I Am The Villainess Who Will Tame Every Yandere Heroine!-Chapter 48: So She Gambles, So What?

The brothel was a riot of sound, scent, and sin.

Perfumed air clung thick to the skin, mingling with the sharp tang of alcohol and the lingering smoke of illicit substances.

The warm glow of lanterns flickered against the velvet-lined walls, casting long, teasing shadows over the establishment's patrons, men and women alike, draped in silk and indulgence.

Laughter rang from every corner, from the tables where men gambled away their dignity to the balconies where courtesans lounged, watching the scene unfold with lazy amusement.

Coins clinked, dice rolled, and fortunes were made and lost in the span of heartbeats.

Calix, whose cloak concealed most of his face, looked utterly scandalized. Mariella, though partially veiled in her hood, seemed… intrigued.

And at the center of it all, in the thick of vice and debauchery, was a man who hadn't even been there moments ago, because he had just become.

Serafine had switched to yet another borrowed appearance.

Gone was the scruffy thug from the front gate; in his place stood a handsome, rakish man, the perfect blend of roguish charm and effortless confidence.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark curls that fell rebelliously over his forehead and a smirk that spelled trouble.

His tailored vest stretched across a sculpted chest, his sleeves rolled up just enough to suggest he could fight, but wouldn't bother unless it was amusing.

Calix, upon seeing the transformation, immediately recoiled. "You changed again?!"

"A saintess must adapt to her surroundings, darling. A beautiful woman in a brothel raises questions, but a devastatingly handsome man? Now that's just expected."

Calix gagged. "Devastatingly handsome—!"

Before he could suffer further, a sultry voice cut in. "Well, well~ aren't you a fresh face?"

A courtesan, draped in gold and temptation, had slinked up beside Serafine, her long nails tracing idle circles against the fabric of his—her—sleeve. Her lips curled into a teasing smile. "What brings you here, handsome?"

The woman smirked, already slipping into character. "Fate, my dear. And a very flexible moral compass."

The woman giggled, leaning in closer—

Only to freeze.

A wave of suffocating dread suddenly filled the place, so heavy it felt like the temperature had dropped several degrees.

A sharp, deadly chill slithered up the courtesan's spine, a presence looming behind her like a ghost dragging its nails against her throat.

She turned her head, slowly, cautiously, only to find herself staring into Mariella's darkened gaze.

The intensity of it was terrifying.

Mariella wasn't glaring. She wasn't scowling. She was simply… staring. Unblinking. Expression calm.

Which somehow made it infinitely worse.

The courtesan took three steps back and excused herself immediately.

Serafine, thoroughly amused, leaned down to whisper, "Jealous, darling?"

Mariella did not deny it.

Meanwhile, at the far end of the room, a different kind of show was unfolding.

At a gambling table, a handsome young man sat with the kind of effortless arrogance only possessed by someone who never loses.

His dark blonde hair caught the glow of the lanterns, and his pale golden eyes gleamed with amusement as he laid his cards down with a flourish.

The poor soul across from him, some unfortunate noble, groaned, head falling into his hands.

"This is rigged!" the man wailed. "You—you demon! You're cheating!"

The young gambler grinned, tapping the growing pile of coins before him. "If I were cheating, my friend, you would have caught me by now. No, no… this is simply fate's will. And fate, it seems, likes me better."

It was at this moment that Calix finally understood why they had left at midnight.

His eye twitched. He turned slowly to Serafine. "You planned this."

"Coincidence is a funny thing, isn't it?"

"This is why we left at midnight, isn't it? Because you knew gambling would happening at this hour..."

She coughed into her fist. "I simply enjoy the atmosphere of a good bet."

Ignoring Calix's look of profound disappointment, Serafine strolled up to the gambling table, sliding into the recently vacated seat across from the young man.

She smirked. "Care for another round, darling?"

The young man blinked at her audacity, his gaze sweeping over her new form before settling on her smug expression.

Then he grinned. "You're brave."

She leaned forward. "I prefer 'reckless'."

And thus, the game began.

The rules of Blackjack were simple: each player was dealt two cards. The goal was to get as close to twenty-one as possible without going over. The players could hit (draw another card) or stay (keep their total). If they went over twenty-one, they busted and automatically lost.

At first, Serafine played recklessly, taking cards with wild abandon, gasping dramatically when she busted, throwing her hands in the air as if the gods themselves had cursed her.

The young man snorted, watching her antics with amusement.

But then… she changed.

Slowly, carefully, she began reading the game. Watching the cards. Counting them. Adjusting her bets. Taking control.

The young man's amusement faded into suspicion.

Calix's expression was one of exhausted betrayal. "You know how to gamble?!"

"I may or may not have had a wild youth."

"You were saintess."

Serafine smiled sweetly. "A saintess with a suspiciously high win rate."

And then, with a flourish, she laid her cards down.

Twenty-one.

The young man stared.

Serafine grinned. "Oops. Did I win?"

Back in her previous life as a politician, she had been exposed to gambling dens—purely in the line of duty, of course. Technically, it was her job to eliminate them. Technically.

But instead of ridding the world of such dens of vice… well… she may have controlled a few. Maybe even owned one or two.

Look, nobody's perfect.

Besides, what was so bad about gambling?

It wasn't that sinful.

It wasn't like she was out there committing murder or anything.

Just… occasionally swindling a few unsuspecting souls out of their riches.

A victimless crime, really.

"So…" The boy smirked, lounging back in his seat with the air of someone who had never lost a bet in his life. "What do you want, gentleman?"

She mirrored his smirk, resting her chin on her hand as if she had all the time in the world. "I could say the same for you," she drawled, then leaned in just enough for her next words to land with the weight of a well-placed dagger. "Second prince."

Both of her disciples nearly choked on their own shock. 'The second prince?!' Their thoughts might as well have been written in bright, flashing letters across their faces.

It was insane.

Donovan, the second prince of Oradale, the younger brother of the crown prince, was here—gambling and betting in a brothel, of all places.

It was unbefitting of royalty, a complete disgrace to the pristine, noble image that a prince should uphold.

And yet, here he was, looking very much at home amidst the dimly lit tables and stacks of coin, utterly unbothered by the debauchery surrounding him.

To be fair, it wasn't that surprising they hadn't recognized him sooner.

The second prince was a shadow, always lurking behind the crown prince, a whisper rather than a declaration, a hand that operated from the dark rather than a face that smiled for the public.

He wasn't a mystery, per se. Just… a very conveniently forgotten royal.

But that didn't mean he wasn't powerful. He was more than powerful.

"Seems like you're not just here to gamble," the second prince mused, tilting his head as he examined Serafine with those sharp, golden eyes.

"Truthfully, I am," Serafine admitted, flashing an easy grin. "Just... not with cards."

The other men at the table, previously just background props in this grand performance, suddenly straightened, their hands twitching toward hidden weapons. A few chairs scraped ominously against the floor.

'Ah, the classic 'Is it time to stab someone?' moment. A staple of every good gambling den.'

Serafine, of course, remained blissfully unfazed. Calix, on the other hand, pinched the bridge of his nose so hard it looked like he was trying to erase his own existence while Mariella hid behind him.

Before things could escalate into an impromptu bar fight, the second prince lifted a lazy hand, wordlessly signaling his men to back down. They obeyed immediately, but their gazes remained sharp, like hunting dogs waiting for the next command.

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"Well," the prince drawled, leaning forward. "What the winner wants, the winner gets."

"Then perhaps... a woman in one of your keepings?"

The prince's expression didn't change, but something flickered behind his golden gaze. "And how do you know about that?"

"My, my! I thought secrets weren't meant to be shared..."

The prince let out a quiet chuckle, tapping his fingers against the table in amusement. "A bold claim. But you do know what happens to people who dig too deep into my secrets, don't you?"

"Oh, I never really dug deep. I just know things."

The second prince leaned back in his chair, studying Serafine with an amused glint in his golden eyes. Then, in a tone so casual it was almost dismissive, he said,

"The moon wanes, but the sun never sets."

Calix and Mariella blinked.

Serafine, however, didn't even hesitate. With a sly smirk, she responded just as smoothly,

"And yet, in the darkest hour, even the sun must wear a mask."

A heavy silence followed.

The prince's fingers, which had been idly drumming against the table, stopped. His gaze sharpened, all traces of his prior amusement vanishing like a wisp of smoke.

"You win once again."

Donovan stood up with an easy smirk, rolling his shoulders as if losing didn't bother him in the slightest. The golden-haired prince flicked his fingers, and in an instant, the entire mood of the brothel shifted.

The courtesans, who had been draping themselves over wealthy patrons, subtly straightened, casting glances in his direction.

The gamblers, who had been deep in their bets, suddenly seemed less invested in their losing streaks.

Even the guards near the entrance adjusted their postures, hands resting lightly on the hilts of hidden weapons.

Every single person in this establishment was on his side.

"Follow me," he said smoothly, gesturing for them to trail after him.

Mariella, of course, practically skipped after him like an excited puppy, while Calix hesitated, looking like he would rather walk straight into a pit of vipers than whatever nonsense Serafine had dragged him into.

Serafine? Oh, she just strolled along with her hands in her pockets, whistling like she hadn't just infiltrated a prince's secret base.

But this wasn't just a brothel.

And it wasn't just a gambling den, either.

Donovan led them past the lavish decor of the main hall. the golden chandeliers, the velvet curtains, the perfumed air laced with something expensive yet intoxicating.

He wove through corridors that twisted and turned, past rooms filled with soft laughter and whispered secrets.

Then, with an almost lazy motion, he stopped in front of an extravagant, full-length mirror at the very end of a hallway.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, with a faint mechanical click, the mirror shimmered like water before shifting, the reflective surface sliding away to reveal a dark passageway.

A narrow stairwell descended into the shadows, lit only by flickering torches embedded in the walls.

With that, the mirror slid shut behind them, sealing them away from the world above.