The line went dead, Mary's laughter still echoing faintly in Ethan's ear. He slipped the phone into his pocket with a quiet finality, his expression unreadable.
To him, it had been nothing more than a call. To Selene, it had been an earthquake.
Her world shifted.
Selene prided herself on reading people, on knowing who mattered and who was pretending. In this city, faces blurred together, and most who smiled at her wanted something—money, favors, status. But this boy… no, this man—he called Mary as casually as if she were an old schoolmate.
Victor clapped Ethan on the back again, dragging him forward into the current of glittering gowns and tailored suits. His laughter rang loud and careless, drawing stares like a torch in the dark.
Selene followed, her sharp heels clicking softly against the marble floor, her eyes fixed on Ethan's back.
Finally, Victor waved a hand with the flourish of a man presenting a stage act. "Ethan, this beauty right here—" he gestured grandly toward Selene—"isn't just some random goddess walking around. This, my friend, is Selene Ward. The owner of this casino."
Ethan stopped mid-step, blinking once, then turning toward her. His expression shifted, not into awe or fear, but into calm surprise. His lips curved into a polite smile as he extended a hand.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Ward." His tone was warm, steady, without even a flicker of condescension.
Selene tilted her head, momentarily disarmed. She had been ready for the usual—thinly veiled sneers, false flattery, men who either mocked her for being a self-made woman or tried to charm their way into her good graces.
But Ethan's greeting… it was different.
There was no pity. No mockery. No calculation.
If anything, he looked almost uncomfortable—not because he thought she was beneath him, but because he didn't know how to carry himself in this world. He wasn't bowing or fawning. He was simply… kind.
Her lips curved slowly. "The pleasure is mine, Ethan."
For just a moment, something sparked between them. A silent understanding.
Victor, oblivious to the undercurrent, clapped his hands together. "Enough introductions! Let's get to the real fun. Time to turn that pocket change into an empire!"
Selene rolled her eyes faintly, but she followed as Victor led the way to the counter.
The casino's chip exchange counter glittered beneath its own private chandelier. Rows of trays filled with neatly stacked chips gleamed like treasure, guarded by sharp-eyed attendants in crisp uniforms.
Victor strode up first, slapping a black card onto the counter with theatrical flair. "Ten million," he declared.
The attendant's face didn't flicker—professionally trained, perfectly neutral. Chips were stacked, slid across, and placed into a velvet-lined tray without hesitation.
Selene watched Ethan out of the corner of her eye. His expression didn't change, but she noticed the smallest flicker in his jaw, the way his fingers twitched against his side. Ten million. As if it were nothing.
"Your turn," Victor said, stepping aside with his tray of chips and smirk firmly in place.
Ethan stepped forward. His hand dipped into his jacket pocket, retrieving the sleek bank card the system had so conveniently filled for him. The attendant bowed politely.
"Amount, sir?"
Ethan opened his mouth—only to pause. How much was too much? He remembered the mission prompt flashing in his mind: Use all your money to bet in a casino. He had 1.35 million in balance. To Victor, that was barely pocket change. But to Ethan, it was everything.
His silence stretched a moment too long.
Victor leaned against the counter with a grin. "Don't tell me you're hesitating already. Come on, Ethan, don't make me think you only called me here to watch."
Selene arched a brow, lips quirking. She could see the tension in Ethan's shoulders, but also the quiet storm brewing in his eyes.
Finally, Ethan slid the card across the counter. His voice was low, steady. "All of it."
The attendant blinked, momentarily surprised. "Sir, may I confirm the amount?"
"1.35 million," Ethan replied simply.
The numbers were not earth-shattering in this place, but they were far from small. Enough for the attendants to exchange polite glances, enough for nearby players to glance over curiously.
Selene's eyes sharpened. For someone Victor treated like an old friend, Ethan's wager was humble compared to the titans here—but the calm way he said it… that was intriguing.
As the chips were being stacked into trays, a short man in a gaudy gold suit stumbled forward, nearly tripping over his own feet. His face was red from too much champagne, his words slurring.
"Oi! All of it?" He jabbed a finger at Ethan, his voice carrying far too loudly. "First time I've ever seen a newbie come in and throw down his entire purse! You mad, boy? You think this is some street card game?"
Victor laughed so hard he nearly dropped his tray of chips. "Hah! Don't mind him, Ethan. That's Lester—professional drunkard of the casino. He's been here since last month's grand opening and hasn't left since."
Selene pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. "Lester, go sit down before I have you carried out again."
But Lester wasn't done. He stumbled closer, peering blearily at Ethan's face. Then, with sudden exaggerated solemnity, he raised his glass in a toast.
"To the brave fool," he declared. "May your pockets be emptied quickly, so you don't embarrass yourself in front of the pretty lady!"
Victor nearly doubled over in laughter. Ethan, however, only blinked once, then inclined his head.
"Thank you," he said mildly. "But I intend to keep my pockets full."
Selene bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. Lester gaped for a second, then burst out laughing so hard he spilled half his drink onto his shoes.
"You've got spirit, boy!" Lester wheezed, staggering off into the crowd.
Victor slapped Ethan on the back. "That's the spirit! Ignore the clowns. Tonight, we play serious games."
Ethan adjusted the tray of chips now in his hands. His eyes met Selene's briefly. She tilted her head, amusement glimmering in her gaze.
For the first time in a long while, Selene felt a flicker of curiosity stronger than her skepticism.
Who was Ethan Ivers, really?
The three of them moved deeper into the casino, the weight of the chips heavy in their hands, the promise of the night unfolding before them.
And above them, unseen, the system's faint glow lingered.
Mission: In Progress.