Gambling Rhapsody: The Villainess Rises with Fists and Cheating - Poison, Lies, and Her True Feelings

The heat of her winning streak still lingered throughout her body. Cassandra Vainford sat on a carelessly placed wooden crate in the pit arena's waiting room. The bandages wrapped around her right fist were once again stained with blood from last night's match. But what occupied her attention more was the brass chip she kept fidgeting with in her left hand. The octagonal coin reflected the light of the tallow lamp, gleaming dully. Five consecutive wins. In just three days, she had put down five opponents. The roar of the crowd the moment she took down the fifth tonight still echoed deep in her ears. The name "Gambling Princess" had raced through the underground arena, and even on Roth Street in the gambling district, she was already becoming the pillar that generated the highest betting odds herself. "I seem to be far luckier than the people around here think." She murmured to no one in particular, twisting the corner of her mouth. The cross-shaped scar on her left cheek pulled slightly taut to match the shape of her smile. There was no more pain. This was nothing but a badge of honor. Just then, the old door of the waiting room creaked open with an unpleasant sound. "Gambling Princess. Stop by the shop." The figure that appeared was an older man with slicked-back gray hair. Berndt, the owner of the tavern "The Rusted Anchor." He wore his usual sullen expression, but his sharp eyes seemed to gleam strangely even under the lamplight. Cassandra narrowed her golden eyes and waved her injured right hand flippantly. "Oh my, Berndt. If it's a money-making scheme, I'm all for it. Didn't you fatten your chips quite a bit betting on me yesterday?" "No. It's a warning." Berndt closed the door behind him and lowered his voice. The damp underground air suddenly felt heavier. "There's a woman named Renate, a mid-level executive in the Nachtring. She runs a gambling den called 'The Golden Cup' and is famous for being calculating. Your winning streak is starting to throw the arena gambling odds into chaos. Every time your streak record updates, more fools bet on you, and the organization's calculations fall apart. More than anything, they hate irregularities that disrupt their math." Marcus's words resurfaced in Cassandra's mind. —If you keep piling up wins, the Nachtring will definitely send assassins. The fingers toying with the chip stopped dead. Deep in her chest, something crackled, scattering tiny sparks. Wariness, and something beyond that—heat. "...So, what happens to me? A dagger in the dark? Or will they slip me poison during a match?" "I don't know that much. But don't forget what Marcus said. Assassins don't always come at you with pure skill. There's a chance you'll be caught in a trap in the gambling district. Be careful." Cassandra slowly rose to her feet. Her red ponytail, tied up high, swayed like the tail of a wary beast. She pressed the chip in her hand against Berndt's chest with a light thump. "Then all the more reason to go, isn't it? A trap is the ultimate gamble, after all. Just watch. If they're trying to erase me, I'll bet the whole organization into the ground in return." Her eyes flashed brilliantly. The more cornered she became, the more those eyes gleamed like a beast that had found its prey. Berndt muttered, "You're insane..." but the corner of his mouth was faintly smiling. Roth Street was wrapped in its usual frenzy. A pleasure district of about six hundred meters floating in the underground darkness. The sound of cards being shuffled, the satisfying clatter of rolling dice, the raucous laughter of someone raking in chips, and the sobbing of those who had lost everything somewhere today as well. All of it mixed together, generating a stifling heat along with the smoke of the tallow lamps. Weaving through the crowd, Cassandra headed for "The Golden Cup," the largest gambling den on Roth Street. Just walking down the street drew piercing stares from all around. "It's the Gambling Princess..." "Is she going to crush someone today too?" Such whispers flew about, loud enough for her to hear. She ignored all of them and pushed open the heavy, imposing door. The interior of The Golden Cup was quiet, as if the clamor outside were a lie. An air of luxury permeated the entire room, with murals of gold-trimmed playing cards painted on the walls. The patrons, dressed in refined clothing, enjoyed their gambling in hushed voices. "Welcome, Miss Cassandra Vainford." A woman's voice, like the tinkling of a bell yet somehow cold, rang out. A single woman emerged from the back of the establishment. Renate. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties. Elegantly clad in a dress woven with silver thread, her calculating, narrow eyes fixed on Cassandra as if appraising her. "What business does the rumored Gambling Princess have in a back-alley gambling den like ours? I thought you had no interest in anything outside the arena." "Oh my, are you turning away customers? I felt like a change of pace today and wanted to play some cards. Could you show me to a good table?" Renate twisted only her mouth into the shape of a smile. Her eyes weren't smiling at all. "Yes, of course. As it happens, we have the perfect opponent for you to test your skills against." She waved her hand elegantly and guided Cassandra to a partitioned VIP room at the back of the establishment. At the table in the center of that room sat a single girl. Jet-black short hair, cut roughly at shoulder length. It hid her left eye just a little. From beneath it, green eyes—narrow and slit-like as needles, possessing both a reptilian coldness and beauty—looked up at Cassandra impassively. She looked to be about fifteen or sixteen. But what floated in those eyes was only a resignation unfitting for her age, and a sharpness like a finely honed blade. Eris Noir. The sixteen-year-old girl gambler who would later become Cassandra's partner. Bandages were wrapped around the back of her left hand, and hidden beneath them was the snake tattoo, proof of the guild's poison user. "Hey." That was all the girl said, curtly. Renate spread her hands beside the table. "Allow me to introduce her. Eris. She will be your opponent today. The rules are simple. A one-on-one card game. The wager is—" She cut her words short there, and Renate wore a smile laced with venom. "—Your life, tonight." The air froze solid. Without changing her expression, Cassandra slowly sat down in the seat opposite Eris. The chair creaked quietly. She reached for the deck of cards placed on the table and picked up just one. "What a remarkably romantic wager." As she toyed with the card, she observed Eris's entire body. Her fingertips, her breathing, the position of her shoulders. And then— The moment Eris began to shuffle the cards, Cassandra's golden eyes narrowed for just an instant. (...Just now, her fingertips were slightly off-rhythm.) It was a minuscule irregularity in movement, the kind anyone would overlook. But Cassandra did not miss it. The observational skills drilled into her since childhood in gambling dens by her gambling-crazed father were reading her opponent's every move, every gesture, like individual cards in a deck. "Fine. I'll accept that wager." The match began. The early game was a crushing victory for Eris. Her hands moved without hesitation, continuing to choose the optimal plays as if she knew all the cards from the very start. Cassandra was completely on the defensive, and the mountain of chips before her dwindled before her very eyes. Spectators increased, and members of the Nachtring began to cast unabashed stares. "You look pale." Eris said it flatly. Inwardly, Cassandra was impressed. She had been putting on an act of turning pale, convinced of her loss, but apparently it was more convincing than she thought. Or rather, the tension had actually made her feel a little sick. "Shut up. Focus on the game." Even as she retorted, she found herself absurd and desperately stifled a laugh. The atmosphere at the table softened strangely for just a moment. Eris, expressionless, tilted her head slightly. The match reached its final phase. Only a few chips remained at Cassandra's hand. A desperate situation. The surrounding spectators already wore the faces of those who had seen the outcome. But inside Cassandra's head, it burned hotly, and quietly. (Analysis complete.) In the final phase, she had completely seen through the cheating method Eris had set up. The minute creases made when shuffling the cards. And the spare card Eris had hidden inside her sleeve. All of it had formed a complete picture in Cassandra's mind. The final move. Cassandra rose from her seat. The force knocked her chair backward, making a loud noise. "—That's enough." She reached out and grabbed Eris's cuff. A single card slipped from the girl's slender wrist. Fluttering, fluttering, it drifted down onto the table. The gathered spectators held their breath. "A magnificent piece of cheating. You memorized the positions using the creases on the cards, and at the end, swapped it with the card in your sleeve. Beautiful technique. However—" She slammed her own cards down onto the table. "I read through all of it one move faster than that!" The room fell silent, as if a bucket of water had been thrown over it. The Nachtring members stood rooted, speechless. Eris didn't run, didn't make excuses, just quietly cast her eyes down. Her figure was so small, like a porcelain doll that seemed about to break at any moment. "Hey, you useless piece of trash!" The one who broke the silence was one of the Nachtring members. His face twisted in anger, the man closed in on Eris. "You failed the job! You've dragged the guild's name through the mud. Dispose of yourself!" The man was about to thrust a small vial of poison at Eris. That was when it happened. Cassandra smoothly stepped in front of the man. From her 172-centimeter height, she looked down at him with golden eyes that seemed to pierce right through. Deep within those eyes, anger crackled and burned. "Hold it right there. This girl is my win. She's my spoils of war. I can't let the likes of you dispose of her as you please." Eris's shoulders trembled slightly. She looked up for the first time, staring at Cassandra. Those cold green eyes opened wider than they ever had before. For the first time, someone had appeared who didn't try to use and discard her, but instead became her shield. It was pure surprise at that fact. Outside The Golden Cup, in a back alley. It was a dimly lit place where the clamor of Roth Street could only be heard in the distance. The sign of the poison dispensary "Tinctura" emitted a faint glow of fluorescent ore. Cassandra and Eris faced each other, just the two of them. "Why did you risk your life pulling a cheat for the organization?" To Cassandra's question, after a long silence, Eris answered shortly. "...I was ordered to. That's all." Her voice was flat, as if all emotion had been completely drained from it. But Cassandra saw through it. Deeper within this girl's eyes, in a much deeper place, burned a murky, dark flame that was neither obedience nor loyalty. It was a tremendous hatred for the Nachtring. "You hate the Nachtring, don't you." It was a tone of assertion. Eris didn't answer. She just looked up at Cassandra, expressionless. The silence was an affirmation more eloquent than anything else. "Then this is simple." Cassandra took a step closer and bent down to meet Eris's gaze. Burning golden eyes and icy green eyes intersected. "Eris. From now on, use your poisons for me. I won't use your skills to kill anyone. ...Will you fight alongside me?" Wind blew through the alleyway. Eris stared intently at Cassandra for a moment, then eventually gave a small nod. "...Understood." Silence flowed between them. Eris, still looking down, murmured quietly. "...Aren't you afraid of dying?" Cassandra looked slightly su

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Episode 3

Name: Gambling Rhapsody: The Villainess Rises with Fists and Cheating
Author: Novelia

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