Lady Fortuna was intrigued. No, she was fascinated. The moment she'd noticed him, she'd already ordered her men to dig up everything on this stranger.
He had walked into her casino, a place where the odds were meticulously stacked in her favor, and started clearing house like he owned the place, an unstoppable force of fortune that seemed to bend any game to his will.
At first, her pit bosses thought he was cheating, and they scoured the surveillance footage, checked the cards for microscopic markers, and even had a Nen user stand close by to feel for any subtle manipulation of aura.
They were experts at their trade, able to spot the faintest flicker of deceit, the slightest tell, the smallest whisper of an ability at work. But after multiple failed attempts to catch him, they'd thrown in the towel, shaking their heads in utter disbelief. They had exhausted their repertoire of countermeasures and come up empty.
She herself had watched carefully from her private suite, the screens showing his every move from multiple angles. She expected to see a Nen ability at work, a subtle manipulation of the odds, a flicker of aura on the dice or the cards. But there was nothing. No telltale aura, no subtle manipulation.
He simply… won.
And with such an infuriating, effortless grace. She had seen countless Nen users in her life, men and women who could manipulate chance or luck to their favor, but they all left a trace, a tell, a faint ripple.
This man, however, seemed to operate outside of the established rules, if he really was using nen, then she couldnt see it at all, just a natural phenomenon of fortune that defied all logic. He was a puzzle she was desperate to solve, a magnificent enigma in the heart of her meticulously controlled world.
Could it really just be luck?
That was the question that drew her in. She was a woman who dealt in the currency of chance, but she knew that true, pure luck was a myth.
It was a word people used to describe a force they couldn't understand, a power beyond their control.
For Lady Fortuna, luck was a variable to be managed, a current to be navigated with skill and foresight, a commodity to be bought and sold. But this man was the living embodiment of that force, and she found herself compelled to get closer, to understand the source of his power.
She had to know if he was a new species of player, a true anomaly, or just an exceptionally talented fraud. Now, here she was, in person, practically pressed against him, her perfume a rich floral that had broken more men than bullets.
It was her signature move, a lethal combination of proximity and scent designed to disarm and captivate. She'd seen it work countless times, the way a man's defenses would crumble, his eyes glazing over with a mixture of desire and compliance.
And this one? This one leaned away, as if her proximity were an unpleasant heat. He was a puzzle she was not just desperate to solve, but now determined to conquer.
The game at the table continued, but it was a pantomime now. The other players were stiff, their hands trembling, their nerves raw under her presence.
The air was thick with the weight of her authority, a pressure that made the dealer's voice crack and the other players' faces pale. They knew their place, their deference a mixture of fear and fawning respect in their eyes, everyone except him. He was calm, unbothered. It was infuriating.
She was Lady Fortuna. The Rose. Beautiful. Desired. Envied. Feared. She was a legend in Yorknew City's underworld, a woman who had built her empire on her razor-sharp wit, her lethal charm, and a ruthlessness that belied her stunning beauty.
She was everything men, and even some women, craved. And he was ignoring her, treating her like an inconvenience, a nuisance. He only spoke when spoken to, and he kept his answers short, clipped, as if every word was a precious resource he was unwilling to waste on her.
Her left eye twitched when he once again replied shortly, giving only his name when she asked. It was like he wanted nothing to do with her, which was not true. The want for her attention, whether for money, power, or simple lust, was varied and intense. It was a currency she was accustomed to having in abundance. Who did he think he was?
She scooted closer, her thigh brushing his, wrapping a delicate hand around his forearm. She let her fingers trail up, just for a moment, to feel the tense, coiled muscles beneath his sleeve. He barely acknowledged it, his golden eyes still on his cards. "So tell me about yourself, Kenji," she purred, her voice a low, melodic invitation that promised secrets and pleasures.
"There's not much to tell," he replied with a shrug, his arm slipping out of her grasp with a subtle but firm motion, a dismissal so casual it was almost an art form.
The rejection was subtle but firm, and it annoyed her more than an outright insult would have. An insult, at least, was a direct acknowledgment of her presence. This was just... dismissal. "Surely that can't be true," she pressed, her voice lilting. "You look new to Yorknew. Where are you from?"
"A small island off Whale Island," he said casually, discarding a card. "You've probably never heard of it."
She narrowed her eyes, a flicker of irritation breaking through her mask before smoothing it back into a sultry smile. The name "Whale Island" meant nothing to her, but his dismissive tone was another subtle jab, another sign that he was not playing by her rules.
"Then what brings you to Yorknew City?" she asked, her voice dropping to a near whisper, her gaze intense. She would get her answers from this damn infuriating man.
Kenji finally looked at her then, a polite smile tugging at his lips. "Well, I heard of the casinos here. Decided to test my luck." His eyes hardened, his next words deliberate, a warning shot fired with no fanfare. "Told the wife and kids I'd be away for a while."
He put weight on the word "wife," and when he drew his arm back again, she let it go this time. The message was clear. He was not interested and had put up his walls against her, a boundary she was not to cross.
For most men, claiming marriage meant nothing. A wife was an obstacle. But this man said it differently. He meant it. He was not going to follow her just because she had battered her eyelash a little.
Lady Fortuna's lips twitched down. So that was how he wanted to play it. She studied him anew, her gaze sweeping him. Mid-twenties, maybe. Handsome, striking even. Brown hair, golden eyes, a neatly trimmed beard. Rugged. Dangerous. Sexy. His physique was firm, she'd felt it herself. He radiated an aura of rough-edged confidence that screamed temptation.
He didn't look like the sort to settle down, and yet he claimed a wife and children. Curious.
Well, it didn't matter. She had decided that she wanted him. And Lady Fortuna always got what she wanted.
She was not going to give up something that had caught her eye just because it belong to someone else thats not who she was. She would rip him from his wife if she had to and make him hers.
Kenji, on the other hand, sighed inwardly. He had made it as clear as possible, but she was relentless. The only time she had even paused was when he mentioned his wife, and even then, it was only for a moment before she pressed harder.
He had seen similar women in his past life, not just women, in fact, men and women who were so used to getting what they wanted that they saw every "no" as a challenge, a momentary delay before the inevitable "yes."
But this was a level of persistent, unyielding desire that went beyond simple lust or infatuation. It was exhausting.
So much for game night. Guess this was the end of it for the night.
He stood, flashing a polite smile. "It's been fun, but I really must go. Hopefully, we meet again."
The downward twitch of her lips told him she knew perfectly well he hadn't meant it.
Kenji collected his winnings and walked out. He didn't make it more than a block before his senses prickled.
Rats. More than one. Tailing him.
He sighed, then smiled faintly. He'd wanted to relax today. But it seemed some people just couldn't let him.
Calum followed at a careful distance. Lady Fortuna had ordered him to bring the man to her, but every instinct screamed this was a mistake. Years in the underworld had honed those instincts sharp, and right now they were shrieking.
The man, Kenji, was a threat, and Calum's mind couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking into a trap. He wanted to just abandon the mission, to walk away and never look back, but he knew better.
Lady Fortuna always found those who disappointed her. And there were worse things than death. He shuddered, remembering the last man who had failed her. She hadn't killed him. Instead, she had broken him in ways that you could never imagine, she had broken his body and will with her Nen ability, a slow symphony of agony that had left nothing of the man after she was done with him.
She had left him alive, a screaming, twisted wreck, a living testament to her cruelty and the price of failure. The man was still alive, a constant, living testament to her cruelty and the price of failure.
They trailed Kenji down side streets, their steps silent, until he turned into a narrow alley. "Good," Calum muttered. "Easier to grab when no one's watching."
But when he and his men rounded the corner—
Empty.
Calum had just enough time to blink before blood sprayed his face, warm and viscous. He heard the sickening thump as Lucas's head hit the ground. He stared, frozen in place, a macabre painting of red against the grimy alley wall. A primal terror, cold and absolute, seized his throat. The world seemed to tilt.
He spun, gun half-raised, when searing pain jolted his arms. A high-pitched, desperate scream tore from his throat. His forearms hit the ground, stumps spurting blood. He collapsed to his knees, clutching at the raw, burning pain, crying out in disbelief and agony. His mind, still processing the sight of his headless friend, couldn't comprehend the loss of his own limbs. The pain was too intense, too immediate.
His men barely had time to shout before they were shredded. A blur of movement moved among them, steel and shadow, painting the walls crimson. Flesh parted. Bones snapped. Screams were cut short, replaced by the sickening wet sound of bodies hitting the ground. It was an impossibly fast, impossibly brutal display of combat. There was no hesitation, no wasted motion, just a relentless, devastating dance of death.
It was over in seconds.
Calum trembled, clutching his ruined arms, eyes wide with horror as the figure walked toward him. A monster cloaked in calm. Each step echoed like a death knell in the sudden silence. He could see him clearly now. Kenji. The man from the casino, so unassuming, he could see his face, that smiling face back in the casino no longer there, his face was blank, eyes cold, and calum wanted to run and scream fro help, he wanted to beg, but nothing was coming out.
The monster just kept walking towards him.
He tried to speak, to beg, to scream, but only a gurgling sob escaped his lips. The fear was so immense it had stolen his voice, his will to live. He could only stare at the golden eyes, devoid of any pity, as the end of his life approached.
The blade rose and then came down.
Darkness claimed him.
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