A Gamble Called Marriage - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

A long cigarette still smoldered, resting on the glass ashtray of the slot machine. The overpowering scent of roses tried to mask the bitter smell, but what was more striking was the man’s appearance.

 

His downward-slanted eyes gave off the impression of half-asleep weariness and lethargy. His triple gaze mixed with boredom and apathy, as if his dull, gray eyes were as cold as the sky full of ash. The lower lashes were thick, giving his eyes a bluish tint, creating a distinct boundary between them and the rest of his face. The sunken eye sockets cast heavy shadows, making his face appear fragile. His lips were large, contrasting sharply with his pale skin. His black hair was tousled and unruly, further accentuating his pale complexion.

 

He was beautiful in a way that made others unable to look away, as if he had meticulously built this fragile, teetering beauty.

 

“Still…”

 

The man was someone who shamelessly attached the label “homo tragedy” to others’ misfortunes. Maël recognized this type well—low-class rich brats who roamed Monaco like flies, their wealth transforming boredom into monotony. Their lives were so easy they became unbearable, and they used their money to mock others.

 

“So, it’s a bit much compared to what you showed.”

 

Maël spoke dryly, not interested in staging the drama these types usually craved.

 

The man didn’t care and placed the fifty-thousand-euro slip onto the slot machine.

 

“Setting the amount is the giver’s choice.”

 

He sat up straighter, revealing his tall frame. His gray, cold eyes blatantly scanned Maël’s face.

 

“Who exactly are you?”

 

He wasn’t a journalist. No journalist with such audacity would casually throw around that kind of money as “viewing fees.”

 

“Still…”

 

Maël reviewed their conversation so far.

 

The messy love affair of Clément, who was supposedly in his first relationship, and Charles, who had pushed him into secrecy about it. Their sister’s problematic engagement looming. Any of these topics spilling over to outsiders would only cause trouble.

 

“How about this? I’ll take my face as the viewing fee.”

 

Before Maël could hesitate, the man’s languid suggestion cut in. Without giving Maël a chance to react, he prodded the paper with his index finger.

 

“Then, are you thinking of breaking up?”

 

His blunt, abrupt question was laced with a hollow laugh. People who deemed their curiosity more important than basic courtesy were exhausting to deal with.

 

Most of all, his gaze.

 

Staring at Maël with no caution or courtesy, it seemed as though he didn’t care at all. His relentless, probing stare made Maël already weary.

 

The humiliation Maël had experienced in the smoking room had already reached its limit, and all he wanted now was to escape.

 

Clack.

 

So, Maël snatched the six-digit slip. The overwhelming amount fluttered easily in his hands.

 

“Thank you for the viewing fee.”

 

With that, Maël folded the slip in half and pushed it back in the opposite direction.

 

“I’ll give you something too. For keeping quiet about what happened in this room.”

 

With that, Maël left. The man continued to stare at the crumpled paper in front of the noisy machine.

 

—

 

“Brother.”

 

After vomiting into the toilet, Maël came out to find his sister, Manon, waiting outside.

 

“Something happened with Charles, didn’t it? You looked upset. I probably shouldn’t have suggested the surprise dinner.”

 

Thirty minutes earlier, Manon had caught Maël by the entrance of the casino after he had finished signing papers. She mentioned Charles heading toward the smoking room and gave a subtle nudge in that direction.

 

Nothing serious, Maël shook his head.

 

“Nothing much. But why are you still here? You should rest if you’ve eaten.”

 

“We’re planning to leave with Philippe, but the Crown Prince showed up. He wouldn’t stop demanding we bring him in too.”

 

The mention made Maël’s expression stiffen. Manon gently tugged at the bottom of his jacket and shifted her feet.

 

“Just for a little while. Really, just a little while. Everyone knows you’re busy, so it’s fine.”

 

The situation was difficult for both of them, but Maël gave a forced smile.

 

“Where are they?”

 

“In the private hall at the back.”

 

Monaco’s Monte Carlo Casino had six halls in total. Four open halls were accessible to anyone who paid the entrance fee, while the other two private halls were reserved for members only.

 

Among them, the Crown Prince Felix preferred the innermost hall.

 

It was no secret that on his days off, he gathered his entourage, including his brother Prince Philippe, to gamble in that very private hall.

 

“Manon Matié.”

 

Manon, who had become a public figure as the fiancée of Prince Philippe, could gain access to the private hall simply by showing her face.

 

Inside, the windowless, tightly sealed hall was filled with the glow of dazzling chandeliers and Rococo-style paintings on the high walls. Tobacco smoke lingered heavily in the air. The Crown Prince and his entourage surrounded the roulette tables, holding colorful glasses of alcohol and chatting away.

 

“Not bad. He seemed like an interesting friend.”

 

“Really? The guy who supposedly bought that eyesore of a hotel chain?”

 

“Yeah. He was doing real estate business in Eastern Europe. But it’s not just about the money—watch out, he’s a damn good poker player too. Got wiped out last time playing here.”

 

As the man with the red hair muttered complaints, he suddenly stood up and shouted as soon as he saw Maël.

 

“Maël! Finally here. The bet is limited to one person per number. Each player can bet on only one space.”

 

Prince Felix. The one who had unilaterally changed the rules of the gambling table revealed his smile.

 

“Come on, Maël. Quickly, pick a number.”

 

“Isn’t gambling illegal for people from the Principality here?”

 

“Manon, your brother always says stuff like that. How boring.”

 

They chuckled, thinking they were above the law. Forced to laugh in agreement, Maël struggled against the discomfort of standing near the ex-lover who now stood beside Prince Felix as his closest aide.

 

When he didn’t say a word, Prince Philippe, who would become Manon’s husband, furrowed his brow.

 

“Still… Maël, tell me.”

 

He spoke slowly due to a respiratory condition that required him to take frequent breaths. In the meantime, Maël barely managed to pull his expression together.

 

“I’m just occasionally lucky. Manon’s exaggeration is still hard to believe.”

 

With a weary sigh, Prince Felix let out a laugh.

 

“What are you saying? You’re great at gambling, Maël, not just roulette.”

 

“It’s all just coincidence.”

 

“Drop the humility. If you win this time, I’ll set you up with someone decent. A racing driver, right? He’s so desperate for sponsorship that he’s losing his mind. Everything’s ready—front, back, you name it.”

 

The suggestion of matchmaking, something Maël had no interest in, didn’t leave time for shock. Prince Philippe, however, spoke first.

 

“You’re… disgusting.”

 

“Your wedding guests might not even know Maël is gay. If you hit on someone and make a fool of yourself, how’s that going to look? It’s better to have someone with you.”

 

Felix’s blatant remark caused Manon’s lips to tighten. Regardless, the only thing Maël could do to break the sour atmosphere was speak.

 

“Seven. For some reason, I feel it.”

 

Once Maël spoke the number, Prince Philippe placed all his chips on red 7 on the roulette table.

 

The others surrounding him slowly pushed their chips into the grid as well.

 

1st 12, 1-18, ODD, 2 to 1 on the left, betting on the corner grid of the number 7. Even though the odds may vary, everyone seemed to believe the ball would land on 7 on the roulette wheel.

 

“What’s this? Everyone’s so boring.”

 

Felix frowned as the situation played out that way.

 

“This is getting dull. Maël, do you want to try betting separately? Somewhere else, not on 7.”

 

“I don’t have any chips.”

 

That seemed like a reasonable refusal. But before Maël could move away, a hand stretched out from behind him.

 

“Bet mine instead.”

 

Even without turning around, Maël could guess who it was.

 

“I don’t have any chips either.”

 

With a deep voice that scratched at his senses, the rich scent of roses, and the folded piece of paper thrown onto the betting table…

 

1st 12: Bet on numbers between 1-12

1-18: Bet on numbers between 1-18

ODD: Bet on odd numbers

2 to 1: Bet on the left row of numbers

Corner grid: Bet including the number 7 and its surrounding squares