Fortified Wager ♤♤♤ 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 1
♦︎♦︎ Aventurine x Reader ♦︎♦︎ 𝕀𝕝𝕝𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕
🄱🄰🄲🄺 🅃🄾 【Ｐｒｏｌｏｇｕｅ】
╔══ ≪ ♤♤♤ ≫ ══╗
Yours was a meeting not meant to be.
“—Should we check out that famous nightclub, Primavera?”
It all began when your friends invited you for a night out.
“C’mon, we should let loose! Our finals just wrapped up today!”
Your friend smiled at you, pleading with her gaze.
Inside, your introverted self and your wallet were screaming, ‘nooo!’
“Sure.” You answered.
Truthfully, you only really tagged along after they promised to treat you. Who could say no to free food, especially from such an exclusive place?
Not you, definitely.
Besides, you’d never gone to a nightclub before.
The moment you set foot inside, you were overwhelmed by the dazzling neon lights and blaring loud music.
Your friends immediately stepped into the dance floor, having the time of their lives, and you followed suit. Only for a bit.
You decided you had enough of brushing and stumbling against total strangers, on top of performing a series of stiff movements that outclassed even a robot, and went to see what the bar had to offer.
...Or more like, what your part-timer, broke ass college student wallet allowed you to have.
Because it was a regular weekday, the bar wasn’t overly crowded, you sat on one of the bar stools. The nice bartender asked for your order. It wasn’t every day that you get to sit in such a fancy place, so you ordered something daring.
Before long, your colorful, alcoholic beverage made its way to you in a tall glass, with a cute tiny umbrella on the side.
As bold as you were, you were still sane, so instead of downing it in one go, you took a little sip through the straw.
It tasted sweet at first, yet left a bitter aftertaste—not that you minded.
You took more small sips, drowning out the booming music with your thoughts, which was becoming increasingly difficult with the next table hosting its own party.
Out of curiosity—and slight annoyance—you sneaked a glance, wanting to see what the fuss was about.
The next table was surrounded by a bunch of dapper men dressed in well-tailored suits. Since their attire all had something in common, you concluded that it was a uniform of some kind. They were probably employees from the same company.
Cards and chips were scattered on the table.
You could tell what they were doing at a glance.
Inwardly, you grimaced in disapproval.
Then again, you were in a nightclub. What did you expect? A group of men holding candles as they recited a prayer for a sacred mass?
Among them, two men were sitting across from each other. The moment you laid eyes on one of them—the blond guy on the right—you momentarily forgot how to breathe.
Locks of his tousled, blond hair, which flowed to his nape, shimmered under the flashing neon lights. Sometimes blue. Sometimes pink. Sometimes gold.
His purplish, cyan eyes were serene, devoid of any worries. A smile tugged at his supple lips as he casually glanced at his cards.
If not for those around him, you’d have believed that he had emerged the victor.
However, seeing how fervently those across him were booing him, and in turn, cheered for the other guy... Right, the other guy, that couldn’t be farther from the truth.
As for those on his side, at first, it may seem as if they were smiling, but it didn’t take long for you to realize that they were sneering.
It was as if they only stood there to laugh at the blond man’s cards and berate him for it.
How did you know that?
By that point, as the game between the two gentlemen grew more heated, more and more people started to gather around them, forming a crowd.
A sneak peek wouldn’t hurt.
As such, you, with your now neglected drink, scooted over to the table.
That was how some of their gleeful conversations reached your ears.
“...His luck has run out.”
“Seems like it.”
“He can only pray that Mr. Duane will show him some mercy, which I doubt will happen, since he’s been eyeing that position for a while.”
...Which wasn’t the kind of tea you’d expect from such a settlement, but okay.
‘Avgin’? Is that his name?
But why does it sound familiar...
You glanced at the other guy—the supposed ‘Mr. Duane’—right as he stood up with both hands on the table, leaning over the blond man as if looking down on him.
“—Good luck on not ending up in a ditch somewhere tomorrow! You should’ve agreed to let me take over when I was still being nice!”
His breath reeked of alcohol. Gross. Make senses, looking at all the champagne glasses strewn around his side of the table. As for his looks, it was ehh, compared to the guy who sat across from him, he was just—
“—What’s the hurry? The night has just begun.”
The instant that carefree yet melodious voice entered your ear, you forgot everything else as tension left your body. Only then did you realize that you were gripping your glass tightly.
A second later, it dawned on you how absurd it was.
What on earth were you doing?
These gentlemen were wearing custom-tailored uniforms studded with authentic jewels, sipping glass after glass of premium wine, so they probably had a high-profile job.
What they had squandered, they could easily recover tomorrow.
As for you, you only had the remaining hours of today before returning to the college grind tomorrow. It would be best for you to leave that silly little show behind.
“If you know what’s best for you, you’ll forfeit this game!”
In contrast to Mr. Duane, who was getting riled up for some reason, the blond stranger was relaxed.
“But why? Didn't you say you'd show me the ropes? Is this all you've got? Just when things were starting to get fun...”
See? Even the blond gentleman himself is unfazed. He acts like a child whose toy was taken away!
Therefore, this has to be a game.
A game with no real stake...
“—You damned Avgin! Let's see if you can still smile when I charge you with scamming the IPC and have you shot on the spot!”
You were about to turn on your heels when Mr. Duane spat out those words.
It was at that moment when you learned that 'Avgin' wasn’t just any name, but more of a derogatory slur, and that these people were chastising him for reasons beyond just being dealt a bad hand.
...Then again, rich people were just messed up like that.
It had nothing to do with you.
Those behind the blond man began to pile on him.
“Hey, if you beg, you might still be able to work for us...”
So what if losing would cost him more than just a few bucks?
“We all know it’s a harsh world for an Avgin out there. Don’t be so stubborn.”
So what if no one was really on his side?
“Your arrogance will be the end of you...”
So what if everyone was secretly hoping for his defeat all along?
Gambling’s stupid anyway!
You were getting worked up for no reason!
He was a grown man! He was perfectly capable of standing up for himself! Instead of shrugging those hurtful comments off with a smile... A smile so sad.
You tried to collect yourself. You didn’t understand where all of these emotions were coming from. Besides your own sense of self-righteousness and newfound attachment towards that dangerously handsome stranger, of course.
The situation was steadily worsening for the blond gambler, evident from the mounting pile of chips on the other guy’s side of the table.
Mr. Duane laughed out loud while his buddies snickered behind him. Those who stood behind the blond gambler were grinning. As for the blond man himself, he was staring listlessly at his cards for some reason, with an empty smile plastered across his face.
His wrist was hanging powerlessly, seemingly ready to drop what little was left of his cards and throw the game.
Did all of those offensive remarks finally get to him?
Seeing that, something inside you fell, and a bleak gasp escaped your lips.
...No way.
Only then did you realize it.
Deep down, were you hoping for him to win all along?
You clenched your fists.
As the sudden realization hit you, Mr. Duane and his cronies started pestering him again.
“There’s no harm in giving up, you know.”
“Sometimes you just have to accept defeat.”
At that moment, quietly, sincerely, you prayed in your heart—
“—SHOW THEM!! SHOW THEM WHAT YOU GOT!! DON’T LOSE!!”
Please win.
...Or at least, that was how it was supposed to be, until your mouth decided to outrun your heart.
Alcohol. It was the alcohol’s fault.
You were frozen in place, reeling from the embarrassment.
It went without saying that you successfully garnered the attention of those around you, and above all, of the pair of cyan layering on violet eyes.
They were widened in shock as the owner turned around in your direction.
It's unclear whether he caught sight of you, as by that point, you had already run away as fast as you could.
Not going back to that nightclub for a second time was pretty much a certainty by that point, and not because of financial constraints.
🂡 🂠 🂣 🂠
...Apparently, the blond gambler did win in the end.
Once again, how did you know this?
...It went without saying that you couldn’t just gallop out of a nightclub with their cocktail glass still in hand. The bartender wouldn’t let you.
Also, during your panic moment, you unlocked a certain skill and somehow managed not to spill the drink, so the glass was still half-full. You couldn’t just leave your drink unfinished. The fact that you spent a huge chunk of your salary as a part-timer to buy it wouldn’t let you.
However, just as you went right back inside, a familiar guy hurried past you.
It was none other than Mr. Duane. He was fuming as he made big strides towards the exit. Considering that he was alone, it seemed that his coworkers were left behind.
It wasn’t difficult for you to get the full story, because by the time you returned to the bar section, the blond gambler had become the talk of everyone there, if not the entire nightclub. Of course, the game was long over.
Nevertheless, the winner wasn’t quite what everyone expected.
Yes, it wasn’t Mr. Duane, but Aventurine.
Aventurine.
You let that name roll over your tongue a few times.
Still, that wasn’t the end of it.
There was a foul play.
Mr. Duane was cheating. and the game itself was rigged in his favor. The guy even paid the dealer. In short, everything was an elaborate setup to get this Aventurine guy to surrender his position.
The fact that he still loses, though...
Well, now that everything was settled, Mr. Duane did sound like the whole circus, but that wasn’t what everyone was focusing on.
Apparently, as difficult as it was to believe, the setup was just THAT elaborate and Aventurine really, really wasn’t supposed to win.
He only did because he beat the guy at his own game.
No matter how perfect the plan was, Mr. Duane himself wasn’t impervious to making mistakes.
As Mr. Duane got one step closer to victory, he became more and more cocky, which resulted in a blunder and ultimately, his downfall.
Thus, Aventurine made a name for himself.
Hearing that, the cocktail you were sipping suddenly became all the sweeter.
Best night ever.
...Although, if you had one complaint...
“Congratulations, Mr. Aventurine! We know you’d win!”
“We always believe in you, Mr. Aventurine!”
Standing just a few seats away from you was the champion himself, along with his ‘entourage.’
What a bunch of suck-ups.
Yes, said ‘entourage’ was none other than those guys who were wishing for his defeat earlier.
Now that Aventurine had secured his position, the same couldn’t be said about them. After all, they did diss him, hence the ass-kissing.
You unconsciously sipped your drink faster.
Shameless. Utterly shameless, a bunch of them.
In fact, some who were standing quite nearby were still badmouthing Aventurine, being self-conscious enough to lower their voices.
You didn’t miss them, though.
“...He’s so full of himself.” One of them said.
“Yeah, smug bastard. He makes me sick.” Another replied.
...Well, as they say, loser talk.
All’s well that ends well.
Those were your most recent recollections of that bittersweet night.
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🄾🄽🅆🄰🅁🄳 🅃🄾 【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ ２】
