Chapter 302: Nearing the Prophecy

The door opened with a soft hiss, and a woman in a red and black uniform walked in—a senior floor manager by the look of her badge and composure. She carried a polished silver plate, but instead of food, a single black card rested on it, its surface faintly glinting under the chandelier.

“Mr. Xavier,” she said respectfully, lowering her head slightly. “Your total winnings have been credited. Seven hundred and thirty billion.”

Xavier glanced at the plate, his eyes narrowing slightly. He’d already received the system notification a few minutes ago—the confirmation flickering across his neural interface while he was cutting into his steak. The casino’s gesture was ceremonial at best. The card wasn’t even linked to a bank; Angel had gotten it made for him through her hacker network—an untraceable bio-keyed chip that only recognized Xavier’s DNA pattern.

Still, he played along, setting down his knife. “Seven hundred and thirty?” he asked lazily. “Wasn’t it eight hundred?”

The manager hesitated, then replied carefully. “Yes, sir. However, a ten percent deduction is automatically applied to any winnings exceeding one billion credits. Fees, processing, redistribution levies… standard Red Casino policy.”

“Ah.” Xavier leaned back in his chair and smirked faintly. “Didn’t know those rules also applied to the Red family themselves.”

That comment landed sharp. The air shifted—just slightly—but enough for everyone at the table to notice. Yelena’s crimson eyes flicked toward the manager, her smile still fixed, but her tone lost its warmth. “Return it,” she said simply.

The manager blinked. “M–Miss Yelena, that’s against regulation. The deduction’s already been logged, and the report’s likely reached Central Ledger by now. If the Patriarch sees any irregularity—”

“I said,” Yelena repeated, her tone lowering just a shade, “credit it back.”

The woman swallowed, her throat bobbing. “But Miss—”

Yelena turned her head, her expression cold but calm. “I’ll handle it. If there’s fallout, tell them it was my instruction. You won’t be held responsible.”

The manager stood there for a few seconds, frozen between fear and disbelief, before bowing again. “Understood, Miss. I’ll have it processed immediately.”

As the staff exited, Lyra leaned back in her seat, still chewing, her voice dripping with casual amusement. “You really don’t like losing even a little, huh?”

Yelena didn’t look at her. “Money isn’t the point,” she said softly, still watching Xavier. “It’s about principle. No one takes from my table unless I say so.”

Xavier met her gaze, a faint grin tugging at his lips. “Guess that makes us similar then.”

Yelena smiled back, but there was something behind her eyes now—an unspoken recognition of the game they were both playing. Power wasn’t about words or contracts here; it was about gestures. The kind that said more than they ever needed to.

A quiet chime sounded in Xavier’s system feed: [Credit Received: +80,000,000,000]

He didn’t react, just resumed eating, his tone casual. “Guess your people listen fast.”

Yelena poured herself a glass of red wine, her expression composed. “They have to,” she said simply. “In the Red family, hesitation kills faster than bullets.”

Lyra muttered under her breath, “Sounds like a fun family dinner.”

Xavier smirked at that, and even Yelena allowed herself a quiet laugh before leaning back in her chair, glass glinting in her hand.

After finishing their meal and tossing a few casual remarks between bites, Xavier stood up, wiping his mouth with the napkin before tossing it aside. The three of them walked out together — Yelena trailing a few steps behind, still composed but visibly tense, like she didn’t want the night to end there. Xavier gave her a small nod before stepping out of the casino, the glow of the Red Casino flickering against the wet street.

His black hovercar was already parked out front, sleek and still humming softly. The gullwing door hissed open just as he approached — and instead of the driver’s side, Angel came out from the passenger seat, arms crossed, her tone laced with that familiar mix of irritation and smugness.

Took you long enough,” she said, tapping her wristband. “I’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes. Why weren’t you answering your texts?”

Xavier tilted his head slightly, eyes calm. “Was having a business meeting.”

Angel narrowed her eyes, reading him like she always did, but didn’t press. Instead, she turned to the driver’s side — and that’s when the woman behind the wheel stepped out. She had green hair cropped short, dark eyes that almost glowed, and an eerie calmness in the way she moved — like precision in human form. She greeted Xavier politely, bowing slightly.

“Sir Xavier. It’s an honor.”

Xavier looked at her, then at Angel. “Who dis?”

Angel smirked faintly, brushing her hair back. “Elira,” she said, gesturing to the woman. “My assistant. Well— technically, she’s an android. Artificial human prototype.”

Elira smiled — or tried to. It was too perfect, too practiced. “Miss Angel instructed me to learn from your behavioral patterns, sir.”

Xavier raised an eyebrow but didn’t say much. Lyra, standing beside him, was already giving Elira a curious once-over, as if trying to figure out what made her different from a normal human.

Angel and Lyra exchanged a quick greeting — the kind that carried a strange familiarity and underlying competitiveness. They’d met before. The tension between them wasn’t new; it just shifted form depending on who had Xavier’s attention that night.

“Ready to leave?” Xavier asked, tone flat.

Angel nodded. He got into the backseat, Lyra sliding in next to him. Just as he settled, the opposite door opened again and Angel slipped inside, plopping herself right beside him.

Xavier gave her a look — silent but clear: There’s a perfectly fine passenger seat up front.

Angel just smiled, leaned back, and said nothing.

Outside, Elira started the hovercar and it lifted off the ground with a faint hum. The neon reflections from the casino rippled across the car’s sleek surface as they sped through the city. Then, the familiar music began — Angel’s playlist. The same one that used to echo through the Midnight Club’s room whenever Xavier dropped by. The bass matched the pulse of the ambient lights Elira had synced with the car’s system, painting the cabin in alternating hues of crimson and violet.

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