After finishing the cake, it was already around five o'clock—time for the day students to start heading home.
This academy, in its dedication to maximizing gambling opportunities, ended classes at three in the afternoon, granting students ample time for "recreational" activities.
After playing two rounds with Aikabu Kokoro and sharing cake, it was time for Naoki to leave.
Yes, even though Naoki's background in this life was modest, her parents had long divorced and each remarried. They only wired her a fixed monthly allowance and tuition payments. While they never missed a transfer, they never gave more, nor did they ever bother to check in on her.
Perhaps due to her soul's prior existence, Naoki was a detached person. She didn't feel sad—if anything, she found the absence of interference peaceful. A bit lonely, sure, but not necessarily bad.
She lived alone in the old house her parents had left her in the rundown part of town. Perhaps she should be grateful she at least had a roof over her head.
On the way home, the savory aroma of fried chicken filled the air. She glanced at a stall advertising karaage for 700 yen and hesitated. After a moment's struggle, she gave in to the craving.
Life at the academy was stressful enough. She might as well allow herself small pleasures.
She bought a portion of fried chicken, but before she could even take a bite, a motorcycle shot past her like a bullet. She barely dodged in time before a second one came roaring from behind. She couldn't avoid it and stumbled backward onto the pavement—her precious fried chicken scattering across the ground.
Seeing her meal ruined before even a single bite, Naoki was devastated. Even her normally mild tone sharpened into a shriek as she yelled at the vanishing rider:
"Speeding on a street this narrow? Do you have a death wish?!"
What rotten luck.
Fuming, Naoki gathered the fallen chicken and threw it into a trash can, continuing home with clenched fists.
She hated thugs like that.
Unfortunately, things were about to get worse.
When she arrived at her house, she saw a gang of rough-looking men gathered at the front gate—postures slouched, faces cocky, all in their twenties or thirties with thick arms and streetwise smirks.
Her belongings—desk, backpack, miscellaneous items—had been thrown out and piled high in the yard.
As she walked up, the man in front, hair slicked back in a pompadour, gave her a smug grin.
"You must be Naoki Utsugi. Your parents owed our company a ton of money. They skipped town without paying, so we're repossessing their assets to cover the debt."
As he spoke, he held out an official-looking, stamped document—legal proof of the repossession.
This time, Naoki was truly speechless.
Just—why? How could her parents, who were practically strangers to her, have ended up running off with debt?
She slumped at the doorstep, struggling to collect herself. If the system hadn't activated, she'd be in real trouble right now—no money, no home.
Thankfully, she still had the 1 million yen from the loot box. She could rent a place for now. Or maybe stay in the academy dorms?
But the dorm fees at Hyakkaou Academy were outrageous. It'd be cheaper to find a place outside.
As she was weighing her options, the pompadour man cleared his throat and said, "Look, kid, this is just our job, alright? But I can tell you don't really have anywhere to go now."
"If you need money, I could point you toward a way to make some."
Before he could finish, a motorcycle pulled up to the gate. Naoki looked up and immediately recognized the culprit who'd knocked the chicken out of her hand earlier.
But she didn't have the energy to be mad over something so minor now.
The rider sneered, taking off her helmet and stepping off the bike. Her short hair, lip and ear piercings, and overall delinquent style made her look fierce, and her bangs nearly reached her eyes.
"Wow. Your house is being repossessed? That's rough. No place to stay, huh?"
"Hey, you're not actually buying that guy's money-making pitch, are you? No offense, but with your circumstances, your best bet for cash is probably serving old women."
The mocking tone dripped with sarcasm, yet the subtext suggested something more complicated.
Naoki glanced at the girl—Kirari Momobami, according to the shimmering "Targetable" label hovering beside her.
She'd meant to snap back, but seeing that icon, she bit her tongue.
Kirari Momobami was a key character—one that had to be captured.
She was absurdly rich and had a tendency to throw money around like it meant nothing.
So, perhaps today wasn't so unlucky after all. In a place like Hyakkaou Academy, someone like Kirari would normally be far beyond her reach.
Pompadour Man frowned at Kirari's interjection. "Mind your own business!"
"I am minding my business," she replied with an infuriating grin. "Just enjoying the show. Please, carry on."
She really had a punchable face.
Naoki: …
Pompadour Man wanted to chase her off, but when he saw the four biker girls behind her—clearly a gang—he decided against it.
Naoki checked Kirari's favorability on the system panel: still a solid zero. Yep, she was just here for the spectacle.
"So, what's this way to make money you mentioned?" Naoki asked.
Pompadour Man paused before answering, "I'll be straight with you. People like you—with no education and no skills—only have two options if you want fast cash."
"One: like she said, serve older women. With your looks, you could make maybe 10 or 20 thousand yen a night, more if you're lucky."
Honest, at least.
"Two: gambling. But not just any gambling."
He lowered his voice, almost theatrically.
"Our boss loves watching high-stakes games. A lot of people owe him money. If they win, their debts are cleared in full."
"But I highly advise against it. These are life-or-death bets. Best-case scenario, you lose a limb. Worst case? You die. Only those truly desperate go in."
Kirari lit up.
"There's really gambling like that?! I want in!"
Pompadour Man eyed her with suspicion. This girl didn't seem… stable.
"You don't owe us anything, so you're not eligible."
Naoki, however, caught the subtext in his words. Though he said he didn't recommend it, he was baiting her into accepting.
One night of servitude would net her 10,000 yen. Who knew how long it'd take to claw her way back from that? But in one gamble—just one—she could erase all the debt.
If she were truly desperate, the temptation would be impossible to resist.
But she wasn't that desperate. She still had her million yen.
Still…
Seeing how excited Kirari was, it'd be a waste not to build favorability here.
"How about this," Kirari grinned. "If you enter the game, I'll give you one million yen regardless of whether you win or lose. Even if you lose a hand or something, that's not so bad, right?"
You really are loaded, huh?
Naoki checked her system. She had two experience points left—just enough to draw cards. If she couldn't pull something good, she'd back out. She wasn't about to gamble her life blindly.
Click—draw card.
System: Congratulations, you've drawn a Special Ability Card: "X-Ray Vision." Use this to gain the ability to see through objects during your next game.
Nice. A powerful gambling card. But would it work in a death game?
Draw again.
System: Congratulations, you've drawn a Special Ability Card: "Failsafe." Your earnings in the next gamble may fluctuate wildly, but the final outcome will never leave you in debt. (Guaranteed minimum: wagered amount.)
Naoki's pupils dilated slightly.
At first glance, "Failsafe" didn't seem particularly strong. But in a death game? It was a god-tier card.
"I can't believe you actually agreed."
Naoki sat on the back of Kirari's motorcycle, still wondering how things had escalated to this point.
"You said you'd pay me either way, right? Besides, I'm broke. Even if I lose a hand or two, I can still get by."
Kirari laughed heartily. "Exactly. They can reattach a hand within six hours—no problem."
To Kirari, someone willing to risk their life for money wasn't disgusting—they were interesting. It wasn't about greed. It was about guts.
And that was rare.
System: Kirari Momobami's favorability increased by 5.
Naoki covertly opened her profile and clenched her jaw at what she saw.
Kirari Momobami
Gambling Aptitude: Grade A
Special Trait: "One in Nine Lives" – When participating in games involving bodily harm or death, her luck increases dramatically, granting her a win rate of over 90%.
In this world of compulsive gambling, some individuals possessed powers invisible to the outside world.
Kirari's trait made her the ultimate death-gambler—even if she didn't realize it herself.
No wonder she casually pointed guns at people and still lived.
Naoki arrived at the "gambling site" Pompadour Man had mentioned—an abandoned warehouse cloaked in shadows.
A group of men in black confirmed her identity and eyed Kirari with suspicion.
"Who's this? Unauthorized spectators are forbidden."
Pompadour Man hurried over, plastering on a smile. "Boss said she's allowed. This is the daughter of the Momobami family. We didn't recognize her earlier—please don't take offense."
Kirari was escorted to the VIP section. Naoki, meanwhile, was led through the main entrance.
The warehouse was vast and dark. Naoki was seated at a table under a spotlight. Her left hand was inserted into a metal contraption resembling a finger guillotine. Her wrist and arm were secured with iron cuffs.
Staring at the thing—clearly some sort of torture device—Naoki had a bad feeling about what the game would be.
This is messed up.
If not for the Failsafe Card, she'd have noped out of here instantly.
Even now, her nerves were fraying.
Under dim lighting, she could barely make out the shape of her opponent—a large man, visibly agitated.
He jerked against his restraints.
"What the hell is this?! What are you doing?!"
A voice distorted through a speaker answered coldly:
"You agreed to participate. There's no backing out now."
"Tonight's game is simple: Blackjack. Everyone knows the rules. But the stakes aren't chips—they're fingers. Lose a round, lose a finger. You each have five. Whoever loses all five first… loses the game."
Naoki swore internally.
What kind of twisted person comes up with this?
Even if you win, you might still be down a couple fingers. The only way to get out unscathed is to win five times in a row.
Which was basically impossible.