MGN | Chapter 2

#2

On the glass ashtray above the slot machine, a long cigarette was still smoldering. The scent of roses was so strong it covered the bitter smell, but what was more striking was the man’s appearance.

His eyes, with drooping corners, seemed half-open, as if mixed with sleepiness, laziness, and boredom. The whites of his eyes were as cold and gray as a gloomy sky. His lower lashes were dense, creating a clear boundary between the bluish tint of his eyes and the rest. The shadow from his deep-set eye sockets was dark, and the area under his eyes was sunken, making him look precarious. His mouth was large. His jet-black hair was tousled, contrasting with his pale skin.

He was beautiful. A kind of beauty that seemed to be built up to the brink of collapse, making it impossible to look away.

‘Still.’

He was a person who openly labeled others’ misfortunes as a homo love drama.

Maël knew people like this. The kind of low-life punks scattered around Monaco, where one in three people is a millionaire. Disgusting rich folks who, with nothing to worry about, use their money to toy with people because their lives are so smooth they’re boring.

“The amount is excessive compared to what you showed.”

So Maël spoke dryly. He had no intention of staging the drama these people wanted.

The other person, undeterred, placed a fifty-thousand-euro note at the edge of the slot machine.

“The giver decides that.”

As he sat up straight, his tall stature became apparent. The man’s gray eyes blatantly scanned Maël’s face.

‘Who the heck is he?’

He was definitely not a journalist. There couldn’t be a journalist in the world bold enough to offer such money just for a peek.

‘Still…….’

Maël recalled the conversations he’d had here.

Ms. Clermont’s complicated divorce case, Charles urging him to keep their secret relationship, his sister on the brink of a much-talked-about marriage.

None of these conversations would benefit from being known outside.

“Then how about I pay for a look at your face?”

A languid suggestion echoed in Maël’s ears as he hesitated. With a slight smirk, the man flicked the paper with his index finger before Maël could even be shocked.

“Are you thinking of leaving?”

His blunt tone brought a hollow laugh. Dealing with someone who valued their curiosity over basic manners was exhausting.

Above all, his gaze.

He stared at Maël without a hint of caution or courtesy, as if it was perfectly fine.

The humiliation Maël had experienced since entering the smoking room had already reached its limit, and all he wanted was to get out of there.

Tap.

So Maël grabbed the paper with the six-digit number. The enormous amount fluttered lightly.

“Thanks for the viewing fee.”

After saying that, Maël folded it in half and pushed it back.

“I’ll give you this. For keeping quiet about what happened in this room.”

With that, Maël left. The man just sat in front of the noisy machine, staring at the piece of paper Maël had pushed over.

* * *

“Oppa.”

After vomiting everything into the toilet, Maël faced his sister Manon, who was waiting for him outside the bathroom.

“Did something happen with Charles? You didn’t look good. Was it because I told you to surprise him?”

Thirty minutes ago, it was his sister who had caught Maël lingering with documents at the ticket counter, saying she had just finished eating at the casino restaurant. She was also the one who subtly mentioned that Charles was heading to the smoking room.

Something did happen. But there was no need to share every little detail, so Maël shook his head.

“It’s nothing. But why are you still here? You should rest after eating.”

“I was about to leave with Philippe, but then the crown prince showed up. He insisted on keeping him, and when he found out you were here, he made a fuss about bringing you.”

That made his expression harden. Manon gently tugged at the hem of Maël’s jacket, stomping her foot.

“It’ll just be a moment. Really quick. Everyone knows you’re busy.”

It was troublesome for both of them. There was only one answer, so Maël forced a smile.

“Where is he?”

“In the innermost private hall.”

Relief washed over his sister’s face as she answered.

Monte Carlo Casino had six halls, excluding the bar and two restaurants. Four open halls where any adult with proper attire could enter by paying an entrance fee, and two private halls for membership members only.

Among them, Crown Prince Felix, the future ruler of the Principality of Monaco, preferred the innermost hall.

It was an open secret that on days without official duties, he gathered his brother Prince Philippe and close aides for gambling.

“Manon Mathieu-nim.”

As Prince Philippe’s fiancée, his sister, already a famous figure in Monaco, could open the door to the private hall just by showing her face.

Inside the tightly closed, windowless hall, cigarette smoke hung under the dazzling chandelier and Rococo-style paintings on the high walls. The crown prince and his entourage, holding glasses filled with colorful alcohol, chattered around the roulette table.

“Not bad. He seemed like an interesting guy.”

“Really? Are you talking about the guy who bought that troublesome hotel chain?”

“Yeah. He did real estate business in Eastern Europe or something. He’s got money, but his poker skills are amazing, so be careful. Last time, I lost everything playing with him.”

The red-haired man, who had been grumbling, jumped up and shouted as soon as he saw Maël.

“Maël! You finally came. Only one person can bet on the number Maël chooses. One person per spot.”

Crown Prince Felix. He changed the rules of the gambling game at will and laughed, showing his teeth.

“Come on, Maël. Quickly, tell us a number that catches your eye.”

“Isn’t gambling illegal for people from the principality in the casino?”

“Manon, your brother always says stuff like that, so boring.”

Those who thought they were above the law chuckled. Trying to force a smile to appease them was a struggle, especially with his cheating ex-boyfriend standing to the right of the crown prince.

When he finally didn’t speak, Prince Philippe, who would become his sister’s husband, frowned.

“Still…… Maël, tell us.”

His speech was slow. He had to catch his breath in the middle due to lung issues. In the meantime, Maël managed to pull up a smile.

“I’m just lucky sometimes. You all still believe Manon’s exaggerations.”

In response, Felix burst into laughter.

“What are you talking about? Besides roulette, your gambling luck is amazing, Maël.”

“It’s all just coincidence.”

“Stop being modest. If you get it right again, I’ll set you up with a good-looking guy. Some racing driver who’s desperate for sponsorship. He’s ready for anything, front and back.”

Before he could even be shocked by the unwanted matchmaking, Charles looked at Maël inquisitively. But it was Philippe who spoke up.

“You’re disgusting.”

“There must be women at the wedding who don’t know Maël is gay. What if they make a fool of themselves? It’d be good if he had someone with him.”

At Felix’s blatant words, his sister’s expression hardened. Anyway, there was only one thing Maël could do to change the chilly atmosphere.

“Seven. Somehow, it feels right.”

When he said the number, Philippe placed all his chips on the red 7 on the betting table.

And those around him slowly pushed their chips into the grid.

1st 12¹, 1-18², ODD³, the leftmost 2 to 1⁴, on the edge of the 7 grid⁵. Despite the difference in odds, everyone seemed to believe the roulette ball would stop on 7.

“What, so boring.”

When things turned out that way, Felix frowned.

“This isn’t fun. Maël, do you want to bet on something else? Other than 7.”

“I don’t have any chips.”

He thought it was a reasonable refusal. Until a long arm reached out behind him.

“I’ll bet for you.”

Even without turning around, he could guess who it was.

“I don’t have chips either.”

The deep voice that scratched at him, along with the strong rose scent, and the folded piece of paper thrown onto the betting table.