Chapter 100: The List (20)
Lucien fanned his three cards out across the blanket, the edges still stiff from the shuffle.
He studied them in silence, jaw tightening, because every instinct screamed at him that he’d just been.
The first card was breathtaking in its artistry: a winged serpent, scales like polished emeralds, its wings unfurling in a storm of clouds that seemed to ripple even in stillness.
Beneath its painted body shimmered the stats: Strength 8, Magic 9, Defense 2.
A beast born for offense; sharp, devastating, but with a hide as fragile as wet paper in the rain.
The second card depicted a knight clad in silver, faceless behind a visor, crouched behind a massive tower shield carved with runes.
Strength 3, Magic 2, Defense 10.
Solid, immovable, dependable… and utterly uninspired.
It could tank anything, yes, but it couldn’t strike back to save its life.
The third card made him blink.
At first, he thought the artist was making a cruel joke.
It was some gelatinous, wobbling creature, something between a jellyfish and microwaved pudding.
Its translucent body sagged in defeat, tentacles drooping as if it had already given up on life.
Strength 1, Magic 1, Defense 1.
“…I kind of feel bad for it,” he muttered under his breath, glaring at the rainbow-colored blob.
Across from him, Vivien sat with her hands folded neatly, posture so perfect it could have been carved in marble.
A faint smirk tugged at her lips, though her eyes betrayed nothing.
The perfect noblewoman’s mask: serene, composed, unreadable.
Lucien forced himself to look away from her and back at the cards, trying to piece together some kind of strategy.
The serpent could carry him if he called Strength or Magic, but then the knight dragged the total down.
If he called Defense, the knight would shine… but the serpent’s pathetic 2 would crater the score.
And the jellyfish, he scowled again, added practically nothing to any calculation.
‘So that’s it. Two cards that don’t sync with each other at all, and one that might as well be a blank piece of paper. Wonderful.’
His mind ticked.
‘The serpent is a nuke, but it’s fragile. The knight’s a wall, but dead weight in offense. The jellyfish is just… garbage. If I keep this hand, no matter which stat I call, I’m hamstringing myself somewhere. I’ll lose the moment she pressures me into the stat I can’t cover.’
Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose.
‘No. If I’m going to have even a chance, I need to ditch the jelly. At least then, maybe the new card will lean into one side hard enough to give me leverage.’
He raised his eyes and caught Vivien watching him, her gaze calm, predatory.
There was the faintest flicker of curiosity, maybe amusement, dancing in her otherwise cold neutrality.
Lucien cleared his throat, his voice coming out shakier than intended.
“So… who goes first?”
Vivien tilted her head slightly, strands of golden hair catching the lamplight.
“Traditionally? A coin toss.”
Her lips curved in that infuriatingly polite way.
“But since this is your first time, and I am nothing if not generous, I’ll allow you to go first.”
Lucien clicked his tongue.
That smugness, he couldn’t tell if it was genuine kindness, aristocratic arrogance, or some hidden trap disguised as civility.
Was going first a disadvantage?
Did it give her some edge?
Or was she just so confident she thought she didn’t need one?
He narrowed his eyes.
“How magnanimous of you.”
Her smile widened by the faintest fraction.
With a sigh, Lucien picked up the jellyfish card between his fingers and set it face-down on the blanket.
“I’ll swap,” he said flatly, trying to sound like it was part of some grand design rather than sheer desperation.
For the first time, Vivien’s eyes flickered. Barely, but enough.
She’d noticed the discard.
Whether she was amused or disappointed, he couldn’t tell, because the noble mask returned in an instant.
Lucien reached toward the deck, heart ticking like a drum in his chest.
One card.
One chance to salvage this wreck of a hand. His fingers brushed the back of the top card, when the infirmary doors slammed open with a bang loud enough to rattle the beds.
***
The infirmary doors burst open with a noisy clatter, only for a nurse’s sharp “shhh!” to slice the air like a whip.
The trio froze mid-step.
Vaelira raised her hands in surrender, her braid bouncing as she whispered, “Terribly sorry, truly!”
Balt ducked his head sheepishly, his frame shrinking under the nurse’s glare.
Corin, on the other hand, just looked mildly confused, as though wondering what, exactly, had been so loud.
Lucien chuckled from his bed, rubbing his temple.
“You people always know how to make an entrance…”
The three newcomers shuffled in more quietly.
Vaelira’s eyes immediately lit up at the sight of him, though her gaze quickly caught on the girl sitting opposite.
Vivien sat perfectly poised, posture stiff as a drawn bowstring, her narrowed eyes sweeping across the intruders like a blade.
Vaelira, undeterred, crossed the room with deliberate grace and perched at the foot of Lucien’s bed.
“So,” Vaelira pointed to the sling Lucien's arm was dangling in.
“Quite the condition you are in, well at least you are conscious and…playing… card..? With… Whom? May I ask, who graces us with such… intensity?”
Vivien’s chin tilted upward, a refined smile playing at her lips though the chill behind it was unmistakable.
“Vivien Astor. And this is not some diversion, it is a duel of wit and foresight. Matters far removed from the games you might be accustomed to.”
Vaelira’s left brow twitched, though her smile did not falter.
“Then I stand corrected. I shall not mistake this match for mere recreation again.”
Balt, oblivious to the sparks crackling between the two women, clapped the bedframe with a grin.
“Still, congrats, Lucien! Taking down Phillip like that? That was a decisive victory! I was at the edge of my seat for the whole thing!”
Vivien’s polite mask thinned, her voice sharp.
“Taking down? If you mean stumbling into fortune’s lap, then yes. Though I wouldn’t expect someone of your… sensibilities to appreciate true refinement in victory.”
Balt blinked, scratching the back of his head.
“…Right. Thanks, I guess?”
Despite her choice of words and phrasing, Vivien’s hostility towards the two came off as rancid as it should.
Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Please, for the love of sanity, stop feeding her.”
Meanwhile, Corin had already assessed the tension.
He gave Lucien’s uninjured shoulder a quick pat.
“Glad you’re breathing,” he said simply, before retreating toward a nurse’s desk in the back.
There he struck up a low conversation, voice kept deliberately quiet, eyes firmly fixed away from the others as though he’d made a conscious decision that whatever battlefield this was, verbal or otherwise, he wasn’t going to step onto it.
His posture stayed relaxed, almost detached, signaling distance without outright refusal.
Introductions settled, if that word could be stretched so far, the duel continued. Not with steel, but with intent and observation, tension threading the space between those who remained engaged while the rest chose their silence.
Lucien glanced at his cards, keeping them close to his chest, angled so no one could peek.
Only he knew the mess fate had dealt him: the emerald-winged serpent with dazzling strength but brittle defense; the silver knight stoic behind his shield, immovable yet offensively useless; and, gods help him, the jellyfish, translucent, pathetic, a dead weight that dragged down every possible play.
‘I suppose I can't make any play without swapping the jellyfish, but I can only draw twice. Will this be worth it?’
He rubbed the edge of the jellyfish card, jaw tightening.
‘I can’t win with this hand. I need to risk the swap.’
His fingers hovered over the remaining cards of the deck.
Across from him, Vivien’s eyes sharpened like a hawk’s.
She could not see his hand, yet the faintest hesitation was enough to set her thoughts ablaze.
‘He’s swapping. Why? Was his hand truly that poor? Or is this performance meant to unnerve me? A weak hand means the new card could tip the entire match. Unless it’s a bluff. Unless he wants me to overthink. Curse it- what if he draws a Legendary? What if he aligns it with some hidden piece and forces me into a corner? Or worse- what if he wants me to believe he’s desperate, only to conceal a perfect spread?’
Her gaze remained perfectly still, mask flawless, while inside her mind every possible outcome tangled into knots.
Lucien finally slid the jellyfish card face-down into the discard and reached for the deck.
One draw.
One chance to salvage the disaster.
He drew.
Turned it over, and froze.
The same jellyfish stared back at him.
“…You have to be kidding,” he muttered under his breath, shoulder sagging.
