The moment the officials returned from their little huddle, they had smiles plastered across their faces—too forced, too polished.
"We'd like to offer you and Miss Yelena a royal dinner, Mister Xavier," one of them said. "And of course, full VVIP status—permanent and cross-network. You'll have top-tier access to every casino tied to our intergalactic network. No waiting lists. No fees. Ever."
Xavier didn't even look up from his glass.
He tilted it, watching the amber liquid swirl like it owed him rent.
Then he spoke—calm, sharp.
"Since I already have the Floor Owner's Badge now, I think that kind of privilege is automatic."
The smiles cracked a little.
Another official cleared his throat. "About that. The… stake amount you mentioned earlier. Five percent is—well, that's quite a lot."
"It's accurate," Xavier replied instantly. "That's what I'm asking. And I want the official papers before I leave this tower."
"…We can offer 0.1%. That's still billions in equity. It's—"
