I Was Transmigrated As An Extraordinary Extra-Chapter 307

An hour later, I finally arrived at my destination.

The Fool’s Fortune

The largest gambling house in town—and judging by the noise leaking out of it, also the loudest mistake anyone could make with their life savings.

Getting here had been a journey on its own. I’d asked a few NPCs for directions, and every single one of them had lied with the confidence of a seasoned scammer. One pointed left when the place was clearly right. Another told me it was "just past the river" when there wasn’t a river anywhere within a mile. One old man even charged me ten GP just to confidently send me in the wrong direction.

So I did the only logical thing.

I went the exact opposite of everything they said.

And here I was.

I pushed the door open.

The noise hit me like a slap.

The gambling house was loud—painfully loud. Coins clinked, cards slapped against tables, chairs scraped across the floor, and voices overlapped in pure chaos.

I crinkled my nose in disgust as the smell assaulted me next. Cigar smoke, cheap booze, sweat, and desperation all marinated together into something foul enough to qualify as a biological weapon.

Sure, the Nightjars smoked too, but at least they had the decency to do it outside or somewhere ventilated. This place felt like it was trying to pickle its patrons alive.

"ROYAL FLUSH!"

"Motherf— you cheated! AGAIN!"

"LUCKY NINE!"

"BINGO!"

"HEY, FUCK OFF!"

"FULL HOUSE!"

"WHY IS ONE OF YOUR CARDS MISSING?!"

"GET OUT!"

"PAY UP! CASH OR YOUR HAND?!"

Charming.

I slipped further inside, keeping my head down. Once I was sure I wasn’t being actively stared at, I pulled out Jester’s Mask and placed it over my face. I didn’t activate it—no need to draw unnecessary attention—but the disguise alone was enough.

I scanned the room. Dice tables crowded one side, card tables dominated the center, and some questionable wheel-based games sat near the walls. House enforcers leaned casually against pillars, pretending they weren’t watching everything.

I chose an empty poker table and sat down.

I didn’t wait long.

Predators always notice lone prey.

A man with a crooked grin and a half-burnt cigar dangling from his lips approached me, smoke curling around his face. He leaned against the table like he owned it.

"Are you new here?" he asked, dragging a chair out.

I nodded.

His eyes flicked to the mask. "What’s with the mask?" He leaned closer. "You a clown?"

I nodded again.

His grin widened. "Ohhh. Or maybe you’re a mime." He laughed to himself. "Can’t talk, huh?"

I raised both hands and made an exaggerated gesture that vaguely translated to ’I don’t know what you’re talking about and neither do you.’

That seemed to amuse him greatly.

"Dealer!" he called out. "We got fresh meat."

A dealer arrived—a thin man with sharp eyes and fingers that moved too smoothly. He glanced at me, then at the growing crowd gathering around the table.

Soon enough, more people joined. All of them had the same look in their eyes: sharp, greedy, confident. The look of people who believed luck was a skill they personally owned.

Scammers. Every last one of them.

Perfect.

The game began.

First round: decent hand. I folded early, letting them think I was cautious.

Second round: strong hand. I bet small. Won.

Third round: absurdly strong hand. I raised just enough to bait them.

They laughed.

"Beginner’s confidence," one scoffed.

"Watch this kid lose everything," another said.

Five minutes later, their chips were sliding toward me.

Their laughter slowly died.

Round after round, my pile grew.

They tried to intimidate me. Loud betting. Slamming chips. Whispering insults meant for me to overhear. One of them even leaned close enough that I could smell his breath.

I ignored all of it.

I don’t know if what I was doing counted as cheating. I wasn’t using skills, tools, or sleight of hand. I wasn’t peeking or switching cards.

I simply relied on luck.

If this was cheating, then fine.

They’d been cheating people all night.

I was just collecting interest.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Two hours.

It took me two whole hours to completely empty the pockets of every NPC foolish enough to sit at my table.

At first, they laughed it off. Then they frowned. Then they started sweating. And finally, they started panicking.

"This is bullshit!"

"You’re cheating!"

"There’s no way you keep pulling hands like that!"

One of them slammed the table so hard the chips jumped. Another stood up, chair screeching loudly against the floor as his hand went to the dagger at his waist.

I didn’t even move.

I simply lifted my head and let a sliver of my Aura leak out.

The air around me thickened, like an invisible hand wrapping around their throats. The man froze mid-motion, sweat instantly beading down his temple. His hand trembled before slowly retreating from his weapon.

"Tch..." he clicked his tongue, eyes darting away. "Not worth it."

One by one, they backed off.

Some cursed under their breath. Some spat on the floor. Some didn’t even dare look at me as they left the table quietly, shoulders stiff, pride shattered.

By the end of it, my table was a graveyard of empty chip trays.

I leaned back slightly and exhaled, finally allowing myself to relax.

That’s when I noticed them.

Five people were watching me.

They stood at different corners of the gambling hall—near pillars, beside the bar, by the stairway—eyes locked onto me. Their gazes weren’t filled with rage like the scammers. These must be the people who worked for the house.

’So the dogs finally noticed,’ I thought. ’Time to leave,’

I looked around the table, the scammers still seated with me looked miserable.

One was grinding his teeth so hard I could hear it over the noise. Another kept rubbing his temples, mumbling about probability and cursed hands. The smoker from earlier had long since crushed out his cigarette, his hands trembling as he stared at the nearly empty stack of chips in front of him.

I raised my hand and gestured vaguely, tapping my stomach and pointing toward the back hallway.

Bathroom.

"Make it quick," one of them grumbled.

I nodded obediently and stood up.

As I turned, I "accidentally" bumped into another gambler walking past my table.

"Oh—!"

The tray of drinks I’d ordered earlier tipped over dramatically, glasses crashing and shattering as liquor spilled everywhere—over the table, the chips, the floor, and several very unfortunate people.

"What the hell—?!"

"Watch where you’re going!"

"Hey! That’s my coat!"

"Are you blind?!"

"My cards—!"

The gambling house erupted instantly.

Chairs screeched backward. Someone shoved someone else. Accusations flew faster than fists, and within seconds, the shouting spread to nearby tables. Dealers yelled for order. Guards started moving in. Someone accused the house of rigging the cards. Someone else accused the dealer. Another accused everyone.

Perfect.

While all eyes were locked on the sudden riot, I swept my earnings into my inventory in one smooth motion. Chips, tokens, notes—everything disappeared beneath my cloak in seconds.

I turned away from the table, slipped my mask off mid-step, and melted into the crowd like I had never been there at all.

By the time the first punch was thrown, I was already standing in front of the currency exchange booth.

The attendant looked up, bored—then froze when he saw the sheer volume of chips I placed on the counter.

His expression went from indifference to disbelief in a heartbeat.

"25,500 chips confirmed," he said after a quick count, his fingers suddenly much more careful. "Please wait for a minute."

He disappeared behind the booth, and a moment later slid a thick stack of GP tickets across the counter.

I took them and fed them straight into my inventory.

And then—

Almost twenty thousand GP tickets vanished.

I stared at the empty confirmation window for half a second before clicking my tongue.

"...Seriously?"

Even if he was a scammer, wasn’t this a bit too blatant?

"Hey," I called out, my voice calm, almost lazy.

The employee looked up.

And froze.

I let my Aura fully leak out. The air behind me warped and the faint silhouette of Tigara’s massive form loomed at my back. Predatory intent so thick it felt like the room itself was being strangled.

"I—uh—th-there must be a mistake," he stammered, sweat instantly soaking through his collar. His hands shook as he grabbed the counter, knuckles turning white. "L-let me check if I—I gave you the correct amount..."

His breathing became shallow, panicked, as if the very idea of refusing me was crushing his lungs.

"One more mistake," I said quietly, leaning closer, "and you’ll end up over there choking."

I nodded slightly toward the dark corner behind the booth, where the shadows pooled unnaturally.

The employee nodded frantically, almost bowing as he scrambled to reprocess the exchange. His fingers flew across the interface, eyes darting between the screen and me, terrified I might lose patience.

After what felt like an eternity—but was probably only a few seconds—he slid another stack of tickets toward me.

"...C-corrected," he said hoarsely. "With... with an additional 500 GP. F-for the inconvenience."

I glanced at the total. Accurate this time.

Satisfied, I pulled back and withdrew my Aura.

The oppressive presence vanished instantly. The air lightened. The employee slumped against the booth, gasping like he’d just survived drowning.

I didn’t spare him another glance.

I placed all my earnings into my inventory and walked out of The Fool’s Fortune without looking back.