Entertainment Hall: The Casino
"Hey, where are you off to again?"
"This time it's business. Twenty minutes, tops. Try not to complain too much, alright?"
I replied to Lunas, who was carrying a mountain of stuffed animals in his arms.
"And… what the hell is that?" I asked, pointing at the pile of fluff.
"Emma won a poker game," he said, "but instead of taking the cash prize, she asked for these."
He gestured toward a display shelf that looked like it had just been robbed.
"…Was she drunk?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
"Yeah. And somehow she's still drinking while playing poker."
Following Lunas's finger, I spotted a woman with long black hair cascading down her back. Her face was blank, one hand swirling a glass of red wine, the other shuffling cards with three other players.
Beside her sat Marcus, scowling like the cards were cursed objects.
"Marcus sucks at poker," I muttered, then glanced back at Lunas. "I mean, Emma's fine around me. I didn't think she was the drinking type—"
I stopped mid-sentence when I noticed the massive stuffed goldfish Emma was hugging like her life depended on it.
It was cute—until I saw the dark stains blotching its fabric.
"When she lost a hand earlier, she slammed that fish on the floor. Hard. And apparently, she said she's not allowed to drink at home or at school, so this is her 'rare chance' to go wild without her family watching."
Lunas shrugged and started walking toward her.
"Anyway, before you leave, meet me and Jane upstairs, alright? Won't take long."
"…Got it."
Lunas gave me a strange look—like he was trying to figure me out—before scanning me up and down.
"Tonight's supposed to be a good night, just like Emma said. It's great, isn't it?"
"I… guess I'm having fun," I forced a smile that looked about as real as a toothpaste commercial.
"…You've been cleaning up trash this whole time, haven't you?"
"Don't call them trash. They're still people," I said, still smiling.
"Then why didn't you tell us, huh?"
"What, so you could ruin my fun too?"
Crunch.
Lunas bit into a cookie from the snack tray, expression flat.
"Well, you just ruined mine," he said bluntly, then walked off toward Emma.
I glanced at Emma—now slumped over the poker table—and sighed.
I didn't have the energy to play along anymore.
The entire day had been exhausting—physical and reflex tests in the morning and afternoon, then fighting terrorists at night. My body ached, my mind felt hollow.And yet, despite everything—
—I'd killed again.
Sigh.
Killing never feels right. Why do novels make it sound so damn easy?
I grabbed a glass of grape juice, hoping it would help. It didn't.
"Oh—"
Then I choked.
I reached for my handkerchief—only to freeze.I couldn't feel anything.
Looking down at my left hand, I went completely still.
My skin had turned a corpse-gray.
When I tried to flex my fingers, they didn't bend—just writhed, flesh twisting like invisible hands kneading dough beneath the surface.
Tiny holes began opening on my palm, unnatural and wrong. And from them, something squirmed out—flesh like worms wriggling between the gaps.
The sight made my stomach lurch. I stumbled toward the bathroom.
BANG. BANG.
Each step grew heavier, as if something was dragging me down.
SLAM!
I crashed through the restroom door, dove into an empty stall, and vomited violently.
"—O-UGH, HAAAK—!"
Blood and bile splattered into the bowl—along with writhing, blood-soaked maggots. They looked like they'd just finished feasting on a corpse.
I nearly blacked out, forcing myself to stay conscious long enough to purge every last thing I'd eaten that day.
Hands trembling, I reached into my coat and pulled out a gold coin. Its faint glow contrasted harshly with the darkness around me.
I tried to put it in my mouth, failed, and let it drop.
Clink. Clink.
The coin hit the floor. But I picked it up again.
Ignoring the filth, I bit down on it—hard.
Pure gold is soft; my teeth sank into it easily, leaving deep marks.
Only then did my breathing steady. My face was pale, but my mind—finally—clear.
The price is closing in… Not good.
Every gift comes with a cost. Nothing's ever free.
…
Minutes later, I stumbled out of the restroom—only to be met with a familiar face.
Jane.
The staff member who'd helped me "clean up" earlier.
Jane wasn't just staff—she was my agent inside The Card. A Spade, trained for assassination and silent disposal.
Within The Card, the hierarchy was simple:
Spades handled assassinations and covert killings.Clubs ran underground operations.Diamonds managed intelligence and logistics.Hearts pulled the strings from behind the scenes.
Jane was here because, after those idiots triggered the bombs on their bodies, she'd used the chaos to eliminate the remaining targets.
"You look tired, boss," she said.
"Do I look fine to you? Give me a hand, will you?"
"Sorry, sir. Can't. They've got ways to track me if I get too close."
I rolled my eyes, barely suppressing a sigh.
"Anyway… I'll be leaving soon, so listen carefully."
"The Card plans to undermine our organization—by destroying our reputation."
"What do you mean? Why would they—"
"The best way to kill a man is through his name. The best way to kill a group is through infighting."
"This city's under our protection—One Line. If a major event like Five Fingers gets hit by large-scale terrorism, what do you think happens?"
I continued, my tone steady but heavy.
"The other syndicates will cut ties—or worse, turn against us. The nobles won't stay quiet either. And if The Card pulls this off, chaos will force us to spread thin across other cities. That means they've got backing—other gangs, maybe worse."
"And even if we find evidence, who'll believe it? They'll just claim the attackers were impostors trying to tarnish their name. If that works, everything vanishes—every lead, every trace."
"And when we're at our weakest, their spies can sow discord from within."
Silence lingered for a moment before Jane spoke again.
"I see… So what now?"
"Move to Diamond—Accounting."
"…Accounting? Oh. Right. I get it." She hesitated, then nodded. "Understood. Anything else?"
"Tell Lunas I'll assign his mission later. Now go."
"Alright. Goodbye, sir."
Jane turned to leave.
"…Wait."
She stopped, glanced over her shoulder.
"What is it, boss?"
"Thanks. For doing your job well."
She gave a faint, tired smile before walking off, her voice a near whisper as she disappeared down the hall.
"…There's no such thing as duty. Only profit—or the lack of it."