Chapter 12: Chapter 12 – Gambling queen of Andorrea

CHAPTER 12 – GAMBLING QUEEN OF ANDORREA

A few hours had passed. The sun had begun its descent, casting a warm golden hue across the cloudy horizons. From the vantage of the floating lands of Andorrea, the sky painted itself in swirls of pink and orange. The view was breathtaking—one of those rare, serene moments that silenced even the most troubled thoughts.

Lucid and Alice strolled through the town, the wind cool against their skin. Over time, Alice’s mood had gradually brightened. She’d begun to take interest in the little things—flowers in shop windows, shiny trinkets on carts, and the bustle of street vendors. She even started to interact more with the townsfolk, her cheerful voice bringing a sense of normalcy to the surreal place they’d found themselves in.

They’d wandered for hours, asking around, learning what they could. To Lucid’s surprise, many of the townspeople were aware of the corruption threading through the city. But none dared to act.

By evening, they found themselves in a rustic tavern that also doubled as an inn.

Lucid sat at the counter, not drinking but enjoying a warm plate of Andorrean cuisine. The dish was colorful, fragrant—some kind of rich stew over thick bread, accented with spices he couldn’t name.

A young man behind the counter, polishing glasses, glanced at Lucid curiously.

“Hey,” the boy asked, “how do you eat with that mask? The fork just… passes through it like fog.”

Lucid, finishing a bite, set down his fork and looked up.

“Well... that’s a long story.”

The young man smiled faintly, wiping his hands on a rag.

“Then I won’t pry. Sounds complicated.”

Before Lucid could respond, a loud voice echoed across the tavern.

“HEY, ANDREW! We’ll take the usual—and five house specials! Eight jars of rum—two for me!”

Andrew—apparently the barkeep’s name—was already moving, replying mid-motion, “Got it!”

What followed was a blur of efficiency. Andrew spun mugs, filled jars, and balanced plates with absurd ease, loading meals on both arms and delivering them flawlessly. It was as if time slowed just for him.

“THANKS, ANDREW! FAST AS ALWAYS!” one of the laborers bellowed.

“Appreciate it,” Andrew replied, deadpan. “But a tip won’t cover last week’s tab, Gramps.”

The room burst into laughter. The atmosphere warmed. Even Lucid found himself smiling.

Andrew returned to the counter, dropping a heavy coin pouch behind it as if he hadn’t just served half the tavern.

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Lucid leaned in. “You really know how to run this place. Is it yours?”

Andrew scratched the back of his head, a little embarrassed. “Sort of. My mom used to run it, but she’s bedridden now. I took over. I work every day, saving up for her treatment.”

Lucid felt something twist in his chest. He hadn’t expected that answer. This young man—diligent, focused—was carrying the weight of an entire life on his back. It hit close to home.

“That’s... admirable,” Lucid said quietly. “I think your mother would be proud.”

“Eh,” Andrew waved it off with a faint smile. “I just do what I can. Might not be perfect, but I’ve got my reasons.”

Lucid looked down at his plate, then muttered, “Trying hard, huh…”

Trying hard for someone else. It struck him deeper than he liked to admit. After all the only reason he is even trying to find a way back home Is because of alice. Had she not been there he would have given up probably.

Then, realizing he’d never asked, Lucid glanced up.

“I never caught your name.”

Andrew was already pouring himself a glass of water, but he turned and smiled.

“Andrew Osvald.”

“Lucid,” he replied, extending a hand.

They shook.

Andrew tilted his head. “So it’s just you and the green-haired girl, right?”

“Yes we-” he got interrupted by what seemed like a large crowd yelling

Lucid turned.

And froze.

In the middle of the tavern, at a large table, a crowd of rowdy men were cheering—surrounding none other than Alice.

“COME ON, MAN, SHE’S A NATURAL! HER NAME’S—WHAT WAS IT?—ALICE?!”

“DAMN IT, I LOST AGAIN!”

The table was a mess of spilled ale, coin stacks, and scattered cards. Alice sat coolly at the center of the chaos, calmly playing a high-stakes gambling game against a scruffy man twice her age.

“THERE’S NO WAY! YOU’RE CHEATING!” the man barked.

Alice smirked. “Try me.”

She slammed down a final card. The crowd erupted.

“THAT’S THIRTY WINS! SHE’S UNSTOPPABLE!”

“ALICE! ALICE! ALICE!”

They lifted her into the air, chanting her name, throwing her up and down like a local champion. One man shouted over the noise:

“HAIL THE GAMBLING QUEEN OF ANDORREA!”

Lucid stood there, dumbfounded. One moment he was eating stew and having a heart-to-heart with a barkeep. The next? His twelve-year-old companion was hustling drunkards out of their savings.

“What the hell—?! Alice!”

She hopped down from the crowd, skipping over with a massive sack of coin and a triumphant grin. “Here! For you!”

Lucid took the bag. It was heavy. Suspiciously heavy.

“Where did you—?”

“I won it fair and square!” she beamed.

He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. He wanted to lecture her—but he was exhausted. And they were almost out of money before this.

Andrew, wiping down the counter, spoke up, “You’re staying upstairs, right? First room to the left.”

Lucid nodded weakly.

Alice tugged at his sleeve.

“What is it?” he muttered.

“Are you mad…?”

“…Just go to bed.”

Alice pouted. “Hmph. You're no fun.”

She skipped off toward the stairs, humming to herself.

Lucid stared at the sack of coins in his hands and thought:

I am a terrible role model but damn i needed the money…