The night city of Macao pulsed with color—neon veins running through concrete flesh. The air was alive with sound: the hum of cars, the echo of laughter, the metallic rhythm of slot machines somewhere beyond the next street.
Novaeus walked silently along the pavement, his polished shoes clicking in rhythm to the unseen music of the city. His reflection followed him in the glass of darkened shop windows—tall, poised, composed. Each step carried him deeper into the world above, where civilization draped itself in light to hide its shadows. He moved without destination, letting the night air and wind carry him wherever they pleased, his violet eyes quietly absorbing every flicker of this strange new civilization.
He wandered aimlessly, marveling at the skyline that loomed like an intricate illusion of progress. Streetlamps glowed amber; billboards spoke in color. People laughed, argued, and negotiated beneath the halo of synthetic light. Vendors called out their last offers of the night, and the smell of roasted chestnuts mingled with the tang of engine fumes.
And then, as though guided by invisible strings, Novaeus stumbled into a street washed in crimson and gold—a district that thrived on indulgence.
A red-light district.
The air here felt thicker, warmer. Perfume clashed with the scent of frying oil and cigarette smoke. Music leaked from doorways; laughter spilled from the lips of painted women who leaned lazily against poles and doorframes. The street stretched long and alive, every inch crowded with temptation: food stalls, cloth merchants, blinking tech shops, girls who smiled for a price, and casinos that glittered like traps waiting for prey.
In the dark alleyways between these lights, other businesses thrived—the kind that never saw the law. Drugs were just the surface; underneath lay trades darker and deeper, all operating in silence.
Novaeus stopped at the edge of it all, observing. His gaze swept across the street like a scanner parsing data.
"Hmm," he murmured. "Looks like a place of entertainment."
"Correct, my Lord," EIDEN replied through the faint whisper of the glasses' earpiece. "This is a gambling district. The establishment before you is called a casino—a house designed for risk and reward. Their games are primitive, but profitable. Many here win fortunes. Many more lose them."
Novaeus's lips curved faintly. "Primitive or not, it is an avenue of power. Money moves here, and where money moves, so does influence. We could use this as a stepping stone."
"Yes, my Lord. However, I must caution—these houses are often watched. Success attracts attention, and attention breeds risk."
"That is the idea," Novaeus said with quiet amusement. "We need justification for our future wealth. Let's earn it here. What game do you suggest?"
"There are digital roulettes on the left wing," EIDEN replied. "I can interface with their system. If you can get close enough, I will ensure you win the jackpot without suspicion."
Novaeus's eyes glinted. "Then let's play."
He entered the casino, its doors parting with a mechanical hiss. The inside was a riot of light and sound—spinning wheels, flashing screens, and laughter sharpened by greed. The air smelled of perfume, alcohol, and faint ozone from overworked electronics. Dealers in crisp suits greeted patrons with masks of politeness that didn't quite reach their eyes.
He approached the counter, where a young teller greeted him with a rehearsed smile. Novaeus handed over his card and purchased a seat at one of the roulette terminals.
The machine greeted him in sterile blue light.
"So, EIDEN," he murmured under his breath. "How do I play this… contraption?"
"Simple, my Lord," EIDEN replied smoothly. "Insert the card you received into the slot on the right. Your balance will appear. Then, press the start button. I will handle the rest. Your glasses will guide your hand."
Novaeus did as instructed, sliding the card into place. The display lit up, digits dancing. He pressed the start button.
The wheel spun. Numbers flashed. Coins clinked.
And with each round, his balance began to climb.
Around him, players glanced discreetly, whispering. A man winning too often always draws eyes. A few even shifted tables to watch him closer. The hum of the casino began to bend toward him, attention thickening like static.
"My Lord," EIDEN said quietly. "You're being monitored. Several staff members are observing you now. The security cameras have zoomed in."
Novaeus didn't even blink. "I know," he said softly. "Then let's finish this with style. Let's take the jackpot."
"Understood."
With a subtle flicker in the glasses' display, the system bent. The next spin whirled faster, slower, then stopped. Lights blazed. Bells screamed. The roulette machine burst to life in a storm of digital confetti.
JACKPOT — 36,000,000 MOP
The crowd erupted around him—gasps, cheers, disbelief. Even the casino floor manager pushed through the gathering throng, face pale and sweating, to see who had broken their odds.
He found Novaeus sitting calmly, hands folded, violet eyes reflecting the pulsing lights.
"Sir!" the manager stammered, forcing a smile that tried to hide panic. "Congratulations! You've—ah—you've hit the grand jackpot! If you'd please come with me, we'll handle your payout in our VIP lounge."
Novaeus stood, buttoned his coat, and followed without a word.
The lounge was quieter, wrapped in velvet and smoke. A bottle of champagne had already been placed on the table.
"Thank you for your patience, sir," said the manager, still nervous. "Would you prefer your winnings in cash or check?"
"Give me ten million in cash," Novaeus said. "The rest in a check. Take one million for yourself and another to be divided among your staff. Consider it… gratitude for your hospitality."
The manager blinked, stunned, before breaking into a grin. "Th-thank you, sir! That's incredibly generous of you. If you don't mind, may I offer you a VIP membership card? It grants access to our exclusive floors—and discounts in our four-star hotel next door."
"That would be appreciated."
As the manager prepared the paperwork, he hesitated before speaking again. "You seem… new to the city, sir. Forgive my curiosity, but I don't believe I've seen you before."
Novaeus smiled faintly. "I arrived today. Looking to start fresh. It seems fortune favors me already."
"Indeed, sir!" the manager said, laughing too loudly. "Luck like yours is rare in this business. My name's Julian Chao, by the way—general manager here."
"Novaeus Karion," he replied, extending a hand. "You may call me Nova, if you wish."
"Certainly, Mr. Nova. It's a pleasure."
Julian's handshake was firm, but his palms were damp. Inside, his mind raced. This man just gave away two million like loose change… who is he really?
And yet, outwardly, he smiled. Money was money.
"Well, Mr. Nova," he continued, "if you're feeling lucky, there's something special happening tonight—an invitation-only poker tournament. The prize pool exceeds a hundred million, mostly in U.S. dollars. Entry is ten million. I could secure you a seat… if you'd like to keep your streak alive."
Novaeus paused, considering. "A poker tournament, you say? Hm. Very well. Reserve me a seat. Also, book me a suite in your hotel. I could use rest before the event. Have food sent to my room, and someone to wake me when the games begin."
"Of course, sir! We'll have the finest suite prepared immediately." Julian bowed slightly, almost too eagerly. "Allow us to drive you there. It's the least we can do for our most distinguished guest."
"Very well," Novaeus said.
As dawn crept into the sky, soft and gold, the casino doors opened for him once more. The air outside smelled of sea salt and city smoke. He stepped into the waiting car, its doors closing with a whisper, and was driven toward the hotel.
By the time he arrived, the first sunlight had crowned the horizon.
The suite awaiting him was lavish—high ceilings, gold-lined curtains, marble floors, and a breakfast spread already waiting: eggs, bacon, buttered bread, toast, and a bowl of steaming congee.
Yet Novaeus ignored the food for now.
He crossed to the balcony and stepped into the light.
The city stretched below like circuitry—streets flashing with traffic, buildings catching the first touch of dawn, and people already hurrying toward their small, predetermined lives. Wind swept across his face, cool and fragrant with salt and smoke.
He breathed deeply, letting the golden light wash over him. The wind tugged faintly at his coat as the morning sun gleamed against his eyes.
A new world.
A new beginning.
Behind him, the city roared to life again—horns, chatter, footsteps, the grinding hum of machines. It was chaotic, imperfect, but full of motion. A perfect place to begin a quiet conquest.
EIDEN's soft voice came through the glasses once again. "The funds have been transferred successfully, my Lord. You now possess a verified account with plausible transaction history. From this point forward, your identity as Novaeus Karion is fully integrated into the system."
Novaeus smiled faintly. "Excellent. Then the first step is done. We have legitimacy, wealth, and visibility. All that remains is to build the foundation."
He turned his gaze toward the horizon, where light bled into clouds and skyscrapers pierced the morning fog. "This world moves on greed and illusion," he murmured. "It will never see us coming."
And as the sun rose fully, painting the skyline in fire and gold, Novaeus Karion stood still on that balcony—an echo of something far older than the city itself, quietly planning the next move in a game the world didn't yet know it was playing.