled with new, unfamiliar words: "Wind Blade," "Wind Step"...
Looking down at my hand, I felt the faint tingle of wind energy gathering around my fingers. My heart leapt with excitement, though I kept my face straight.
—Did I really just become a mage?
The system whispered in my mind: "Congratulations. You have become a Wind Magic Initiate. Gained basic spells (Wind Blade, Wind Step). Two million gold coins awarded."
The crowd erupted—some applauding, others scoffing.
"I've seen people throw money around, but I've never seen someone pay their way into magic!"
"Sure, he's a bit of an idiot. Who spends a million on a tomato? But now he can use magic. Not much left to laugh at."
"Tomato Tycoon, the magic pushover—ha! The Bluen Empire's got a new meme!"
Before the commotion died down, I raised the half-eaten tomato and turned to Cullinan:
"Guildmaster, since I happen to have this new gold burning a hole in my pocket—and my family's mines need guarding—would your guild be willing to take on a one-year defense contract? The usual price—a million gold coins."
The hall buzzed again. Cullinan bowed respectfully. "Of course. Our branch will, under formal contract, guard the Fisher family's copper and western mines until you pass your domain defense assessment. Here's the contract copy and magic seal—please review and sign, my lord."
I nodded and signed: "If I'm spending money, I'll do it openly. If my life's at stake, I'll defend it myself."
Cullinan collected the signed contract, always the proper subordinate: "Our branch will serve to the utmost. You have my word."
Everyone understood: this was a lawful contract, not some backroom alliance. Nobles were above all; the guild, for all its strength, was but a hired sword. Still, this clever move patched my weakest spot—before anyone could make a move, they'd have to consider whether the guild would really tear up a magic-backed contract.
The nobles in the audience looked uneasy, whispering to each other. "He's plugging holes with cash. If he lasts out the year, he might not be so easy to swallow after all…"
By evening, every teahouse, casino, merchant hall, and marketplace in the western Bluen lands was abuzz with gossip: "The new earl bought a Wind-Blessed Tomato for a million, awakened magic on the spot, then turned around and dropped another million to hire the Adventurers' Guild."
The noble circles mocked me in public but scrambled to plot in secret. Some were eager to buy up Fisher family assets; others tried to bribe guild insiders. When the royal authorities heard what had happened, they called off any direct investigation, opting instead to watch and wait. Merchants, adventurers, and even street peddlers spun the day's events into a thousand new jokes. Some even began selling "Magic Tycoon Tomato Platters," cashing in on the fad.
That night, I returned to the castle, alone, fiddling with my family's magic gold card. I muttered, "I just wanted to make money, but now I'm the city's new punchline… Well, being famous isn't so bad."
Under cover of darkness, I slipped into the magic bank and requested all the family's latest account books and asset records. The bank manager, all deference, presented the ledgers and documentation: "My lord, here are your newest assets and the paperwork for the recent pledges. The newly approved gold and precious metal mines are now on your balance sheet. The gold has already been credited and everything is stamped by the kingdom."
"Newly approved?" My heart skipped as I flipped through the records. These mines and ventures hadn't existed in our family assets before—they'd simply "appeared" out of nowhere.
My mind raced: "Does this mean every time the system rewards me, it creates new properties, then automatically pledges them to the bank? That way, every gold coin is perfectly legal—no loopholes, no trace…"
Suppressing my shock, I kept a calm face and closed the account books.
"This Blackhearted Tycoon System can multiply my assets out of thin air. As long as I keep spending and stirring things up, I'll quietly build an empire of my own!"
Deep into the night, the noble assembly, guild headquarters, royal intelligence, and the city's great families all calculated their next moves—currents swirling beneath the surface.
But on every street corner, "Tomato Tycoon," "Magic Pushover," and "Big-Spender Awakening" became the talk of the town. Standing on my balcony, I gazed at the lights and shifting shadows in the distance, my heart pounding with excitement. "Hmph. Tomato Tycoon? That's me. Envy all you want—you'll never catch up."