Casino Gambit and Veiled Auction
The odds of drawing a four of a kind were a mere 0.024%. I took my time savoring the scene—the murmurs rippling through the crowd, the dealers' wide-eyed shock and fumbling announcements, even the way the guy's fist trembled across the table from me.
'More fun than I expected.'
[Why stop there?]
'Wasn't here to gamble. One good hand's enough.'
Plus, I'd made a tidy pocketful of allowance money. I shook off my hands without a second thought and stood from the table. The guy opposite me was red-faced and huffing, but what could he do? The world of high stakes was ruthless like that. He'd bluffed big and lost—embarrassing, sure.
"Have fun, everyone. I'm out."
As I turned to leave, a woman hurried after me. Wondering what this was about, I preemptively shut it down, just in case.
"Won't lend you any, even if you ask."
"I wasn't gonna ask!"
"Then why keep following me? Let's both go our separate ways."
She stared at me with this incredibly complicated expression.
"...You're really a gambler, huh?"
"That's what you chased me down here for?"
This woman was one quirky character. She'd tried hitting up a total stranger for cash without batting an eye, and now she was playing detective, digging into my identity?
"Obviously a joke. First time at a casino, you know."
"Really?"
"Just got lucky with my cards and rode it out. Anyone would've gone all-in with four of a kind."
"Well, yeah, but..."
Or maybe she thought I'd pulled some sneaky trick to swap hands. Whatever. Didn't matter to me, and I had no reason to spill the truth to her.
As I wandered the casino floor, she trailed after me like one of my crew. I'd stop, she'd stop. I'd move, she'd follow. Turn around, and she'd whistle innocently, pretending not to notice.
What the hell was her deal?
"What's with you?"
"Huh? What's what?"
"Cut the act. Why are you following me?"
She shot back shamelessly. "Because I feel like it. It's not like you rented out the whole casino, Mr. Lupin?"
"...Good lord."
She operated on a whole different wavelength. How could anyone be this brazen? It was almost impressive.
No choice but to ignore her like she didn't exist. But right as I decided that, she sidled up cautiously.
"Not playing anymore? Where to?"
I parroted her words back perfectly. "Wherever I feel like. It's not like you rented out the casino."
"......"
She was stunned speechless—much better. I kept walking, muttering to myself.
"Might as well try a few different games since I'm here."
"Want me to show you around?"
"Politely decline."
"No need to be shy."
She was relentless. Bluntly put, she wasn't the type who'd get much traction despite her looks.
"Not much to do here besides games, though. Hotel? Restaurant?"
I ignored her and headed for my real destination.
"Ahh, got it! You're going to the auction house."
Spot on. I was making for the auction hall tucked in one corner of the casino. Though my target wouldn't be up for bid yet—it hadn't hit the roster. Tonight was pure reconnaissance. Scoping the place out, planning tricks and escape routes.
"I've got a killer eye for valuables, you know. If you want, I could tag along to the auction and help out. Tempting, right?"
"Not even a little."
"Aw, come on. You know you want to."
How to shake this shameless tagalong? Recon was the goal tonight, so a hanger-on wouldn't ruin much. But that didn't make her constant nagging any less annoying. I'd planned to browse in peace, and now I had a leech.
Just ignore her. She'd tire out eventually. No clue why she was so fixated on me, anyway.
I strolled slowly toward the auction hall, memorizing the casino paths. Even casual details I could pass a hundred times—I noted them all, sketching a rough mental blueprint. Use this spot like so, avoid that one if possible.
Deep in thought, her chatter faded into the background.
The auction hall was dimmer than the casino proper, lit in sophisticated wine-red tones rather than flashy gold. It split into three small rooms for simultaneous auctions. Staff stood guard at each entrance for security.
As we approached, a female attendant bowed politely.
"Apologies, but you can't join mid-auction. Please check the schedule ahead and come for the next one."
No mid-session entries. Filed that away, then asked casually, "What about leaving during? Possible?"
"You can leave, but no re-entry."
"Got it. Thanks."
I checked the posted schedule as she'd suggested. Each room had different lots. Some were invite-only reveals, visible only once bidding started. The highlight items at the end? All shrouded in secrecy.
As I studied it intently, she piped up again.
"Curious about the secret lots? I could fill you in."
"You know them, even if they're secret?"
"Secret in name only—they drop hints to build buzz. Gets people talking and interested."
Simple, effective marketing. Humans were suckers for "secrets only I know."
"Usually, casino plants at the tables slip the info if you stick around long enough."
"You've been here more than once or twice."
She grinned sheepishly. "Stress relief. Blow off work steam by burning cash. If you win big, it's profit and therapy—perfect."
"Losing doesn't just pile on more stress?"
"It's the thrill of the bet itself. Adrenaline rush, total immersion—forget everything else."
Explaining gambling addiction, huh? Made a certain sense, but I couldn't relate.
Anyway, my target wasn't on today's slate. Could be a secret lot, but intel said it dropped in two days. The schedule only covered today—no multi-day view.
"Any info on other days' lots?"
"Not usually, unless it's a big-ticket item. Looking for something specific?"
"Just curious."
Was my target a "big ticket"? Obviously. Being a phantom thief's mark proved its worth. And with copycats circling? Even more so.
But I didn't ask her outright. No sense tipping my hand—she might suspect me if it vanished later. If she volunteered, great. If not, no sweat. Stealing it blind wasn't hard anyway.
"Auction starts in five minutes."
"Gonna join?"
I nodded. Needed to peek inside.
At the door, the staffer pointed to paper and pen. "Please sign the roster."
Thorough, if pointless—fake names sailed right through. I scrawled with flair:
Arsene Lupin.
Always a stylish name.
She jotted below: Joan Watson.
Rang a bell. Where from? Racked my brain, but nothing. Minor original novel extra? Or just Earth déjà vu? Whatever—I memorized it and stepped in.
The modest room held maybe a dozen seats, spaced for privacy. Max twenty, tops. I took a corner spot; Watson plopped right beside me. Clingy.
This secret lot auction had a thrill to it—what would appear?
[Could be some massive gem.]
'Jackpot.'
If it played out that way, I'd cheer internally. Two gems in one spot? Epic.
Soon, participants trickled in. The host took the small stage.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome. Let's dive right in."
Efficient—nice. He unveiled the veiled secret lot. I'd been curious, but what emerged left me stunned.
'That's definitely...'