Chapter 34 Card Players
The most bustling open-air restaurant in Immortal Fortress, "Blue Vulture Courtyard".
Draven, who had been accompanying Alice through the Immortal Fortress for several days in a row, was enjoying a rare leisurely afternoon.
Draven slumped in an exquisite wicker chair like a sage, sunglasses obscuring half his face but unable to hide his contented expression. At his feet lay a pile of luxurious shopping bags—the latest silk gowns, the newest mechanical toys from Piltover, whimsical trinkets from Shurima, and a large box of freshly bought cream puffs that smelled sickeningly sweet.
He had just bought Alice an ice cream cone bigger than her face, covered in gold leaf and honey, when the silly girl, holding it up, was drawn to the crystal display window next door that automatically changed colors, and rode her newly bought chocobo inside to take a look.
Draven was enjoying his leisure time. He crossed his legs, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. The sun was shining brightly, and a beautiful woman was beside him—though temporarily absent. Life couldn't be more blissful. He even began to habitually scan his surroundings with a hunter's scrutiny and… well, an old habit of appreciation.
"Oh, isn't this our big star Draven? Long time no see~" Draven looked up and saw a noblewoman in a low-cut, fitted long dress standing by the table, her face half-covered by a lace folding fan, her eyes sizing him up in an ambiguous way.
She was Mrs. Farrell, the wife of a high-ranking military officer, with whom she had several intimate conversations over a few wild nights.
Almost by muscle memory, Draven instantly put on that nonchalant, slightly roguish smile and replied in a glib tone, "Mrs. Farrell! You've become more and more charming in just a few days! This dress, tsk, it's almost beneath your radiance."
The lady chuckled softly and gently tapped him with her lace folding fan: "Why haven't you come to see me for so long? My husband has been frequently away on duty lately..." She winked meaningfully, "He just happens to be away from home tonight."
Draven's smile froze instantly.
Hold!
An alarm bell rang in his mind, and a fine layer of cold sweat instantly broke out on his forehead. That's right, Mrs. Farrell… one of his many former "card-playing buddies." Before Alice returned, his life motto was "live for the moment, accept whatever comes your way." He basically took any woman with a bit of beauty who approached him, from noblewomen to prostitutes, from aristocratic ladies to tavern waitresses; his card-playing buddies spanned every social class in the Immortal Fortress.
A noblewoman like Madame Farrell, whose husband is not around and who cannot bear loneliness, is one of his favorite types—few troubles, good at sex.
Damn it! I almost fell into that trap again, just like I always do! He's taken now!
Draven instinctively wanted to look into the shop. Damn it, I hope Alice doesn't come out at this time!
Draven immediately sat up straight, his nonchalant expression magically transforming into a serious, solemn, and even somewhat sorrowful look, so quickly that Mrs. Farrell was taken aback.
"Mrs. Farrell, please have some self-respect. Between us... it's over."
The wealthy woman's smile froze on her face: "It's over? What do you mean?"
"It means... break up," Draven said, forcing a smile, his eyes darting around, searching for a convenient excuse. Before, he had only thought this woman was charming and alluring, but now he suddenly recalled some less pleasant details clearly.
"Why?!" Mrs. Farrell's voice rose a little, drawing sidelong glances from several other tables of guests.
“Because…” Draven lowered his voice with a pained expression, “you snore at night. It’s so loud, like a battering ram, I just… can’t stand it.”
Farrell's face went from white to red, then from red to pale. She stared intently at Draven, her chest heaving violently, her knuckles white as she gripped the fan.
"Draven! You bastard!" Mrs. Farrell trembled with rage, her voice shrill. "You just wait!"
After saying that, she walked away, clicking away in her high heels.
Just as Draven breathed a sigh of relief, thinking he had escaped a disaster, Mrs. Farrell made a surprise attack. She grabbed the half-finished, expensive glass of liquor from Draven's table, flicked her wrist, and splashed it all over his face before turning and leaving.
The deep amber liquid flowed down Draven's proud, thick black hair, smearing his face and staining his expensive shirt.
Draven, his face covered in alcohol, awkwardly wiped it. He heard a few suppressed "pffts" around him. Looking up, he saw several tables of diners nearby pretending to admire the scenery or eat, but their shoulders were suspiciously twitching violently; they were clearly struggling to hold back their laughter. Some were even secretly giving him a thumbs-up, whether out of "admiration" for his courage or his bad luck, it was unclear.
Draven: "..." He felt he had never been so humiliated in his life.
Draven looked utterly dejected, wanting nothing more than to dry himself off and regain some semblance of human appearance before Alice came out.
However, the disaster had only just begun.
Before he could catch his breath, another graceful figure walked over.
"Lord Draven~~" This time it was a young noblewoman, her voice sickeningly sweet, "It's been so long since I've seen you at the theater. What have you been up to lately? My father is going to Dalmour for an inspection tomorrow..."
Draven's heart skipped a beat. This was the Bertus family's daughter, known for her large breasts and lack of intelligence; they had once had an "artistic exchange" in an opera box.
Draven felt a chill run down his spine and quickly interrupted her: "Mina! Stop! We're over! Don't come looking for me again!"
The noblewoman's sweet smile froze instantly, and she corrected herself, looking aggrieved: "My name is Mia."
"...Mia! Yes, it's over!"
"Why?!" Miss Mia stared wide-eyed at her innocent expression.
Draven looked at her innocent face and blurted out, "Because you're so stupid!"
Miss Mia's face instantly turned bright red: "Where am I stupid? I'm very smart!"
Draven: "Then let me test you, where is the capital of Demacia?"
“Of course it’s in Demacia!” she said matter-of-factly.
"...What is Demacia??" Draven tried to prompt.
“The…capital?” she repeated uncertainly.
"no……"
Chengdu?
“…It’s Xiongdu!” Draven almost shouted.
"I...I'm an outstanding graduate of a prestigious academy!" Miss Mia retorted sharply, her voice filled with shame and indignation. "You're the stupid one! Then let me ask you..."
"Enough! That's stupid, let's break up!" Draven waved his hand, interrupting the spellcasting.
"You...you...you uncouth barbarian!" she screamed, suddenly raising her hand—
"Smack!"
A resounding slap landed squarely on Draven's left cheek, so hard it nearly knocked him off his chair! His left cheek swelled up visibly, leaving a clear handprint.
Miss Mia's eyes reddened, she stomped her foot angrily, covered her face, and ran away crying.
Draven also covered his face; his head was buzzing.
The snickers around them had turned into loud laughter, and some people even started betting quietly on who would be next.
Sure enough, before Draven could catch his breath, a third woman was already standing in front of him—a hot redhead in daring leather armor, clearly not someone to be trifled with. This was the vice-captain of the "White Whisper" mercenary group; they had sparred after a victory celebration once.
“Draven,” the mercenary’s voice was low and dangerous, “I heard you’ve broken off all relationships with women?”
“Vera…” Draven’s voice was almost choked with tears, “This…we…”
"Give me a reason." The mercenary crossed her arms, her muscular arms looking like they could easily snap his neck.
Draven's brain raced, and he finally managed to come up with an excuse: "You...you love garlic and have bad breath!" As soon as he said that, he knew he was doomed.
"I...have...bad...breath?" The mercenary's face instantly darkened to a point where it could drip water. She said, enunciating each word clearly, "You think you can just dump me with some random excuse after you're bored with me? No way!!"
She immediately grabbed Draven by the collar, and with her other hand, she punched him twice in the eye sockets, then ripped it open!
"Sizzle—"
Draven's flashy, intricately embroidered leather armor jacket ripped open with a crack, a large piece torn off, revealing his shirt underneath. Vera, still furious, scratched and clawed, cursing under her breath, before storming off in a huff.
After the mercenary left, Draven's shirt was reduced to a few tattered pieces that barely clung to his body, with buttons popping off everywhere.
However, as if by prior arrangement, the next group of players began to line up and take their turn—
Fourth: The unrestrained tavern owner.
"Draven! My new brew..."
"Let's break up! You have body odor! It smells like a runaway sewer in Zuan!"
The proprietress froze for a second, then flew into a rage! She grabbed a half-full beer barrel from the next table and drenched him and his chair, then slammed the heavy barrel down on him.
Fifth place: The rebellious tattoo artist girl.
"Brother Draven..."
"That's it! You have a scar on your butt! It's really unsightly!"
The girl screamed and pounced on him like a wildcat, leaving symmetrical bloody marks on his right cheek with her fingernails. Then she stomped on his foot hard and ran away in tears.
Sixth: A noble widow known for her "technique".
"Honey……"
"You're nowhere to be found! Your technique is terrible! You're no different from a dead fish!"
The widow was trembling with rage. She slammed her pearl handbag into his face, leaving a long red mark on his forehead from the metal clasp. Then she threw her fan at him and left gracefully.
...
Just as Draven was in a daze, almost reflexively yelling "Break up" at every approaching figure, a slightly timid male voice rang out:
"Mr. Draven..."
"Break up!" Draven roared, his eyes vacant and his head drooping.
An uproar erupted instantly!
"By the Wolf Spirit! Even men?!"
"Truly... a master of disguise!"
Draven snapped back to reality, and upon seeing the male waiter in front of him holding the ice bucket, his face flushed, he erupted in fury: "I like women! Who the hell are you?!"
"I...I just wanted to ask if you would like some ice..." The waiter stammered, his face turning even redder.
"Do I look like I need ice?!" Draven exclaimed, pointing to his "abstract" outfit, a mixture of alcohol, food, and blood. "And what's with the blushing?! ...Fine, just put the whole bucket down and get out of here!!"
----------------------------------
When Alice finally emerged from the toy store, clutching the enormous, iridescent crystal bubble, this was the scene that greeted her:
Draven slumped in the messy chair, his left cheek swollen high with at least three or four large handprints and countless nail scratches, his right cheek also had several scratches, and there was a bump on his forehead, which he was applying with an ice pack.
His face and body were completely wet, with a mixture of alcohol, soup, cream, beer and other unidentified liquids dripping down.
His hair was covered in all sorts of sticky stuff, and his carefully styled hair completely fell apart, hanging down on his head and face like seaweed.
His clothes were torn to shreds, all the buttons popped off, and the fabric was reduced to tattered rags hanging on his body, revealing his equally stained undergarments and his muscular but now bruised and purple muscles.
Holding the shimmering bubbles, she stood before the mess, her clear red eyes first showing surprise, then slowly filling with heartache. She urged the chocobo around the stains on the ground and walked to him.
Draven looked up and met her eyes, all the jokes he had prepared stuck in his throat.
Alice put down her baby's bubbles, took a clean handkerchief from her pocket, and gently and carefully wiped away the cream stains on his face—stains left by who-knows-which woman. Then, she stood on tiptoe and, just like when she was a child, carefully blew on his swollen cheeks, one breath at a time.
"Whoosh—whoosh—the pain flies away."
After doing all this, she stretched out her arms and hugged his equally disheveled body beneath his tattered clothes tightly. She pressed her face against the hollow of his still-clean neck and said in a soft, sweet voice, carrying the scent of candy:
"Don't be afraid, Xiao De. Let's go home."
Draven looked at the woman before him, so genuinely caring for him, and then thought of the others from earlier. Suddenly, he hugged her tightly, buried his face in her soft chest, and choked out in a hoarse voice:
"My Alice is still the best..."
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
