Gambling Rhapsody: The Villainess Rises with Fists and Cheating - The Queen's Toy, The Queen's Gamble

The roar of the arena echoed in the distance. Through the walls of the Colosseum Helga, the rumble of the spectators carried like a tremor in the earth. Tonight, too, someone would win, someone would lose, someone would bask in cheers, and someone would sink into the sand. It was a night like any other. In the deepest corner of the tavern, the Rusted Anchor, three figures sat in shadow. Cassandra Vainford gripped her wooden tankard, a deep furrow carved between her brows. The murky surface of the ale rippled, catching the light of the tallow lamp. Beside her, Eris Noir spread a parchment with an expressionless face. Beneath her short black hair, green eyes coldly scanned the rows of numbers. And leaning back against the wall in his chair sat Albert Grayson. His ash-blond hair was carelessly disheveled, and his blue-gray eyes watched Cassandra's face with a hint of amusement. "[serious]So, what's the status on my father Leonhardt's ledgers?" Cassandra's voice was low and irritated. "...The previous generation's transaction records are stored in Nachtring's inner circle. But to get close, you need at least a recommendation from a 'Pillar'-rank member." Eris pointed a small finger at a spot on the parchment. Her finger's movement stopped for just a moment. Her green pupils narrowed like needles. "...The deadline is two weeks. If we can't infiltrate by then, the records will be incinerated." The tankard creaked in Cassandra's grip. Two weeks. It was the razor's edge between reaching the truth of her father's death or not. Her golden eyes glinted fiercely, reflecting the tallow lamp's flame. Within them dwelled a light unique to a cornered beast, yet also akin to exhilaration. "[excited]Oh, how interesting. I'll climb as high as I can in two weeks. Hell, I wouldn't mind kicking one of those 'Pillars' down on my way up." "You truly are beautiful. Especially your face when you're saying something reckless—it's the best." Albert's theatrical voice. The iron chain on his wrist clinked softly. Cassandra glared at him sharply. The cross-shaped scar on her left cheek twisted into a shape of anger. "[angry]Shut up. You just focus on being useful in tomorrow's tag match." "My, my. I shall endeavor to meet your expectations." He smiled thinly. That was when it happened. BANG!! The tavern door was thrown open with enough force to nearly break it. The one who burst in was the gray-haired owner, Bernt. His face was deathly pale with a tension he probably hadn't shown since his days as a gladiator. "Cassandra...!!" Bernt, out of breath, slammed his hand on the table. "In the VIP seats of the Colosseum Helga... the Queen is here. Viola Desperado." The air in the room froze in an instant. Eris's hand stopped on the parchment. Her usually expressionless brow twitched faintly. "...She came all the way from the surface?" "That's not all. For some reason, she summoned the slave manager, Jork, and... she's making him bring a full set of slave trade documents. She's looking to buy something." A strange chill ran through Cassandra's entire body. A sensation like something cold crawling from the nape of her neck down to her waist. Something pounded violently deep in her chest. —Looking to buy something. Her gaze unconsciously moved to Albert, leaning against the wall. Albert, too, had erased the smile from his blue-gray eyes and was staring at Bernt with a sharp look. (No way.) "[serious]...Let's go." Cassandra kicked her chair back and stood. The old wound on her right fist throbbed with pain. ◆ The moment she stepped into the Colosseum Helga, Cassandra couldn't believe her eyes. The spectators packing the grand arena were utterly silent. Not a single one was gambling, not a single one cheering for the fight. Everyone held their breath, staring at a single point. The front row of the spectator stands. The gold-adorned VIP seats. There, a single woman sat. Her silver hair, long enough to reach her waist, was styled in an intricately braided updo. Deep violet eyes, like amethysts, gazed down at the sandy arena below with utter indifference, as if looking into a toy box. Her white dress stood out eerily under the dim orange lights of the arena. From her neck to her collarbone, a black tattoo of rose vines crept along her skin. The mark of a Nachtring executive. Viola Desperado. A winning streak of 142 matches. The absolute queen of the underground arena. Before her stood the expressionless manager, Jork, spreading out several sheets of parchment. "[cold]Slave fighter number 47. Albert Grayson's total remaining debt is 680 chips. Is that correct?" Viola's voice rang out clearly, cutting through the silence of the arena. "Yes. As of today, the purchase rights have been consolidated from three creditors." Jork answered in a monotone voice. "Then I will assume the full amount. As of today, his person belongs to me." With a snap of her pale, slender fingers, a man who appeared to be her butler, waiting behind her, emptied a pile of chips from a leather bag onto the table. The octagonal brass coins clattered as they piled up with an inorganic sound. (—This woman.) The edges of Cassandra's vision flared with heat. She heard something snap. "[whispers]...Wait. Viola Desperado. 142 consecutive wins. The current strongest fighter." Eris's small voice came from behind. The perpetually expressionless girl now showed just a hint of urgency. "[angry]You said that like you knew who she was, but everyone around us heard you!!" Cassandra shouted, taking her anger out on Eris, and leaped down onto the sandy arena floor. Dust flew. In the spectator stands, Bernt spat out his ale. "You didn't know?!" A faint ripple of laughter passed through the crowd. But it lasted only a moment. Cassandra walked straight up to the VIP seats. She clenched her scarred right fist and raised her head. "[angry]I don't know who the hell you think you are—" "[cold]I am exactly who I think I am. Your Queen." Viola's voice coldly cut off Cassandra's words. The amethyst eyes caught Cassandra head-on for the first time. In that instant, the bored-looking eyes narrowed, sharpened, and filled with life. Like a child who had found the shiniest toy in the toy box. "[gentle]Oh my, what an interesting toy." Viola slowly stood up. "This man is already mine. If you insist on taking him back—" She cast a glance behind Cassandra, toward Albert, who stood frozen beyond the wire mesh. "Then wager. Your everything." That voice was elegant and cruel enough to melt the very air of the arena. ◆ The stage shifted to the Golden Cup, the largest gambling den on Lot Street. Fighters who had heard the rumors, regular gamblers, and rubberneckers packed the walls of the den without a gap. In the center sat a heavy ebony roulette table. The ivory ball reflected the tallow lamp's light, gleaming ominously. Cassandra and Viola faced each other across the roulette table. Beside them, Albert, still bound by the slave fighter's chain, leaned against the wall as if enjoying the situation. A few steps away, Eris expressionlessly observed the tilt of the roulette table. "The rules are simple. We declare our bets alternately. The first to win three rounds wins. The wager is ownership of that man." Viola said, tracing the roulette wheel with her fingertip. "However—" Her violet eyes glinted sharply. "Before the match, let's have a little chat. About what's in your heart." Cassandra gritted her teeth. "[cold]That man you're so desperate to take back. If I recall, he's the one who stole your entire fortune and broke off your engagement, isn't he?" A stir ran through the crowd. "Normally, wouldn't one abandon such a man? Or—is your fixation on him just hatred? Or do you still love him?" "[angry]Don't be ridiculous! There's no way—" "Oh, I've hit a nerve." Viola's lips twisted into a crescent moon. "You have no right of refusal. The wager has already begun." She pulled the lever on the roulette table. Clatter, clatter, clatter, clatter— The ivory ball began to dance across the wheel. "The first bet is mine.—Black." Click. The ball dropped into a pocket. The dealer acting as referee announced in a mechanical voice. "Black, number 10." "My win. So, a question. If you hate him, why are you here?" Cassandra's hand gripped the edge of the roulette table. Her knuckles turned white. "[angry]...That's none of your business." "It is my business. After all, isn't a woman who can't let go of the man she hates... ridiculous?" "Second round. Red." She won again. "Third round. Black." Three consecutive losses. Cold sweat beaded on Cassandra's forehead. "[sad]You're not angry because he betrayed you. Isn't it simply that you can't stand the thought of him no longer being yours?" Those words pierced deep into Cassandra's chest like a sharp needle. No. That's not it. I just don't want to hand over my right to punch that man to someone else. (...Is that all?) A small voice within herself. In that moment, Cassandra's hand stopped. Visible turmoil clouded her eyes. She didn't notice that beyond the wire mesh, Albert's blue-gray eyes were fixed intently on her face. "[cold]Oh my, is it over already? How boring." Viola's smile deepened. The next moment— Tug. Someone pulled on Cassandra's sleeve. She turned to find Eris standing there, expressionless. Her small hand pressed a scrap of paper into Cassandra's palm. "[whispers]...The bias tendency, calculated from the tilt and rotation speed. The numbers for the next three rounds." Eris's voice was a faint whisper, audible only to Cassandra. "[whispers]Whether you use it or not is up to you." Cassandra clutched the scrap of paper. That was when it happened. A low voice rang out from beyond the wire mesh. "[gentle]Cassandra." It was Albert. For the first time, he gripped the wire mesh with force, leaning forward. The smile was gone from his lips, and only his blue-gray eyes pierced straight through Cassandra. "[serious]I'm your prey, aren't I?" That voice took the form of a twisted provocation, neither an apology nor a confession of love. But— "[serious]Don't hand me over to someone else." The man who had stolen her entire fortune and cast her into hell declared, in this very moment, that he was "hers." That fact pierced Cassandra's chest with a strange heat. The center of her chest grew warm, spreading slowly. "[laughing]...Heh." Cassandra couldn't help but let a smile escape. Amidst a whirlpool of emotions she herself couldn't understand, she crushed the scrap of paper tightly in her fist without looking at it. "[gentle]Thank you, Eris." For the first time, she offered her partner honest gratitude. Eris's ears turned faintly red for a moment, and she turned away with a huff. "...You're welcome." Cassandra turned back to the roulette table. "[excited]The next three rounds. I'll bet them all on myself. Is that acceptable?" The crowd erupted in murmurs. "Huh? Why's she suddenly so confident?!" "She was shaking just a moment ago! Are you insane, Gambling Princess?!" "I don't care, I'm in too!" Bernt impulsively slammed his entire fortune in chips from his pocket onto the table. Later, he would realize it was equivalent to this month's tavern rent and turn deathly pale on the spot. "First round. Red 23." Cassandra's declaration. Clatter, clatter, clatter, clatter— "Red, number 23." It hit. Viola's brow twitched faintly. "Second round. Black 8." "Black, number 8." Two in a row. Eris's data had accurately captured the wheel's bias. "Third round—" Here, Cassandra closed her eyes for the first time. The crushed scrap of paper had written the next bias as "around Red 15." But—Cassandra discarded the data. "Green, 0. A straight bet." "...What did you say?!" Viola's voice trembled with shock for the first time. The roulette's green 0. The "devil's number" with the lowest probability and the highest payout.

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Episode 5

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

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