Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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「  ⊹ ࣪ ˖𝕽𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖘 𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊 𝕿𝖆𝖇𝖑𝖊- ,,⭑.ᐟ  」

: ̗̀➛ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ɢᴀᴍʙʟᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜰᴀᴛᴇ-ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴜʟᴇᴛᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇᴇʟ ꜱᴘɪɴꜱ, ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴛʜ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴᴇʏ. ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪᴄʜ ᴄɪᴛʏ ᴏꜰ ʀᴏꜱ ᴠᴇʏʀᴀ, ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴꜰᴀᴍᴏᴜꜱ ʜɪɢʜ-ʀᴏʟʟᴇʀ ᴅᴏɴɴᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀᴍᴇ: 'ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ.'
ᴅʀᴀᴡɴ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪꜰᴇ ᴏꜰ ɢᴀᴍʙʟɪɴɢ, ʜᴇ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏᴠᴇʀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜʀɪʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴡɪɴɴɪɴɢ.

ʙᴇᴛʀᴀʏᴀʟ ʟᴜʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀᴜꜱᴛ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀʀᴇꜱᴛ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴄʏ ᴏꜰ ᴀʟʟ. ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ɢᴀɪɴᴇᴅ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʟɪᴇꜱ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀɴᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀꜱᴋ ᴏꜰ ᴛʀᴜꜱᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏʏᴀʟᴛʏ? ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɢᴀᴍᴇ...ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴡɪɴꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏꜱᴇʀ ꜱᴛᴀɴᴅꜱ ꜱᴍᴀʟʟ

ʚ RECAP END ɞ

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𝙸𝙽𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙴𝚇𝚃𝚁𝙰𝚂

Hello, and welcome to 'Roses on the Roulette Table!' I'm your author, Khoii, and all illustrations for this story can be found on my socials:@khoi1i1

If you have any questions about the story's context or requests/enquiries, please leave them under the chapters to avoid spoiling anything for new readers. This is a Forsaken AU, therefore all characters belong to Forsaken, while much of the plot is built from my own original or inspired headcanons.

To everyone coming from my socials (and those who found this story on their own)—thank you so much for the support. It truly means the world to me. The fact that you enjoy my work motivates me endlessly, and I've gathered the time and courage to pour all my ideas into this story. I can't thank you all enough for inspiring me to create something that, hopefully, gives you the best experience possible.

This story will also be published on wattpad soon—so keep an eye out! It'll be under my name unless I personally announce otherwise.

UPDATES: I aim to update weekly, but please understand if I miss a date. I'm still a student (a minor, to be specific), and balancing education, assignments, and writing can be tricky. Thank you for your patience and understanding in advance!

Thank you for reading! Extra content is included below, offering additional context, background, and details to enrich the story—feel free to scroll down and explore!

- Khoii

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𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂

'Locations in Roses on the Roulette Table'

➤ Macau, China (Chance's hometown-birthplace)

➤ Barcelona, Spain

➤ Ros Verya, USA (Rewritten version of 'Los Angeles')

➤  Velour Palace Casino, Ros Verya, USA

➤ Builder Brother's Pizza, Ros Verya, USA

➤ Sonnellino Syndicate, Underground of Ros Verya, USA

and more...

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𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂

'Main characters in Roses on the Roulette Table'

【　ᛝ⸝⸝⸝⋮꒰...ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ... ꒱⋮⸝⸝⸝ᛝ　】

ׂ「 ╰┈➤ ɴᴀᴍᴇ : ᴄʜᴀᴏxɪᴀɴɢ 'ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ' ᴅᴇ ꜱᴀɴᴛɪᴀɢᴏ

: ̗̀➛ ɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ : ᴄʜɪɴᴇꜱᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴘᴀɴɪꜱʜ

: ̗̀➛ ᴅᴏʙ: ᴊᴜɴᴇ 7ᴛʜ, 2001

: ̗̀➛ ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟ ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ: ɢʀᴇʏ ꜱᴋɪɴ, ᴡɪᴛʜ (ᴅᴀʀᴋ) ɢʀᴇʏ-ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ ʜɪɢʜʟɪɢʜᴛꜱ, ᴡᴇᴀʀꜱ ꜱᴜɴɢʟᴀꜱꜱᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴇ, ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ꜰᴇᴅᴏʀᴀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴄᴀʀᴅꜱ, ᴅᴀʀᴋ ꜱᴜɪᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ꜰᴜʀ ᴄᴏʟʟᴀʀ-ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘᴇʀ ʙᴜɪʟᴅ ꜰɪɢᴜʀᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ʀᴇᴅ ᴇʏᴇꜱ

: ̗̀➛ ᴇxᴛʀᴏᴠᴇʀᴛ/ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴠᴇʀᴛ?: ᴇxᴛʀᴏᴠᴇʀᴛ (ᴇɴꜰᴘ)

: ̗̀➛ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇꜱ ʙᴀᴄᴋɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀɪꜱᴇᴅ:  ᴄʜᴀᴏxɪᴀɴɢ 'ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ' ᴅᴇ ꜱᴀɴᴛɪᴀɢᴏ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ʟɪᴀᴏ ᴍᴇɪxɪᴀɴɢ (ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ), ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴜᴄɪᴏ ᴅᴇ ꜱᴀɴᴛɪᴀɢᴏ (ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ). ʙᴇɪɴɢ ʙᴏʀɴ ɪɴ ᴍᴀᴄᴀᴜ, ᴄʜɪɴᴀ, ʜᴇ ʟɪᴠᴇᴅ ᴀɴ ɪꜱᴏʟᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʏᴇᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴀᴛ ꜰᴜɴ ʟɪꜰᴇ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɢᴇ ᴏꜰ 7 ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇ ꜱᴀɴᴛɪᴀɢᴏ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ᴄᴏɴꜰɪʀᴍᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴀʀᴄᴇʟᴏɴᴀ, ꜱᴘᴀɪɴ (ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇᴛᴏᴡɴ ᴏꜰ ʟᴜᴄɪᴏ ᴅᴇ ꜱᴀɴᴛɪᴀɢᴏ.) ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, 9 ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ (16 ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴏʟᴅ): ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴍᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʀᴏꜱ ᴠᴇʀʏᴀ, ᴜꜱᴀ. 」

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【　ᛝ⸝⸝⸝⋮꒰...ᴍᴀꜰɪᴏꜱᴏ...꒱⋮⸝⸝⸝ᛝ　】

「 ╰┈➤ ɴᴀᴍᴇ : ᴅᴏɴ 'ᴍᴀꜰɪᴏꜱᴏ' ꜱᴏɴɴᴇʟʟɪɴᴏ (ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ ᴅᴏɴ ᴄᴀᴛᴛᴀɴᴇᴏ)

̗̀➛ ɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ : ɪᴛᴀʟɪᴀɴ

: ̗̀➛ ᴅᴏʙ: ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 21ꜱᴛ, 1996

: ̗̀➛ ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟ ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ: ʏᴇʟʟᴏᴡ ꜱᴋɪɴ, ᴛᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀɴ, ᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴀ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ꜰᴇᴅᴏʀᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ-ʜᴇᴀᴠɪʟʏ ʟᴀʏᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴄʟᴏᴛʜᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀʀᴍ ʜɪᴍ. ʜᴇ ᴡᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴀ ʀᴏꜱᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ʙᴜɴɴʏ ᴘɪɴ ᴏɴ ʜɪꜱ ꜰᴇᴅᴏʀᴀ. ʟᴏɴɢ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ʜᴀɪʀ, ᴀꜱ ʜɪꜱ ꜰᴇᴅᴏʀᴀ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡꜱ ʜɪꜱ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʙᴜɴɴʏ ᴇᴀʀꜱ ꜱᴇᴡɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ʜᴀᴛ. ᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ, ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ꜰᴜʀ ʙᴏᴀ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴅᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜɪꜱ ᴏᴜᴛꜰɪᴛ.

: ̗̀➛ ᴇxᴛʀᴏᴠᴇʀᴛ/ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴠᴇʀᴛ?: ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴠᴇʀᴛ (ɪꜱᴛᴊ)

: ̗̀➛ᴍᴀꜰɪᴏꜱᴏꜱ ʙᴀᴄᴋɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀɪꜱᴇᴅ: ᴅᴏɴ 'ᴍᴀꜰɪᴏꜱᴏ' ꜱᴏɴɴᴇʟʟɪɴᴏ (ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴀꜱ 'ᴅᴏɴ ᴄᴀᴛᴛᴀɴᴇᴏ') ɢʀᴇᴡ ᴜᴘ ɪɴ ꜰʟᴏʀᴇɴᴄᴇ, ɪᴛᴀʟʏ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ, ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄɪɴɢ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀᴛɪᴄ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ. ᴀᴛ ᴀ ʏᴏᴜɴɢ ᴀɢᴇ, ᴍᴀꜰɪᴏꜱᴏ ʙᴇɢᴀɴ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀʀɴ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀɴ ʜᴇɪʀ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʏɴᴅɪᴄᴀᴛᴇ. ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ, ʙᴇᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ-ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀɴ ᴀᴛ 25 ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴏʟᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʀᴏꜱ ᴠᴇʀʏᴀ, ᴜꜱᴀ, ᴛᴏ ʟᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʏɴᴅɪᴄᴀᴛᴇ'ꜱ ɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅꜱ. 」

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𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂
'Reader discretion, please read before continuing forward as this story contains very graphic topics that can be sensitive.'

ˢᵗʳᵒⁿᵍ ᵈᵉᵖⁱᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ, ᵘˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ʷᵉᵃᵖᵒⁿʳʸ. ᶜᵘˢˢⁱⁿᵍ, ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ, ᵍʳⁱᵉᶠ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒˢˢ, ˢᵘᵇˢᵗᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᵃᵇᵘˢᵉ (ⁱⁿᵃᵖᵖʳᵒᵖʳⁱᵃᵗᵉ ᵘˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵈʳᵘᵍˢ) ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵒʳᵉ, ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵛᵉ ᵉˣᵖᵉʳⁱᵉⁿᶜᵉᵈ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗʳᵃᵘᵐᵃᵗⁱᶜ ᵉᵛᵉⁿᵗˢ, ⁱᶠ ᵘⁿᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗᵃᵇˡᵉ: ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ʳᵉᶠʳᵃⁱⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʳᵉᵃᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ᵗʰⁱˢ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ʰᵃˢ ˢᵉⁿˢⁱᵗⁱᵛᵉ ᵉˣᵖᵉʳⁱᵉⁿᶜᵉˢ.

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Thank you for reading!
'The house always wins...and the loser stands small...'

Chapter Text

'𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒔𝒏𝒕 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈-𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒓.'

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𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂

ᶜᵘˢˢⁱⁿᵍ, ʷᵉᵃᵖᵒⁿʳʸ ˢʰᵒʷᶜᵃˢᵉ, (ᵐⁱⁿᵒʳ) ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ ᵈᵉᵖⁱᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ

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The air inside the casino was thick with smoke and the faint tang of spilled liquor, a perfume that smelled like luck and desperation in equal measure. 

The velvet path winded down, through the machines that screamed 'jackpot,' every time someone won big. The bars that were filled with overly lustful customers, clinging onto people's arms. But no-one dared to approach the central table, the sound of chips thudding heavily on the table as distant shouting was heard. 

'This is bullshit! Another round you...filthy cheater!' The man spat, his teeth grinding. 

His hands gripped the edges of the velvet table, standing in frustration; his veins popping out from his forehead. The feeling of loss washing over him, grabbing a large stack of the last chips he had from his previous gamble. 

Slamming the towering chips, the other only smirked, disbelief flickered in his eyes. The coin rolling around between his slim fingers. Leaning back, he rested his feet on the table-placing one over the other. Flipping the coin, it shone under the light before a hand clasped around it.

The dealer shuffled the cards, his eyes focused on the two men infront of them. Flicking the two cards on the table, face down. 'Here are your hole cards.' The dealer informed, placing his hands behind his back.

The man picked up his cards in a hurry, fumbling with it as he slowly laid out his cards in his hands. A 3 of clubs and a 7 of diamonds. 

'You sure about that?' His voice was low and smooth, yet carrying enough mockery in his tone to make it sting.

The gambler took his own cards off the velvet table, viewing it with a neutral expression.He tilted his head, glasses glinting underneath the overhead ceiling light. The man noticed the large set of chips piled at their side of the table, a shiver running up his spine. 

He had no chances of winning against such a high roller in their own casino. Yet his ego was getting a hold over him. He swallowed, his adams apple bobbing, forcing a laugh that cracked halfway. 'Y-you don't even know what I have! Unless you're the cheater I said you were."

This man seriously doesn't know how to pull a face. He thought. His eyebrow twitching. The gambler rolled his shoulders, removing his feet from the table. He smoothly placed his cards back on the surface, his pointer finger softly digging into the plastic. 

The man mirrored the gambler, placing his cards down. His fingers trembling from anxiety.The other tapped his fingers on the table, while the other hand had his head resting on his palm. A sweat ran down his brow, swiping it off in a hurry.

He slowly smiled-it was crooked and uneasy. 'I bet $300.' He blurted.

The gambler whistled, a fox-like grin appearing on his face. 'I bet $1500.' He betted. The whole crowd watching from afar stopped their games to gasp and murmur.

Gasps rippled through the crowd-no one bet that much before the flop. He must be crazy! The man thought, his mind circling with confusion.

The man didn't argue, finalising the bet with the other. It felt like the atmosphere had shifted. It felt heavy and hot. The sweat on his face was bundling up on his forehead.The dealer flicked the cards from the deck, the cards landing with precision in front of the two men. He couldn't possibly gotten such bad cards to deal with. 'Let's see the flop.' The dealer announced.

An ace of spades, jack of spades, and 10 of spades.

Shit. Shit-Shit! The man's heart raced. His eyes widening in terror, peeking back at his hole cards. No hope. He couldn't back out now, it was too late.

He needed that money. He needed what he betted and couldn't possibly lose. His mind started circling, everything becoming hazy. It shouldn't have gone this way. He assured the dealer beforehand in the game to rig it for his win.

This shit-stained dealer! Of course he chose his stupid boss over money! He cursed. But the grip on the table told the other-sitting at the table, absent-mindedly-that there was a little problem with the play.

'Hmm...' The gambler-on the opposite side of the table-hummed. 'Not bad.' The intensity of the game wired up. Everything felt like the world was crashing down on the man. His lips quivering, his hands sweaty, and he couldn't miss the tension between him and the high-roller.

His lips slowly curled into a crooked smile, faking his worries. 'I bet $3000!' He declared.

The men standing behind him, looked at each other in pure horror. He had no money to pay for that. He would be in debt, and it could mean the end of his life if that was the final option.

The torture lingered in his mind. A sword stabbing into his chest as he coughed up crimson, spluttering it on the floor. His head being kicked, colliding with the concrete. His head pounding and it felt like his head would rip open at that rate.

He didn't know who managed debt in this country. But surely, he wouldn't get involved in such matters.The other listened intently, chuckling in amusement at the large raise. Double the money? This man knows how to put on a show. 

'I raise to $10,000.' The casino owner voiced, almost sounding as bored as to when he had to study back when he was younger. Those memories were still faint, yet weighed heavy.

The man froze. Three times his raise? Impossible. This guy's absurd! I can't pay for this anymore! 

Before he could say anything, the game continued in the other's favour. The dealer discarded the top card in the pile, and placed another community card. Fixing the cards in his hand, he stared at the two men again. 'Fourth street.'

The gambler raised a brow. Leaning back on his chair, a hand on his chin with his arm crossed. Meanwhile with the other, he wasn't doing so well. The desperation was fading at the second, his heart dropping as he stared at the card infront of them

A 6 of hearts.

He had none of those suits. A spade nor a heart. He couldn't possibly twist the game to his favour at this point in time. The murmurs sent his mind in a race.

'If this guy seriously doesn't continue...he'd really be a loser.' One whispered, as the other woman snickered in response.

'Ooh, that's not good for him. But let's just keep watching to see what he does with the casino owner!' The voice dragged, sounding like he brought another participant to watch the game.

When he thought this game wouldn't be watched, he was wrong. Everybody approached the centre table. The crowd bunching around, some shoving people to feel the thrill.

The dealer discarded the top card. The plastic landing on the floor, placing the deck in front of them. That was a subtle sign, the man knew exactly what to do. He couldn't possibly fold-his reputation would plummet, and his money would reach the negatives.

That left two options. Raise it higher, or call it. The man was practically biting his finger nails, he couldn't possibly raise it to something so much higher than what he has now.

He was stupid for challenging such an opponent. In truth, he had only played a couple of games, winning large sums. If only he didn't drink so often and gambled $2000 each time he played.

The man swallowed deeply, the lump in his throat still there. He couldn't get rid of it. 'I-I'll bet $10,000.' He stuttered.

Surely this guy wouldn't bet more! 

The other sat back straight, his posture now defined. His mouth was still in that-so called 'stupid'-grin. The man noticed. This maniac! What the fuck is he even thinking? 

'I bet...' The gambler's words trailed off. The tension increasing. The time ticking as more and more people leaned in to hear his decision. '$100,000 dollars.'

The crowd went berserk. The whispers and chatter rising to its peak as the dealer looked at the man-challenged with such a large sum on the table. He couldn't possibly beat it. 'I'll...I'll raise it to $100,000 too!' He proclaimed, everybody went quiet.

'You're a bold one!' The other laughed, fixing his fedora. 'Let's see how this turns out in the end, shall we?' He grimaced, his glasses laying low on his nose bridge. 

The dealer sighed, pressing a finger underneath the card on top of the deck. Turning it at its back, and placed the last card down. 'Last card.' They affirmed, glancing down at the cards presented.

The man couldn't help but feel panicked at its highest. The card wasn't so helpful to his deck. A 2 of diamonds? It was practically mockery to him. A 7 of diamonds and a 3 of clubs was worth nothing to the cards presented infront of them.

His hopes were broken. The dealer put away the cards, placing his hands at his back, standing as straight as ever. 'No more bets on this round.'

The man knew that. He didn't need to be informed. He tried this trick of trying to bet a third time in his other games, but if always failed. His chances of winning against this asshole was down to 0.5%. Maybe even more higher, if his ego was that preposterous.

The high-roller just stared at the man panicking infront of him. He couldn't help but scoff at his ridiculous decisions of raising the money so high. He gestured a man, who was standing behind him, to come to his side.

The man appeared beside him, leaning forward slightly to reach the height of the gambler. He whispered something in the man's ear, before he nodded and left.

The casino owner sighed, propping a arm on the table, while his hand rested in his palm. His expression could nearly be described as stultified, his mouth twitched faintly and his brows were furrowed.

He watched the man glance back at his hole cards hurriedly and the community cards laid in front of them. The sweat now wetting the expensive baize. The gambler's eyebrows convulsed-it wouldn't be much of an issue, but the feeling of smelling the foul odour of sweat and tears felt disgusting.

He shrugged it off, picking his cards up. As if on time, the dealer promulgated, 'Show 'em.' It was the glory word of the day for him, watching the other man tremble in his seat as he held his own hand. He chuckled, before tossing his cards on the velvet wool.

'Royal flush.' He presented, cheers erupted in the crowd. The tension hadn't lifted just yet, as the other man's cards landed softly in front of him. 

'I can't...how did I lose...' The man muttered, his hands weak. 'How the hell did I lose!?'

His yells silenced the crowd yet again. The gambler sighed, crossing his arms. 'Well, it was quite obvious,' he began, the other man's brows furrowing.

'What in the hell do you mean-!' The man spat, the gambler was sure his saliva was spitting like rain on him. The man slammed his hands down on the railing.

'You couldn't keep a face. It was obvious you had such a bad hand,' he pointed out. But before the other could respond, 'Don't think I didn't notice your glances at the dealer.'

'What-!' The other man exasperated. 'Don't be surprised, it was obvious,' The gambler pushed his chair back, walking around the table slowly. The man stiffened, his shoulders tensing.

It was like a battle between prey and predator. It felt as if everything had vanished, and it was only the man and the gambler in the room.

'You consistently stared at the dealer, back at the cards and then back to me so nobody would notice. You bribed the dealer with $1000 to win against me, didn't you?' He questioned, the man's legs weakened. His brown messy hair in tangles, the tips slightly soaked in sweat.

'I-I didn't-' The man started, his voice trembling.

'See? You're doing it again. You really are a bad liar. Now, let's see how much you owe...' He chimed, counting his fingers. '$100,000, plus another $1000 for trying to cheat...totalling up to...$101,000.'

He finalised, stopping behind the man. 'Unless you can't pay the sum...you can pay in other ways.' The gambler claimed, leaning over the man's shoulder.

The man shuddered from the gambler's breath on his neck, sending shivers down his spine. 'Like-Like what..?' He managed to croak out.

He chuckled, lifting a finger. 'One, you work for me until you can pay off your debt.' He enlightened-grimacing, as he watched the man quiver.

'Or two, you work for me until you pay your debt. Trust me, I'd prefer the first option!' He lifted a finger, a hand placed on the man's other shoulder.

The man did not want to work for an eternity. He would probably torture him right then and there if he chose the first option. It was practically selling your soul to the devil. 'I...' He began, his voice weak. Yet no words came from his mouth. His throat felt dry, he couldn't bring himself to speak anymore.

Pathetic. 

The casino owner chuckled, spinning something between his fingers. A metallic click cut through the crowd-not a coin this time, but the gleam of cold steel. He twirled the shotgun lazily, the trigger guard looping around his finger before he levelled it to the man's head.

'Careful,' he hummed, tilting his head. 'I'd hate to stain everything in this vicinity with blood. Now-what'll it be?'

'Fuck off!' The man slapped the gambler's hands away from his shoulder, bolting towards the crowd. His act provoking the casino owner to shoot, but his finger couldn't bring himself to. 

The high-roller sighed, crossing his arms as he watched the man scurry away. He gestured for security to get the man, following the signal, they chased after him. Yells telling him to 'stop,' and others were frantically looking around the chaos happening. 'Well, that calls for my very special alliance!' He chimed.

Taking out his phone from his pocket, there was a photo of him holding a large bunny, in which looked like a continental giant. The bunny was the colour of charcoal, and its eyes were wide and beady.

'Let's see...' He muttered, pressing the messaging app and scrolling through. His finger landed on a specific name, "Mr Sonnellino."

Taking a deep breath, he put the phone close to his ear, hearing the ringing. He stared at the ceiling, are any of them going to answer? He pondered. A gruff, serious voice answered, initially surprise struck him. But he knew exactly who this person was.

'Mr. Sonnellino is out, how can I help?' The person asked. The distant sounds of wild chatter muffled in the background.

'Hey Raf! How are ya'?' The casino owner chirped, his voice leaping into a more energetic tone.

'Raf' sighed, 'Hi, Chance. Now what do you want?' He huffed, Chance could imagine him kneading the sides of his nose. Chance began his little walk around the casino, luxuries placed everywhere. He couldn't help but laugh a little from Rafael's response.

'So, I gambled with a guy and they lost, obviously,' He assured, Rafael responding with a bored hum on the other side of the phone. 'They're in debt of $101,000, and I tried to get it back! They wouldn't back down, so... I called ya'!'

Silence was heard on the other line. Chance felt like he just got rejected even though he didn't. Until Rafael's voice spoke back up. 'Negotiated with the boss, we'll be there in a few.' Rafael advised smoothly, clipping the call short.

Chance landed back on a chair, tilting his head back. What a day. He considered, although throughout his whole life, he knows that there was probably worse.

He groaned, removing his glasses to reveal wine-red eyes. He winced, the light stung his retina. The dizziness hitting him unexpectedly. Placing an arm over his eyes, he couldn't help but turn his head to face the books in the shelves.

Atleast he didn't have to read books anymore. He could remember the days on where he'd sit in his short wooden chair in his room, doing nothing more than studying.

He hadn't visited his parents in a long time. Their nagging and scolding everytime he wanted to have fun was relentless. Being called to his father's office everytime he did something 'improper.'

Chance sighed, letting his arm fall back to the arms of the chair. His eyes stung, but he didn't feel like doing all that much today. Before he could shut his eyes, an idea popped in his head. Something so extraordinary that could cure his everlasting boredom.

Picking himself up from the chair, he played his glasses on and walked off. He had always took notice of the paintings tha he installed a while ago on the walls. Especially the renessaince ones, the details were intricate-enough to be claimed to be painted from the heavens above.

It drove Chance into curiosity sometimes if he could ever paint a marvellous painting like those. He traced a finger on the gold frame, the surface uneven yet crafted carefully.

His walk felt like he was walking through the hallway of an art gallery. The Sonnellino Family really did pay attention to details said in the contract.

The casino was so dear to Chance, it reminded him of some sort of haven to escape to. It felt safe. Although many crime rates have risen inside his casino, it could always be solved with just a few clever words from his mouth. 

He chuckled to himself, reaching the exit of the casino. It was as nearly as wide as a church door, with glass and gold painting the walls. He faced the security guard, a grimace plastered on his face. 'I'll be back in a few, tell me if anything happens, alright?' He informed.

Walking through the revolving glass doors, it felt like forever since he's touched the concrete outside of his casino. It was dark, small dots lit up the navy sky.

It was relaxing to view the scenery. The sound of the trees rustling in the distance, and the birds all fallen asleep in their nests. There was nothing better than inhaling the fresh air outside.

There were people still walking around the paths, chatting with one another as Chance remained lonely throughout his whole walk.

He had never imagined what he would do if he ever did find a partner. The thought left unanswered to him, arriving at the large restaurant in front of him.

'This place always brings back the memories!' He chirped, pushing the glass door forward. It was not so filled with customers at this time of day.

Chance sauntered in, hands in his pockets-whistling a tune. Placing an elbow on the counter, he waited patiently for the worker to turn around.

'Sorry, I-' The male apologised, lifting his head up from the register. His hand about to press the four options they had on the menu.

Chance laughed, 'Heya El! Long time no see!' He removed his arm from the counter, placing his hands on his hips.

'Hey, Chance!' The man greeted, a smile appearing on his face. 'Just the usual, or would you like something different?'

'Hmmm...I don't know, Elliot...!' Chance pondered aloud, tapping a hand on his chin. A humming noise coming from his throat.

Elliot shrugged, placing the loose blonde strand hair behind his ear. 'Can't say there's anything new at the moment. Dad's been busy lately to get new ingredients.' He sighed, crossing his arms.

Chance groaned playfully, 'Mr Builder isn't that busy! Plus, oh-surely you can make something like..cool! Like-uh...half marinara and half chocolate! Fuck yeah that'd be cool!' He proclaimed, clearly enjoying his stupid made up combo.

Elliot blinked, his mouth curling into something that matched the word, 'disgusted.' 'That sounds absolutely horrendous. No wonder you only worked at the front and not in the kitchen.' 

The gambler gasped, like an arrow had been plunged into his heart. 'Okay, now hold on! You cannot tell me you have never, ever had a weird pizza combo you've thought about!' He retorted.

The blonde-haired rolled his eyes. All he could hear was Chance's voice just blabbering in the background, while he clicked the buttons to place his friends order.

'So, you gonna pay or not, Chance?' Elliot held the payment terminal in his hands, clicking the screen a few times before showcasing it to the high-roller.

The casino owner inspected it closely, before standing back straight. 'Surely you'll give me a free meal for being the best, right?' Chance smiled. Under that face was clearly him pleading, begging on his knees to avoid pay. 

The pizza man glanced back at the terminal, then back to Chance. Elliot gave up and lightly placed down the terminal, giving Chance a 'you better make it up to me' look. 

The grey-haired's smile widened, as if a bright aura was radiating around him at that moment. 'Gee, thanks, El! You're the best!' He claimed, his happiness infecting Elliot from a shilort distance.

Happiness does bring others around you to be happy too.

Elliot dragged a hand down his face, his eyebags were slightly dark and his eyes drowsy. Had he been sleeping often? Chance wondered, his best friend would never destroy his sleep schedule.

Well, not that he knows of. It had been many years since he's been friends with Elliot. From the moment he moved to Ros Verya, and to now. It felt like time moved so quickly.

He still remembered the day he moved to Ros Verya. A suitcase dragging behind him, his hair messy and damp from rain, and he only had his signature black fedora, shades and headphones with him.

The rain poured hard, as he stood under a roof outside. Passerby's walking past him, some even staring at him, disbelief in their eyes. 

Chance sighed, his stomach churned an rumbled for food. His plan of moving away from his family was difficult. He only had a couple of $1000 bucks stolen from his parents.

He knew that they wouldn't notice if there was money missing out of their bank. If their child went missing. Because Chance knew that they were too busy for him.

They did nothing but give him more studying. Wanting him to go to a prestigious academy, speaking both Spanish, Chinese and English. Achieve a scholarship. Go to university. Graduate. Find a wife. Have children.

It was like his life was meticulously planned by his parents the second he was born into the world. He could imagine a large board filled with activities he had to perform everyday. His whole life plan to become successful.

I felt like it was too much for him to handle at a young age.

But, he followed it against his will. Yet still managed to cause chaos in his household whenever he went missing.

Those memories were awfully vivid to him. He couldn't remember more if he wished to. Chance sat down at a booth, propping an elbow on the table. He laid his chin on his palm, staring off in the distance.

'Hey, food's here.' Elliot cut through the silence. Chance nearly jumped from the sudden intrusion.

He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. 'Thanks man!' He thanked the other, who slid in the opposite seat.

Elliot removed his hat from his head. His blonde hair cascading on his shoulders. Chance had barely noticed that his hair had grown much longer last time he visited. 'I'm on break, so just wanted to have a chat.'

Chance smiled, taking a pizza off the large silver tray. 'What do you wanna talk about Els?' He asked, stuffing the pizza in his mouth. The salty flavour enveloping his taste buds.

Elliot watched Chance take large bites from the pizza. The pepperoni slipping off gradually as he took more bites. 'Oh, I just wanted to ask how you've been. Nothing much!' Elliot told the other.

Chance had already stuffed himself with nearly half the pizza remaining. He hadn't had this in a long time. It felt like euphoria everytime he took another bite.

He paused his eating, looking at Elliot before smiling big from ear to ear. 'Aw, thanks El's! I'm doing quite well!' Chance playfully assured.

'Although-' He paused. A pang of guilt struck him, knowing he couldn't tell Elliot anything within the casino.

It was private information. Elliot would probably lectureship if he found out what type of deadly games he's been playing. He knew that his best friend wouldn't know the thrill in gambling all the time, so he shut his mouth.

Elliot raised a brow at the cut sentence. 'What, Chance?' He asked, curiosity gnawing at him.

Whatever! I'll just tell him at this point.

Chance swallowed. He's not scared of his best friend. Well maybe some form of degree of scared. 'So...I gambled today!' Chance began, as Elliot followed with a groan.

'What did you do this time?' Elliot rubbed the sides of his nose. Chance would always cause ruckus when they were still teenagers. Considering how long Elliot has been friends with him, he had gotten used to his not-so-good decisions.

'And I won against this guy...' Chance added, taking his sweet time. Elliot just stared at him with a deadpanned expression. 'But he wouldn't pay back the money! So...! It was quite a handful for me today!'

Deadass? Elliot thought. Of course his best friend would have to deal with these issues every now and then. He simply couldn't leave it till the end.

But it had been a couple of months since Chance last visited. His mind wondered what his diet was like at the casino. Perhaps a luxury meal, or something beneficial for the stomach. He's learned that Chance was born from a rich family, making himself rich now. But if all he had was pizza, wouldn't he have grown tired of it?

He surely had. Elliot grew up living nearby the restaurant. A family thing of theirs to start off young to build skills, and eventually become the manager. He's been brought home warm, nearly freshly-cooked pizza's after his father came back home.

It had been a daily routine, until he got tired of having it. The taste didn't roll off his tongue anymore. It felt too oily and greasy to eat. That if he took just one bite, he would spit it out.

'Ey, Els?' Chance called, waving a hand infront of Elliot's face. Perking up from his name, he frantically glanced around. Only to realise it was just Chance telling him to stop dreaming. 'You good?'

The question caught Elliot off guard. Sighing, he nodded his head. Taking a glance at the tray, he noticed everything was gone. 'You're done with this right?' Elliot questioned, pointing at the tray.

'Yep!' Chance answered, picking up the tray as Elliot shuffled out of the booth. 'You goin' back to work now, El's?'

Elliot nodded in response, grabbing the tray off of Chance's hand's. 'Yeah, you should probably go. It's late now.' Elliot suggested, walking off and placing his hat on his head.

Chance felt full, he didn't want to stand up. But Elliot was right. It was pretty late now. Having dinner at 11PM just became a daily routine for him ever since he began gambling. Chance hobbled out of the seat, brushing off his suit jacket. Placing a hand in his pockets, he waved a farewell to Elliot with his other. 

The night breeze touched his face once again. The faint smell of pizza still lingering outside. He sighed, I still have a long way to get back. Chance thought, turning around and walking off. His hands were still placed in his pockets.

He hadn't noticed the change in temperature from when he was walking to the restaurant and now. It felt colder. Like it was going to snow at one point. But he never paid attention to those weather forecasts broadcasted everyday.

Taking off his fedora, he ran a hand through his grey hair. Looking at it, his highlights were fading. I should probably dye it again. 

Chance looked up at the night sky. While his parents never taught him about astronomy, he knew a couple of things. 

Some stars are far away that by the time their light reaches us, they've already died...but we still see them shining.

He read that in some sort of article he found when he still a child. Venturing in the manor's library without anybody noticing that he was gone from his room.

He often sat there, reading things that peaked his interests when he was younger. Rockets, the moon, sun and some planets if he could remember the names of them.

Chance softly smiled, remembering the times where he got caught and got sent back to his room. His life was truly chaotic the time he stepped into this world.

He had minimal love from his parents. But, he pondered on his own relationships. Smiling, he turned and continued to walk forward.

Even if the universe keeps expanding...some stars still manage to find each other's light.

Maybe one day, I'll find mine too.

Chapter Text

'𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖍𝖎𝖒 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖑...𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝖔𝖋 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖘, 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖓'𝖙 𝖜𝖗𝖔𝖓𝖌.'

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𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂

ʳⁱⁿᵏⁱⁿᵍ, ᵐⁱⁿᵒʳ ᶜᵘˢˢⁱⁿᵍ, ᵐⁱⁿᵒʳ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ ᵈᵉᵖⁱᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ, ˢᵐᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ

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Chance sighed, the cold air breezing past his arms. His hands felt frigid, almost like it needed something to help keep warm in the winter season. Thin gloves wouldn't help, but bulky gloves wouldn't suit so much with his outfit.

He heard the distant murmurs of pedestrians on the sidewalk. Their mouths curved upwards into soft smiles. Most were with their partners, lovingly grinning at each other-speaking to their hearts content.

Chance had none of that. Well, not that he knew of exactly. He didn't find love in this world, he was always a "hopeless romantic" like Elliot had claimed he didn't think he would be.

Sure Chance had fell for multiple guys, maybe even women too if he wasn't all picky. He was a rich man, who owned a casino they frequently visited.

Why would they not use him for it?

The grey-haired groaned, the large billboards of advertisements highlighting the dim, black-and white streets of Ros Verya. It felt line a vintage movie, playing on repeat with its monochrome colour scheme.

Glancing up, he found the same advertisement he made for his casino. His face plastered on the screen, with his flashy-red outfits. The red fedora, shades, and headphones catching his attention more.

'Feelin' lucky? Come to Velour Palace Casino!' It shouted directly to him. Come to think of it, Chance had never noticed how far he's come with his business.

Yet, his workload was filled to the brim with arguments, fights, cheating, and loiterers who can't help but get drunk on the spot. His own bartenders don't even have the energy to manage it themselves.

Chance felt his feet move on instinct, like it was begging to go back to the casino to ignore his whining and his old stories. He couldn't help but chuckle.

His life was embedded into the addiction of gambling. He couldn't simply remove it with just the flick of a coin, or the help of a therapist. It was simply the life he had adapted to instead of running himself on exhaustion doing nothing but studying.

Pushing through the revolving doors, he had made it back to his safe-haven. His one and only place he would love to call home. Customers filled the empty spaces. Women in tight dresses caressing and placing their lips on men's ears, dragging it to their neck in pure seduction. The sounds of glasses clinking together, people chanting "chug" at the large bar in the corner.

Everything was set perfectly to what Chance imagined the casino to be. He placed his hands on his hips, a small grin appearing on his face as he watched a couple of games in the distance.

'Now what do we have here, eh?' A deep voice cut through Chance's thoughts. The sounds rolling off their tongue sent shivers to their spine. His shoulders stiffened in response, before a hand was placed reassuringly on his left shoulder.

Chance sighed in relief, it was only the one person he could trust as much as he wanted to. The only person who was 'interested' in dealing with his delusions. 'Hey, Maf!' Turning around, greeting him with a smug smile.

The other hummed in response. It was clear as day that he prefers to have his actions speak more than his words. Removing his hand from the gambler's shoulders, he crossed his arms.

He was extremely tall, not normal tall-he was generally taller than his age. His black hair cascaded over his shoulders, as his fedora shadowed his piercing eyes. Chance took note that the man did take a liking to roses-one planted on the band of his hat. 

The rose's petals fell onto the brim of his hat, it's colour fading into a blackish-red instead of keeping its vivid colour. 'You wanna change that rose?' Chance pointed out, his eyes tinged with curiosity.

The man didn't reply, his head focused on another thing, while his fingers tapped impatiently on his arm. Chance blinked, his question left hanging off a cliff. Alright, maybe he doesn't like small talk! 

Mafioso turned to face him, the shadow in his face still following his head movement. 'We've nearly captured the culprit.' He reported, his voice holding weight.

The gambler grimaced, he had forgotten about the cheater. The weight of his shoulders lifting from the mafia's word. 'Thanks, man! I don't know what I could do without you!' Chance commented, placing a hand on his hip, then on Mafioso's shoulder.

He had to reach for the man's shoulder, nearly tumbling over from how excruciatingly tall he is. He patted the spot, giving him attention. However, the black-haired wasn't very fond of this action.

Mafioso groaned subtly, the noise vibrating from his throat as Chance perked up from it. Slowly removing his hand, he chuckled awkwardly-rubbing a hand behind his neck. Mafioso could've just swatted his hand away, but that works fine too.

The high-roller frantically glanced around the area, the awkward silence was louder than anything at the moment. He could feel a piercing stare from behind his head.

'Uh...-' Chance blurted out, keeping his voice low. Turning his head around, he was greeted by hazel-gold eyes concentrated on him from the side. Yet Mafioso's stare hardened by the time Chance stared at him.

Mafioso did not waste a second, his eyes darting towards a group of men scurrying towards him. They were extremely loud. But Chance didn't seem to mind, a smile plastered on his face as he saw the familiar faces.

They all tumbled over each other in front of the Mafia Boss, getting trapped in each other's feet as they tried to get up. Mafioso's eyes twitched, sighing while he rubbed his temples.

All couldn't help but greet the boss in enthusiasm, untangling their final leg from each other. 'Boss!' They all acknowledged in unison, their tones varying from deep to high-pitched.

The high-pitched certainly caught his interest, he could've just guessed who it was but it was not obvious. A mafia member was happily hopping on anothers back, grinning stupidly. 'Anton get off of me!' He declared, flailing his arms.

Chance looked at all the four men, one had a tophat, one had shades, one had a ushanka, and one had a cap. He could tell which one was who, but he didn't recognise the one with the cap.

'Is that a new guy or-...' Chance's words drifted off, staring at Mafioso. The Mafia Boss didn't answer immediately, his eyes concentrated on finding the culprit amongst his men. 

'You like running your mouth a lot, gambler.' He observed Chance like he was some kind of insect. He'd already noticed how short he was compared to him, maybe around the height of 5'8. 

'Thank's Maf, thanks.' He muttered flatly, frowning from the mockery. He was not that short. He was a perfectly normal height for people to like him. Girls fawned over him-atleast he thought so.

The taller man took a step forward, patting his goons on the head. 'You did well, men. I'll reward you with pizza later.' He stated, his tone still as sharp and plain as a blade.

The four men beamed in delight;  some were not good with showing it, but their eyes showed it all. 'I didn't know the tough Mafia Boss could be so soft!' Chance teased, a smug grin appearing on his face.

Mafioso's shoulders tensed, slowly turning his head to glare at the gambler. '...Gambler.' He growled, a hiss through his teeth. 

'My bad, my bad!' He drawled. Chance lifted both his palms in surrender, grin crooked and unbothered. Sure he was a chatterbox and spoke his mind everytime, but he found himself asking anything that piqued his interest.

Mafioso huffed, walking away from the gambler. 'You gave a knack for annoying the boss, do ya' Chance?' One of the men chuckled. Chance glanced their way, and before he realised it-he just laughed.

'It's fun seeing him get worked up because of me.' He smiled, his laughter fading as he didn't know who he was talking to. A figure appeared beside him without notice, making Chance jump a little.

The man sighed, fixing his tophat. '...Chance, this is Anton Kowalski. The new contractee after the previous one retired.' Rafael introduced, Anton waving in response-still hyper. 'Let's just say that the difference between the old and new are significant.' Rafael added, whispering closely to Chance's ear.

The grey-haired let out a short laugh. 'Then I suppose you should remind me who the other 3 are.' Chance chirped, still watching Mafioso disappear into the shadows of the casino's walls.

Rafael pointed at the man in the shades, 'Caporegime, Giancarlo Moretti.' Rafael conveyed. Giancarlo perked up at his name, finding that the gambler was staring back at him with a smile on his face.

He blinked, placing his hands back behind his back to appear formal. Rafael continued, crossing his arms but directed Chance's vision to another man. The man was carrying Anton on his back, his ushanka slightly coming off his head. 'Soldier, Marco Bianchi. Doesn't talk a lot, he puts up with Kowalski.'

The tophat sighed, staring back at Chance. 'I suppose I don't need to introduce myself.' Rafael remarked, seeing the other men scurry off to find the culprit once again.

Chance chuckled, waving a short goodbye to Rafael, who decided to accompany the res of the goons on their mission. The grey-haired drew a breath. The casino was still lively as always, the sounds of rolling and chatting were still music to his ears.

That reminded Chance, I should go to the slot machines! He whistled, tucking both hands in his pants-sauntering over to the aisles of machines. There were still some people gambling their luck, only to be struck with nothing in return.

A customer kicked the machine, and Chance freaked out. His hat jumping off his head as he yelled, 'Hey, man! Those aren't easy to fix if you kick 'em!' The other looked at him and scoffed, kicking the slot machine one last time before walking off.

The gambler exhaled in relief, softly gripping the brim of his fedora-adjusting the hat to stay comfortably on his head. '人们真的需要停止踢机器！'  (Translation:  People really need to stop kicking the machines!) Chance murmured, walking towards the used machine.

Crouching down, placing a hand on the slot machine's cold exterior-he felt a slight dent. He was rich, yes-but fixing a slot machine just because there was a madman! Chance sighed, scratching his head before a shadow loomed over him.

Chance shuddered, why is it so dark all of a sudden? He wondered, looking to his sides-seeing nothing but more slot machines. 'Hey, if you could-' Chance uttered, standing up before he was greeted with a bleeding face that looked very familiar. 

His shoulders stiffened from the sight, before the man got thrown to the corner. He was...tied up? '...If I could what, Chance?' Mafioso pressed, his tone leaving no room for escape. He towered over Chance, backing him against the slot machine.

'Maf-you scared me!' Chance exclaimed, gripping the sides of the slot machine. Giving a sheepish laugh, the Mafia Boss noticed and stepped back. Although he didn't like the gambler all that much, respecting his boundaries would be the kindest thing he's offered today. 

Other than the culprit-sitting and panting in the corner. Chance glanced over, the rope was tied around their mouth, legs and arms. Their face bleeding out, with scars on his face more than his arms or legs. The rope was starting to stain with blood, and some dripping onto the carpet below.

His nose wrinkled as he spotted the droplets. 'Really? On the carpet? That's a cleaning bill I wouldn't wanna pay.' A complaint slipping from his lips. Chance couldn't even imagine the cost of having to replace the carpet again.

The gambler made his way over to the dishevelled one, crouching down and staring intently at his facial features. A brown stubble, a blocky-like head with autumn, brown hair. There were cuts over his freckles, and his eye was bruised so badly Chance could notice developing swelling. 

He was curious, not because of what Mafioso did to this cheater, but the fact that he didn't get his name yet. Chance grabbed his chin, tilting his head upwards to stare into his eyes. Light blue, huh. 'I can't exactly tell my buddy Mafioso, "oh yeah, some nameless punk owes me 100K." Chance started, flicking his gaze over to Mafioso-frowning at the friendly nickname. 'So-what's your name?'

The man writhed, making a weak attempt to break the ropes. 'You already did, gambler.' Mafioso's voice cut through, his eyes narrowed under the shadow. Chance patted the guy's shoulder, a crooked smile appearing on his lips.

'Don't mind him! So-...' The high-roller's words trailed off, seeing the man's tears roll down his face. Chance sighed, this was brutal behaviour. Something that he doesn't do-atleast he think he doesn't. He scratched his head, leaving no room for thinking.

Looking back at Mafioso, his eyes under the shades were filled with guilt. 'Hey-Maf, maybe we should just keep this guy on record.' Chance suggested, standing back up and brushing his suit off.

The man stared at the gambler, his eyes softening with a clear "Thank you." Chance shrugged it off, giving the man a small smile before Mafioso brought his men over to untie the poor guy. The second he was untied, he walked straight past the group in a hurry. Keeping his head down, but giving a small glance to Chance.

He is quite a handful, but atleast he does have manners. Chance thought, pleased with himself.  Although most people wouldn't agree with his strategy, atleast he had a heart and doesn't speak with their mind.

Those people...starts with M and ends with O. The casino owner stretched their arms above their head, a silver of skin poking out from their untucked dress shirt. Pulling his arms down, his gaze met Mafioso's. Yet his gaze was filled with irritation more than gratified.

Chance gave a brittle laugh, quickly turning his look away from the Mafia Boss. 'So...' The gambler drawled, smirk tugging at his lips. 'Wanna go grab a drink? My treat obviously.' He added with a wink, already halfway to the bar.

Mafioso's eyes twitched. A drink? With the gambler? 'No.' He responded dryly, signalling his men to follow him out the casino. Chance didn't know whether he should reach out or just stayed silent. All he knew is that he loves taking risks.

'Aw, c'mon, that's it? Just "no"? You're breaking my poor heart here, Maf.' Chance whined, teasing laced in his voice while Mafioso kept walking away, ignoring his persistence. The casino-owner obviously didnt know Mafioso as well as his men, it had only been nearly a year since they've begun their contract. Limited conversations, but funding ongoing.

Chance decided to push his luck once more. Surely Lady Luck will be on my side today! The gambler skipped to keep up with Mafioso. 'Guess I'll just walk with you 'til you change your mind.' Chance chimed, continuing to walk beside the black-haired.

Mafioso stopped in his tracks, the silence cutting sharp through the night. His gaze slid sideways, flat but unreadable. Chance nearly tripped over his steps from how long he's been keeping up with him.

'...You don't shut up, do you?' He muttered, tugging his coat tighter. For a heartbeat, Chance thought it was going to be another rejection coming towards his way. He was never this pushy with Mafioso...actually maybe he is.

Then, with a low exhale, '...Fine. One drink. Don't push your luck.' Chance beamed, maybe Lady Luck is really on my side today! Winning a game and convincing Mafioso to have a drink with him...surely that was a sign that his day couldn't get any better.

Chance's grin was immediate, wide, and smug. 'Knew you liked me.' He quipped, nudging Mafioso playfully. Mafioso's jaw tightened imperceptibly; he didn't speak, but a twinge of regret  threaded through him.

'I never said I liked you, Chance.' Mafioso stated, his eyes drifting away from the gambler. 'There's a difference between tolerance and liking.' He remarked, the sharp tone in his voice sent shivers down Chance's spine.

Chance rolled his eyes under his shades. Without a word, the gambler sauntered towards the bar,  leaving Mafioso no choice but to follow behind him. Meanwhile, the goons just stood at their places in confusion.

As they crossed the casino floor, the grey-haired whistled, weaving through the small crowds surrounding the tables. Every few steps, they would glance back with that infuriating grin. 'See? Not so bad right? Fresh air, good drinks, me-what else could you want?'

It wasn't exactly fresh as they claimed it was. Mafioso could see at the corner of his eye-a small group of smokers leaning against the railing, the acrid smell hitting his nose. He didn't bother softening his tone. '...It reeks of smoke.' He scoffed.

Chance shrugged his comment off, the scent of ash and cheap perfume lingering in the air. Arriving at the bar, every couple of seats were occupied-there so happened to be two spare seats sitting right next to each other. Chance grinned, plopping himself down and patting the seat beside him.

Mafioso's lips pressed down into a hard line. He lowered his body down into the chair, his silence speaking louder than his words. Chance caught the sour look-only grinning wider as he flagged down the bartender anyways. 'Mind pouring us your best? Don't make it fancy, just something good enough to impress him!'

Chance spoke light-heartedly to the bartender, nodding to his request. After all, he couldn't reject what the boss desired unless he wanted his cheque to plummet. The gambler flashed a smile before facing back towards the tensed Mafia Boss.

The silence between the two didn't last for long-Chance would never be the type to let it. 'You don't talk much, do you? Guess that means I've gotta talk enough for the both of us.' Chance stationed his chin on his palm.

Mafioso's gaze lingered on the glasses lining behind the bar, jaw tight. 'I said yes to a drink, not a conversation.' He replied flatly, yet there was faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. It wasn't quite a smile, but wasn't pure disdain either. 

Chance smirked. 'Lucky for you, the drinks not here yet. So technically, I'm just killing time.' Chance spun around on his chair, while the other just watched in silence. 'Unless you'd rather sit here in silence staring at bottles like statues.' The gambler continued, his words sing-song.

It was not until 2 minutes later, the bartender had slid their glasses on the counter. The small clinking breaking the tension between the two. Chance found himself grabbing his glass first, lifting it towards Mafioso. 'Cheers for your patience. You're gonna need it whenever I'm around.' He teased, waiting for the other to lift his glass with him.

For a beat, Mafioso didn't move, his expression hadn't changed since they've arrived at the bar-irritated. With a moment of hesitation, he wrapped his fingers on the glass-clinking it lightly against the gambler's.

He exhaled, his stare hardening as he looked at Chance. '..Don't push it.' Mafioso stated, shaking his glass lightly in a circular motion. The ice cubes were hitting against the thick glass, as the small set of whiskey trailed into the air.

'I'm definitely pushing it.' Chance grinned smugly, putting the cup to his lips and quickly downing it. Meanwhile, Mafioso was taking moderately large sips of his drink, savouring it even though he felt like he shouldn't.

3 more drinks later for Chance, his face was flushed with a tinge of rosy-pink. His movements looked tired, but his fave showed no sign of stopping. The gambler's smile was still plastered on his face, while hiccups filled the empty silence.

He wasn't exactly a lightweight, his alcohol indulgence can surpass one definitely. But the thought of not being a lightweight changed when Mafioso-who was on his 4th glass-hadn't succumbed to the effects. He barely showed no sign of being drunk.

Chance decided to test the water's by asking the Mafia Boss some questions, hoping to get answers he may not expect. 'Soo...why do they call you the Devil, huh? You don't look that bad, unless you're hiding something from-hic-me.' The gambler asked with teasing curiosity, his grin widening at the second.

Chance leaned forward, brushing a finger against Mafioso's hair under his hat. His hair feels nice... Chance thought, caressing parts of his hair-not noticing the glare coming from the Mafia Boss. 'Hands off, gambler.' He demanded, finishing his glass.

The gambler found themselves laughing, their hand retracting from Mafioso's hair. 'Wanna answer my question...or...' Chance's words drifted off, leaning more closely towards the Mafia Boss.

Mafioso didn't bother creating distance between them anymore, their mind slightly foggy from the alcohol. He couldn't think straight, but compared to the gambler, he looked like he was sober. '...That's none of your business.' Mafioso dismissed. 

'Oh, c'mon, Maf! Answer my question or atleast lighten up!' Chance pressed, downing his 5th glass. His head was spinning, and his movements were getting sloppier and sloppier every time he finished another.

The other remained silent, looking at Chance in the eyes now, gold eyes staring at the red ones. He had never noticed the red in Chance's eyes, since he wore those shades so much. But being more educated, Mafioso assumed it was a condition.

That was until Chance noticed him gazing intently in his eyes, a smirk tugging the sides of his mouth. 'You keep starin' like that, I'm gonna think you're getting sweet on me.' The gambler chimed, still keeping eye contact with the Mafia member.

'Tch...' Mafioso spat, shattering the tension between them. He didn't want to hear Chance's teasing anymore. He'd already tolerated it enough for a day, he couldn't last for another 1 hour with the gambler.

Chance's sigh came out uneven, hitching into a chuckle before it faded. 'Well, since you like my eyes so much...' Chance started, his gaze focused on the empty glass in front of him. 'Might as well tell ya' if you're so interested.'

Mafioso's ears perked up, not because he wanted to know about Chance-but to see whether his theory was correct. He didn't necessarily despise the gambler, but he wouldn't categorise it either into loving or liking him.

'I was born with 2 conditions, y'know? Think-uh... myopia...and melanin.' Chance pondered, agreeing to his statement before continuing. 'That's why I wear these shades a lot, since my eyesight is shit and why I have an unnatural hair colour.' He explained, twirling the melting ball of ice with his finger.

Chance couldn't help but grin from what he said. Having both wasn't a bad thing, but it had natural consequences to his sensory and appearance. From what he told Mafioso, it was true.

His eyesight was not the best; he didn't bother visiting a doctor since his parents weren't there all that much for him. He soon forgot he even had the condition ever since he started wearing his signature shades. The light stung his eyes-and due to that, he's accomplished both slightly blurry vision and weak sensitivity to light.

Chance could remember the first time he had stepped out of the house as a kid, other children wondered why he had such unique hair. Without the highlights and the flashy look, his hair felt plain almost as if his whole appearance came from the 1900's.

But even so, there was diversity in Ros Verya. Not so much in his home countries, but he's grown accustomed to it. There was always a beauty standard, and of course-his parents never told him-, that he fitted them. He just lived a life believing that his appearance was just enough.

Chance shook his head, forgetting he was with Mafioso. '...Sorry-I-uh...zoned out.' He apologised, rubbing a hand behind his neck while looking at Mafioso with sincerity.

He was expecting a dismissal-like always from the Mafia Boss, but instead, he received a hum. Mafioso was already finished with his drinks, and so was he. But he didn't expect him to listen to his rambling, not at all.

The bartender walked over, asking the two whether they'd like a refill. Chance grinned, politely answering "no." There was no money needing to be paid by Chance, since he manages the casino and he pays for the liquor. 

Before he could stand up, Mafioso was already standing brushing the sides of his coat off. He didn't bother saying a "goodbye" to Chance, simply spinning on his heel and walking away with no comment.

Chance noticed, waving a sluggish goodbye to the Mafia Boss. Before seeing him turn his head, staring right at him. 'See you around, gambler.' His tone carried nothing-no warmth, no threat, just facts. Not lingering any longer, he turned away and continued walking while his goons followed closely behind.

He thought he wouldn't say any sort of goodbye to him, but maybe that worked too. Chance smiled softly, before a slightly throbbing pain hit his head. Ugh...this is what I get for drinking. He whined, dragging himself towards the casino's elevator.

Pressing the buttons, he watched the numbers go down to the ground floor. 3...2...1...Ground floor. It read, opening its doors. Chance slid in, hand rubbing his temple as the other pressed the floor level. 

100.

Watching the doors close, Chance's knees weakened as he gripped the railing. It felt like he was getting stabbed by a couple of knives already. They could hear the catchy elevator music they'd installed a while ago, but instead of singing along with it, he just groaned with pain.

He's drunken before, but he had never gotten carried away into becoming piss-drunk infront of Mafioso. 'Floor 100.' The elevator stated, slowly opening its doors. Chance dragged himself sluggishly, exiting the elevator.

There was only one room, a penthouse, created just for him at the highest point in the casino. In truth, he forgot to insert his key card into the elevator to go to this floor, but he assumed the facial recognition got him.

Maybe I should get rid of that... Chance thought, imagining some copycat donning the same look as him and entering his penthouse. He didn't know exactly why he had the facial recognition, but the construction workers did add it-so he never bothered tampering with it.

Feeling the sides of his pocket, he searched for his key card before finding it in his hands. Chance inserted the key card, the door clicking open before taking it back with him inside.

Of course, why would you leave your key card out in the open for somebody to take? Well, he's seen some people do it when he's checking up on the floors. Or...the janitor just tells him. 

Placing the card in the key card holder, the door locked itself. He expected his penthouse to be clean and tidy, but his expectations were not met when he hit a piece of rubbish with his foot.

Groaning in response, he glanced over to the living room to find a bunch of rubbish thrown onto the floor and the kitchen filled with messy dishes stacked up in the sink. I'll clean that up tomorrow... Chance decided, walking towards his room.

For a gambler, this was quite expected. He didn't know why they imagined a tidy house when all he focuses on is gambling all day non-stop. Chance gripped the door handle, pushing it forwards to be met with a messy room.

The gambler didn't care at this point, he wanted to rip his clothes off and change into something more comfortable. He wanted to sleep in the rest of tomorrow if he couldn't manage to get up.

Sliding his suit jacket off, he hung it on a hanger before removing the rest of his clothes-changing into his favourite red, silk pyjama's. He let out a sigh with relief, going into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face.

Taking his toothbrush, he added some toothpaste. That some turned into a lot before he noticed, grumbling with annoyance before feeling a slight nudge on his leg.

Peering down, he see's a large blob. with big ears-pressing themselves on their leg with warmth. Chance smiled, forgetting his minor incident. 'Hey, Spade. Miss me?' He asked, crouching down and patting them on the head softly.

They wondered how they got out of their cage, but he remembered how they learned to get out themselves. Finishing his business in the bathroom, he picked up Spade and placed them on the comforter.

Flopping themselves on the bed, Chance felt his eyes trying to keep him awake. He made a small glance at Spade, who was lying down beside him.

The lights were turned off, the room still left messy and Chance's eyes closed, drifting off to sleep in an instant. His body succumbing to sleep, as he rolled over to face Spade.

His breathing steady, while Spade just looked at him with their beady eyes. It was not until Chance's phone lit up, light colours projecting onto the ceiling.

It was a notification Chance had put there. 

11th of September, 'Itrapped coming back from France!' 

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𝚂𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚎 2

𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚜 : 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 (10/09/2025)

𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 : (𝙽/𝙰)

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 5000 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 (𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍)

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