Chapter 198: Capitalism is the Best Foreplay
The room went completely silent. This was no longer just Monopoly; this had transford into sothing else entirely. A ga within a ga. A test. A challenge.
The weight of what I was doing settled over the table like a blanket. This wasn’t about properties or money anymore. This was about information, leverage, and the subtle warfare of social manipulation.
Natalia leaned in close to whisper urgently in Akari’s ear, her purple eyes never leaving mine. Even from across the table, I could hear the sharp warning in her voice. "Don’t do it. It’s a trap. He always has an angle."
But Akari was already smiling, her eyes sparkling with the unmistakable gleam of soone who not only enjoyed playing with fire but actively sought it out for entertainnt. The kind of person who saw a trap and walked into it anyway just to see what would happen.
"Deal," she said, extending her hand across the table.
We made the exchange, Juan sighing deeply as he grudgingly handed over the orange property card like he was watching soone sign their own execution warrant. Jacob looked like he was simultaneously running victory probability scenarios and funeral arrangents in his head, his fingers twitching toward his datapad.
Natalia’s expression was ice, her jaw set.
I pocketed the Get Out of Jail Free card and leaned forward, my gaze locked with Akari’s, giving her my full attention. The question I was about to ask had been forming in my mind since I’d first t the twins, since I’d first noticed the disconnect between their obvious talents and their placent in the lowest-ranked guild.
"Why did you and your sister really choose Onyx?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. Even Carn stirred slightly on my shoulder, as if her unconscious mind was tuning in to the sudden shift in tension. The alcohol-induced sleep wasn’t deep enough to completely miss this.
Akari’s playful expression shifted, the mask slipping just slightly to reveal sothing more genuine underneath—sothing far more interesting than the bubbly gyaru persona she wore like armor.
She leaned in too, matching my posture, and for a mont we were conspirators sharing secrets across a battlefield disguised as a coffee table.
"Because the view from the top is boring," she said, her voice low enough that only those closest could hear, stripped of its usual teasing lilt. This was real. This was honest. "When you’re at the peak, everything is predictable. Everyone treats you the sa way—either kissing your ass or resenting you from a safe distance. It’s a script, and everyone knows their lines." She paused, her smile turning sharper. "It’s much more fun to watch a kingdom burn... or watch a new one get built from the ashes." She winked, the playful mask sliding back into place. "We’re here for the entertainnt. For the chaos. For whatever cos next."
I leaned back, satisfied with the answer in a way that went beyond re curiosity. Not just a flirt, then. Not just a social butterfly playing gas. A chaos agent. Soone who actively sought out disruption and change because stability was death to spirits like hers.
I could work with that. I could use that.
The ga continued its brutal, rciless course through the minefield of hotels and houses. Money changed hands. Fortunes rose and fell. People’s souls were tested by their responses to fictional bankruptcy.
Team Disaster was the first to go bankrupt, Raphael’s fury at their defeat manifesting as literal sparks from his fingertips—tiny arcs of electricity that danced across his knuckles as Marco physically held him back from flipping the entire board in a rage-fueled tantrum.
"This is bullshit!" Raphael snarled, straining against Marco’s grip. "The ga is rigged! The dice are loaded! This whole thing is—"
"A learning experience," Marco said firmly, his massive arms wrapped around Raphael’s chest in a bear hug. "We learned valuable lessons about teamwork and resource managent."
"I learned I hate Monopoly!" Raphael shouted.
"That too," Marco agreed.
Team Jocks followed soon after, their aggressive strategy of buying everything they landed on without any coherent plan finally catching up with them. They’d spread themselves too thin, owned properties in every color but complete sets in none, and bled money with every passing turn until there was nothing left.
Hikari took their defeat with surprising grace, her smile never faltering even as she counted out their last bills. "NEXT TI, BIGGER VICTORY!" she announced with absolute confidence, already planning their triumphant return. "WE WILL LEARN FROM THIS FAILURE AND CO BACK STRONGER!"
Jai nodded enthusiastically beside her, flexing. "The muscles of our strategy will grow from this experience!"
"That’s not how strategy works," Juan muttered, but they were already high-fiving again.
The final confrontation ca down to three teams: mine, Team Schers, and Team Queens. The board had transford into a minefield of hotels and houses, every roll of the dice a potential economic execution. Landing on the wrong space could wipe out your entire fortune in a single turn.
The tension was thick enough to cut. Every roll mattered. Every decision could be the difference between victory and bankruptcy.
It was Natalia’s turn.
Our eyes t across the board, the air between us crackling with challenge and sothing hotter, sothing more primal that had nothing to do with fake money and everything to do with the unspoken promises we’d made in private. The mory of her body beneath mine, her gasps in my ear, the way she’d surrendered completely—all of it hung in the space between us.
I had hotels on New York Avenue. She needed to roll anything but a twelve to avoid it.
She picked up the dice, her movents slow and deliberate. Her purple eyes never left mine. She shook them once. Twice.
She rolled.
Double sixes.
The dice tumbled across the board, bouncing off properties and cards, and ca to rest with a finality that felt almost scripted by so cosmic storyteller. Her token—the battleship—moved exactly twelve spaces, clicking against the board with each movent until it landed squarely on my hotel-topped property.
The room held its breath.
"That’s $1,100," Juan announced without even opening his eyes, sohow having kept perfect track of the ga despite appearing to be asleep.
Natalia stared at the board, her expression frozen. Then she looked up at , and her face was a masterpiece of conflicting emotions—frustration at losing, grudging admiration for the trap I’d laid, and a burning undercurrent that had nothing to do with board gas and everything to do with the promise in my eyes and the mories we shared.
I held out my hand, palm up, and sang softly, my voice carrying just enough mockery to make it sting: "Just gim my money."
Carn stirred against my shoulder, mumbling sothing that sounded suspiciously like "kiss him, you idiot," before settling back into her drunken slumber, completely unaware of the tension she’d just added to.
Natalia’s purple eyes narrowed dangerously as she counted out her remaining cash. Her pile of bills grew smaller. And smaller.
Not enough.
She was short by $200.
Ga over.
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