Gambling Rhapsody: The Villainess Rises with Fists and Cheating - Rock, Paper, Scissors, and the Prelude of Love

The tallow lamp's flame cast three long shadows across the still-dim interior of *The Rusted Anchor*. Before opening hours, three figures sat around a worn wooden table in the tavern. Cassandra Vainford, her fiery red hair tied high and her sharp golden eyes gleaming. Beside her, Eris Noir, her jet-black hair cut straight at the shoulders, her needle-thin green eyes fixed on the parchment before her. And against the wall, Albert Grayson, idly running a hand through his ash-blond hair, his blue-gray eyes narrowed in amusement. Between the three of them, before any words were spoken, a strange atmosphere hung in the air. Tension. Anticipation. And just a hint of solidarity. As if scattered gears had finally begun to mesh together. "…These are Gustav Rein's tells." Eris spread several sheets of parchment across the table. They were densely packed with tiny script and diagrams. "The oldest member of the Round Table, and the strongest active gambler. Right-handed. The moment he's certain of victory, his gaze always drifts left for zero-point-three seconds." Her small finger pointed to a spot on the parchment. The crystallization of information gathered over an entire sleepless night. The faint shadows under her eyes were proof of that. "[surprised]You gathered all this in one night…" Cassandra let out a breath of admiration. That was when— "If I may add something." Albert, leaning against the wall, quietly spoke up. The iron chain on his wrist clinked softly. "Gustav Rein. I've seen that name in gambling den records from thirty years ago. His opening move is almost always paper." Eris's hand stopped dead. "[cold]…And your reasoning?" Her voice dropped just slightly. "Those in power are creatures who instinctively want to envelop their opponents. Unconsciously, but without fail. It's the nature of the powerful." Silence fell. Eris stared at Albert with an expressionless face, then eventually dropped her gaze back to the parchment. Her small shoulders tensed ever so slightly. "…That wasn't in my records." Her voice was flatter than usual. But Cassandra understood. The girl was deeply frustrated. The fact that Albert, of all people, had supplemented something missing from her own information network—it infuriated her. "You two are terrifyingly in sync." Cassandra said it half in exasperation— "…We are not in sync." Eris and Albert's voices overlapped perfectly. They both glared at each other simultaneously; Eris immediately averted her eyes, and Albert shrugged with exaggerated flair. Cassandra barely managed to suppress a laugh. (*These two, really…*) That was the night before. And now—the morning of the decisive battle had arrived. ◆ The Pit Arena. This arena, where rookie fighters tested their skills, held a capacity of only three hundred. But today, the atmosphere was different. At its center stood not a fighting pit of sand, but a lavish gambling table. Ebony wood draped in deep crimson velvet. Two figures stood across that table from each other. On one side, Cassandra Vainford. Today, she wore not a fighter's leather armor, but a jet-black dress that Eris had procured from somewhere. The design exposed her shoulders, making the cross-shaped scar on her left cheek look strangely alluring. The old wound on her right hand was hidden beneath a black lace glove. "[serious]…I can't say I have much taste for this outfit." "[whispers]Just be quiet. It's combat attire." From the shadow of a pillar in the spectator stands, Eris murmured softly. On her lap rested a thick bundle of parchment—her own weapon for the battle about to begin. On the other side of the gambling table stood an old man with a white beard. Gustav Rein. He was likely past sixty. Yet his back was ramrod straight, and his eyes, deep within their wrinkles, were as sharp as a hawk's. The unfathomable pressure of a man who had reigned as a member of Nahtering's Round Table for thirty years dominated the entire arena. "[gentle]…A young girl shouldn't come to a place like this." Gustav spoke in a hoarse voice. A confident smile played at the corners of his mouth. "[excited]I came because I wanted to see the face of an old fossil losing to a young girl." Cassandra grinned back. Her golden eyes flashed brilliantly. "[laughing]Spirited. I don't dislike it." Gustav's eyes smiled. And then— "Now then, the final match! Nahtering representative Gustav Rein versus challenger Cassandra Vainford. A five-round bout of rock-paper-scissors!" The referee's voice echoed throughout the Pit Arena. ◆ A corner of the spectator stands—the VIP section. "Oh my, it's starting." Viola Desperado sat with her legs crossed, her waist-length silver hair left flowing and unbound today. Her amethyst-purple eyes narrowed like a cat stalking its prey. "Which one are you betting on?" A low-ranking Nahtering executive standing beside her asked nervously. "[laughing]The girl, of course. After all, that's far more entertaining." At the nape of her neck, the rose vine tattoo twisted into the shape of a smile. ◆ The gambling table. "Round one—" A silence like a drumroll gripped the spectator stands. Cassandra recalled Eris's notes. (*Opening move: paper. Those in power try to envelop—*) And Albert's words. (*For thirty years, his opening move has been paper.*) Both pieces of information aligned perfectly. In that case—there was no need to hesitate. "Rock, paper, scissors—shoot!" Cassandra's hand: scissors. Gustav's hand: paper. "—Cassandra wins!" A stir ran through the crowd. Gustav's white eyebrow twitched. Cassandra did not miss that tiny reaction. (*It's working.*) "Round two—" This time, Cassandra relied on Eris's second analysis. If Gustav changed his read—after losing with scissors, the next move would be rock, a retreat into brute force. And reading that rock, she would play paper. "Rock, paper, scissors—shoot!" Cassandra's hand: paper. Gustav's hand: rock. "—Cassandra, two consecutive wins!" WAAAAAAH!!! The spectators erupted in cheers and roars. An arena that should have held only three hundred people was engulfed in the heat of a thousand. "[excited]Isn't this practically a guaranteed win!" Cassandra couldn't help but exclaim— "[whispers]…Too soon." From the fighter observation area behind her, Albert's restrained voice reached her. Cassandra whipped her head around and glared at him. "[angry]You shut up—" At that moment. "Round three—" Gustav had swiftly signaled. "Wha—hold on!" She spun back in a panic, but her timing had been completely thrown off. Her mind went blank. Eris's data, Albert's analysis—everything scattered. "Rock, paper, scissors—shoot!" Cassandra reflexively threw scissors. Gustav's hand—paper. "—Gustav wins!" The arena fell silent, as if doused with water. Cassandra stared at her own right hand, frozen. (*Damn it…!*) She could see Eris in the shadow of the pillar, her hand pressed to her forehead. Her face was more expressionless than ever, which only underscored the depth of her disappointment. "[gentle]…That third round—you didn't throw it on purpose, did you?" Gustav spoke quietly, his voice hoarse. His eyes were not smiling. "It seems you've done considerable research into my habits. But—data alone cannot win against a person." He had struck the mark. (*Eris's data is being read one step ahead—*) Cassandra felt something deep in her chest creak painfully. At the same time—something blazed fiercely within her. (*I don't want to lose. I absolutely refuse to lose.*) ◆ Round four. The score was two to one. Cassandra still held the lead, but the momentum had clearly begun to shift toward Gustav. "[serious]…Albert." Cassandra did not turn around. She simply spoke with her back to him. She sensed Albert's presence shift behind her. He said nothing. But—beneath the gambling table, Cassandra moved the fingers of her left hand in a small gesture. (*My current read is rock. A wily opponent retreats into brute force in the fourth round.*) At that moment. In the corner of her vision, Albert's right index finger quietly bent. It was a code that only the two of them had used, long ago, at the gambling tables of the Vainford estate. In their engagement days—when he was still her fiancé, and she was still a duke's daughter. Whenever the opponent was about to resort to brute force, he had always sent this signal. (*In this hell, you…*) Something deep in Cassandra's chest burned hot. Was it anger? Gratitude? Or—an emotion she couldn't name? She did not turn around. Because if she did, she would show him her face. "Round four—" "Rock, paper, scissors—shoot!" Cassandra's hand—paper. Gustav's hand—rock. "—Cassandra wins!!" WHOOOOOAAAA!!! The Pit Arena was engulfed in a thunderous roar, as if it had exploded. The smile vanished completely from Gustav's face. For the first time, his wrinkled features were colored with sheer astonishment. "[surprised]…That just now." His voice trembled. Cassandra let out a ragged breath—and did not turn around. Only her ear, visible in profile, was faintly tinged with red. ◆ In the shadow of the pillar in the spectator stands. Eris quietly closed her bundle of parchment. Her needle-thin green eyes gazed intently at Cassandra's back. "…Data doesn't matter anymore." She murmured softly. And then her gaze turned toward Albert. Right after the fourth round—he had relaxed his expression, aimed solely at Cassandra's back. Not a smirk. Not sarcasm. Just a genuinely happy narrowing of his eyes. Only Eris saw that face. "[sad]…The worst." Staring down at her own lap, she murmured once more, her voice trembling this time. ◆ The score: two to two. The final fifth round. The arena's heat was on the verge of boiling over. Everyone held their breath, watching for the next move. Gustav folded his arms. A long, long silence. "[serious]…The first and second rounds, your data won. The fourth round—something involving that man, I presume." Gustav spoke quietly. His voice no longer carried any trace of confidence. Instead, it was filled with deep respect. "[sad]But in the fifth round—neither data nor signals will be of use. So what will you do?" Cassandra quietly closed her eyes. She erased Eris's notes from her mind. She banished Albert's code. The gazes from behind her, the cheers of the spectators—everything grew distant. All she remembered—was her father's voice. *'Listen, Cassandra. The essence of gambling is looking into your opponent's eyes. Not numbers. Not logic. Look into their eyes and read the soul behind them. That is what it means to win in the end.'* Her father, Leonhardt. The ledger he had risked his life to protect. And now, staking that very ledger, his daughter stood here. Cassandra opened her eyes. Her golden gaze pierced straight into Gustav's eyes. Gustav's pupils wavered, ever so slightly. His left eye moved—just a fraction of a second—to the right. (*His tell when he's certain of victory. His gaze drifts left—*) Eris's notes flickered through her mind for an instant. Then vanished. (*Is this a trap? Or—is it real?*) Don't think. Her father had said—look into your opponent's eyes. Cassandra gently extended her right hand forward. "Round five—" Her heart gave one great, pounding beat. "Rock, paper—" She could hear the spectators' breathing. Eris's. Albert's. And her father's. "—shoot!!" Cassandra's hand—scissors. Gustav's hand—paper. For an instant, every sound vanished from the arena. Then— "WHOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAA!!!" A thunderous roar, like the shaking of the earth, rocked the Pit Arena. "—Winner, Cassandra Vainford!!" The referee's voice, nearly drowned out, rang out triumphantly. Cassandra, silent, thrust her right fist into the air— "Stop that pose. It's genuinely embarrassing." A voice from behind. Cassandra's movement froze mid-gesture. "[angry]You—!! Can't you let me have ev

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Episode 7

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

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