Chapter 31
Lucky Daphne
“Not bad, huh?”
The inside of the unnamed hotel next to the harbor was far grander than its modest exterior suggested.
Walking through the towering iron gate, Daphne found herself in a square-shaped structure with guest rooms facing each other. In the center of the building, leafy plants stretched all the way up to the third floor, making it feel like she had stepped into another country.
“Green everywhere. How annoying.”
Daphne fanned herself briefly, the interior somehow feeling even more humid than the outside.
She unfolded the crumpled piece of paper again. Not only had she stooped to picking up something that looked like a payday loan flyer, but she had also come all the way here in person.
“I just hope this isn’t some organ-trafficking scheme.”
Without thinking, she rubbed her abdomen lightly.
Looking around like someone visiting for the first time, she caught the attention of a young bellboy with a fresh-faced look. He approached her and kindly gave her directions. She attempted to tip him, but he politely declined and disappeared.
When Daphne finally arrived at the underground gambling hall, it was refreshingly cool and incredibly loud.
The space was filled with shabby pool tables, thick cigarette smoke, and the sharp smell of alcohol. Roulette wheels spun in various corners, their cheap mechanical sounds adding to the chaotic atmosphere.
True to the hotel’s reputation for catering to travelers, the crowd was a kaleidoscope of hair colors. Among them were several blond men who caught Daphne’s eye, along with silver, red, and deep emerald-haired individuals.
“Fascinating.”
This was nothing like the refined, etiquette-laden casinos of the nobility. Daphne’s eyes widened in intrigue.
She quickly became interested—and confident that she could get what she wanted.
“This way for the game offering the boarding pass!”
“Coming through~”
Daphne shook her wallet, which was packed with gold coins. The jingling sound was crisp and clear.
****
The young bellboy, Colin, personally escorted Daphne to the gambling hall before dashing up the stairs to the fourth floor in one swift motion.
— Red hair, golden eyes.
— Yes.
— I don’t need any other papers. If you see an article about someone with that appearance or the name ‘Daphne Beaucater,’ will you sell it to me?
That was the request of the “Sir” staying in the suite. The people who came to this hotel often had unclear identities—minor criminals, illegal immigrants, or nobles and royals tired of high society. Thus, everyone, regardless of gender, was simply addressed as “Sir.”
Colin caught his breath and pressed the bell for a long ring.
Is he asleep?
Thud. Thud-thud!
The sound of a glass bell chimed faintly from inside. It signaled that the occupant would be out shortly. Colin placed a hand over his chest to steady his pounding heart.
The door opened, and the man who appeared was as dazzling as ever. The only difference was that his once brilliant golden hair had dimmed, as if the light had gone out of it.
“Colin, what’s going on?”
He always spoke respectfully to Colin. He was the kind of man who, after a trip to the gambling hall, would pour all his winnings into Colin’s tray—a truly remarkable gentleman.
“A young lady with ruby-red hair and golden eyes—Lady Beaucater, I believe—has arrived.”
“Impossible.”
The single word carried a heavy weight.
Colin clamped his mouth shut. The faint smile that usually lingered on the man’s face had vanished entirely. Colin froze, convinced he had made a mistake and dared not say another word.
“…Where is she? Did she come here for me?”
“Oh, um, well… she’s in the gambling hall now.”
Celestian paused. Then he raised a hand to his lips and slowly began to laugh. Colin, feeling awkward, chuckled along.
The “Sir” laughed for a long time, his laughter radiant. Even after the sound faded, a trace of delight lingered on his face.
“See you later.”
With that, the wooden door closed firmly.
****
The proof? In this life, she was born the daughter of a magnate. Despite numerous injuries, she had always recovered, her plans never failed, and her path thus far had been smooth and paved with success.
There were no chip exchanges here. Instead, one could bet everything they carried—money, jewelry, and even accessories.
Even if royal knights and soldiers guarded the path from third-class to first-class, Daphne had spent years studying the design of Page-René and knew all the hidden routes.
“All I need is a ticket.”
The game was Indian Poker. The rules were simpler than most gambling games. Betting all of her monthly luck, Daphne flipped the two cards in front of her with flair.
“Oh, crap.”
She stared blankly at her cards: three of hearts and eight of spades—a complete dud with no matching numbers or suits.
“This lady is out of luck again. Guess her luck’s completely run out.”
Should I kill him?
The man, oblivious to Daphne’s chilling glare, proudly flipped his cards, saying, “Mark!” Next to him, a handsome dirty-blond man revealed his cards with a boisterous laugh.
“Pair.”
He swept the pot, including two boarding tickets, into his gloved hands. Daphne could only watch in dismay as her chances literally slipped away.
For the first—no, second—time in her life, Daphne wanted to bury a blond man six feet under.
“Oh no, this isn’t good…”
She had already lost half her stake.
The highlight of the hotel business was the revenue from casinos, but Daphne had never truly grasped its intricacies. With her fortune, she never needed to risk everything on a single bet—her wealth could last even beyond her death.
—If you keep this up, you’ll regret it someday!
Trying to tease Psyche, who had warned her with those words, Daphne had once sat down at a blackjack table. She won twice by sheer luck, and the sight of the quickly growing chips sent her into a frenzy. By the third game, she lost it all—three entire townhouses gone in one night.
Thankfully, she wasn’t completely ignorant of the rules today. Unfortunately, today’s luck was rotten. To make matters worse, her throbbing head only added to her frustration.
“Do you want to board that badly?”
The dirty blond asked.
“Are you planning to board?” Daphne asked back, her voice tinged with anxiety.
“Sir Chadwick, you know betting more makes it more fun,” the dealer chimed in with a friendly smile.
Sir Chadwick?
Daphne scrutinized the man’s smug face. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but she had never met him. Maybe a distant royal relative? She wouldn’t know; they had no direct connection.
“I’d rather not. I get terrible seasickness. Besides, third-class? A filthy place for commoners—I wouldn’t dream of rubbing shoulders there. And you, miss?”
“I need to board. That’s why I’m here. My friend’s wedding is on that ship.”
By “friend,” Daphne meant Psyche.
“The wedding on that ship belongs to that Rodriguez brat, doesn’t it?”
The dealer, gathering cards, muttered gruffly.
“Rodriguez brat…?”
It was the first time Daphne had heard someone else insult her cousin. Her curiosity made her eyes widen. She brushed her stinging hair again, as if the comment had struck a nerve.
“Yeah, Romeo Rodriguez. What does a kid fresh from his coming-of-age ceremony know about being a regent?”
“That was four years ago.”
“They say he’s sharp enough to defend the country after his feats in Libian. But what if he falls ill?”
“He’s not dying anytime soon.”
Daphne glanced at the dealer’s hands shuffling the cards with practiced elegance. She almost felt the urge to defend Romeo.
“Anyone here who didn’t fight in that war? Damn it, my gunshot wound still aches during the rainy season.”
Unintentionally, Daphne raised her arm and looked at her side.
“Will mine hurt during the rainy season, too?”
“If my father had been king, I’d be regent by now. Damn that noble golden bloodline!”
“That brat must be about the same age as this lady, right?”
All eyes turned to Daphne, who simply smiled and shrugged.
“A brat who doesn’t know a thing about the world playing at love and getting married. How long has it been since the rebellion was crushed, and now he’s pulling all the capital’s forces away for this?”
“Fair point.”
Daphne nodded quietly in agreement.
“If only Theriosa had succeeded in that rebellion. Someone like him, who’s crawled through the dirt, would probably understand us commoners better.”
“That’s enough. Look at this lady’s eye color. Reminds me of that viper Rose Green. What if she’s related to her?”
Snapped back to reality by the mention of her lineage, Daphne blinked. Rose Green, the former queen, was indeed her aunt. The man’s words were so accurate it was unnerving.
“Lady, are those real eyes?”
Chadwick, perhaps thinking Daphne was being excluded from the “men’s conversation,” addressed her directly.
“These? Fake. Want to poke them?”
Daphne smirked, raising only the left corner of her lips. Her joke made the men laugh, breaking the tense atmosphere.
“Then let me poke. Look over here.”
Chadwick reached toward her. Daphne’s expression soured as if she’d stepped in manure. The dealer cleared his throat loudly, trying to restore order.
“Let’s get back to the game. Check your cards. Raise or fold?”
Daphne pretended to think as she looked at her cards.
“Cards are trash, no money left.”
She had nothing left to bet. Lately, she felt she was finding herself in these predicaments more often. The feeling of being broke was far from pleasant.
“Fold.”
The blond man beside her snickered as he commented, “Why not bet your clothes? You’re practically not wearing any anyway.”
The dealer’s expression hardened visibly. He seemed to glance somewhere, but Daphne couldn’t follow his gaze.
“Oh, this bastard just crossed the line.”
She had humored their jokes, but now they were trampling all over her boundaries. Without a word, Daphne let a sly smile creep onto her lips and tapped the table twice.
“Need a loan?”
“Don’t talk to me~”
Daphne replied softly, intending to politely refuse. Instead, her genuine irritation slipped out.
“The ticket you want is right here.”
Chadwick tapped the pocket of his jacket twice. Daphne studied his face again.
From a glance, he was handsome. Upon closer inspection, however, his face exuded the typical arrogance of nobles.
“If you want, you can touch it.”
Chadwick jutted out his chest, which looked pitifully unimpressive.
“Should I punch him and go to jail…?”
Since it seemed impossible to board Page-René otherwise, Daphne started hatching a plan.
Hit him with the chair, grab the ticket, and make a run for the ship.
Even if Chadwick turned out to be high nobility or a distant royal, she was the king’s niece, cousin to the crown prince, and best friend of the future crown princess. On top of that, she was Amber Green’s daughter—a woman at the pinnacle of wealth and power.
“I can deal with the fallout later.”
Daphne nodded slightly. It all made sense. Judging by the atmosphere, no one seemed likely to stop her if she hit him.
As she prepared to execute her plan, gripping the curved part of the chair tightly, someone called out.
“Lady.”
“Huh? Uh, yes?”
Caught off guard, Daphne straightened her posture and clasped her hands behind her back. It was the young bellboy who had guided her earlier.
“The gentleman over there has been staring at you. Do you happen to know him?”
Daphne turned slowly, following the bellboy’s gesture. A group of black-haired men, seven or eight in number, were noisily playing poker.
No one stood out in particular.
“……”
Then her gaze met the one that had been fixed on her.
Green eyes.
Daphne instinctively looked down and brought a hand to her lips, shaking her head. The bellboy waited expectantly for her answer.
“No, I don’t know him. Could you ask him to stop? It’s incredibly distracting.”
She turned back and sat down, coolly brushing it off. The bellboy, puzzled, bowed and left. Daphne tried to calm her racing heart.
“Crazy bastard.”
Even from that brief glance, she couldn’t help but note how handsome he looked. Chadwick, overhearing her muttered curse, tilted his head in confusion.
To resist the urge to look back at him again, Daphne steeled herself.
“If you look back, you’ve lost, Daphne Beaucater.”
Just then, a new set of cards was dealt before her.
