[BL] Transmigrated as the Villain CEO's Mermaid Secretary

The last of the dessert plates had been cleared away by silent service drones, and the tension could still be felt.

Lilianna had spent the tail end of the meal in light conversation with Helena and Ciel, her voice pitched low enough to exclude the rest of the table. Whatever she told them hadn’t erased the tension, but at least eased it.

Now, as the conversation began to liven up the atmosphere, Bryan began stacking dessert forks absentmindedly.

Then, Lilianna suddenly turned her head.

Her gaze landed on Neville again.

"Oh—" She snapped her fingers as though a thought had just come through. "Neville, you said you love stakes earlier, didn’t you? How about another game?"

The words stilled the barely warmed-up atmosphere, and conversations paused.

There was a collective change in attention, waiting for what was to come.

Neville set down his water glass and asked, "What kind of game?"

"Up to you." Lilianna smiled, tilting her chin. "Your choice.

Hadn’t she had enough? Neville thought.

One humiliation in rock-paper-scissors didn’t seem to be enough to stop this Lilianna. No wonder Grayson had a hard time cutting ties with her.

He looked at her for a moment, contemplating.

Fine, then.

Neville didn’t address Lilianna directly.

Instead, he cast his gaze around the room and asked, "What else is there to play in the game room? Anyone?"

Bryan looked up with interest, "Cards. You up for that?"

"Which one?" Neville asked. "Blackjack or poker?"

Julius straightened, clearly liking Neville’s options.

"We’ve got everything." He said indifferently with eyes bright with interest.

"Perfect." Neville then looked back at Lilianna. "Which one?"

She pressed a finger to her lower lip, "How about blackjack? Seems a lot easier."

Her intentions were clear to everyone; she had chosen the simpler game because she expected Neville to lose.

Lilianna’s smile deepened slightly.

Neville, either oblivious to the condescension or choosing to ignore it, simply nodded.

"Let’s do that." He looked around the room again. "Everyone okay with blackjack?"

A chorus of agreement rippled through the group — some enthusiastic, some merely tolerant.

"Blackjack it is," Bryan confirmed, already pushing back from the table.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

As the group filed in, the game room came into view. The billiard table that dominated the center began to transform under Bryan’s control. Its surface retracted in sections with a quiet hydraulic hiss.

The green felt folded inward as a new surface rose from beneath: dark burgundy velvet, semicircular, with embossed positions for seven players and a dealer’s station at the flat edge.

Trays slotted into place along the cushioned rim. A card shoe materialized in the dealer’s right side.

"Wow," Sarah murmured, watching the transformation with undisguised delight. "I never knew something like this existed."

Bryan was already circling the table, pulling out chairs. The seats were leather, high-backed, and heavier than they looked.

"Right. Who’s dealing?"

Neville looked at Lilianna. "Want to be the dealer?"

It wasn’t a casual offer. Neville was handing her the advantage on a silver platter.

Before Lilianna could respond, Grayson had already moved without a word.

He stepped past two chairs, pulled one out from the table with a smooth, one-handed motion, and angled it toward Neville.

Grayson stood beside it, waiting.

Neville sat down unfazed.

And Lilianna watched the exchange.

Her jaw tightened, but she kept her smile.

’Don’t let it get in your head,’ her inner voice murmured.

"Sure," Lilianna said brightly. "I’ll deal."

She moved to the dealer’s station and stood behind the curved table edge. The overhead light was pooling directly on her hands.

The deck was standard, six decks combined in the shoe. She pulled the cards out to shuffle.

Her fingers began to move.

A standard riffle shuffle came first, crisp and clean, the cards arching into a bridge with satisfying precision. She did a strip shuffle, pulling small packets from the top and bottom and reassembling them with a speed that blurred her hands.

’How about you do a forced shuffle?’ her inner voice suggested, sweet as syrup, tempting her.

Lilianna’s eyes glinted.

The forced shuffle was a technique that existed in the grey area between impressive and illegal.

In casual play, it was a party trick. But in professional gambling, it was grounds for arrest.

In this kind of private game among friends, it was the kind of thing you only attempted if you were very confident no one would catch you.

And Lilianna was very confident about this.

Her shuffle changed.

To the untrained eye, it looked like she was showing off.

To someone who knew what they were watching, it looked like she was cooking something.

"Damn," Sarah said, leaning forward. "When did you learn to do that?"

Lilianna smiled without looking up. "People got to have a little hobby or two."

Bryan raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment on that.

Instead, he asked everyone, "Who’s playing?"

Helena settled into one of the sofas positioned against the wall, well away from the table.

She crossed her legs and raised her glass. "I’ll just watch."

Colonel Vane sat on the seat near Helena and shook his head.

"I can’t. Active officer." He said it in a regretful but non-negotiable tone.

From across the room, Ciel let out a groan and fake cried. "Oh, come on."

"Killjoy," he said flatly, staring at Colonel Vane.

Colonel Vane, unperturbed. "We all have our own priorities to consider."

Ciel’s face went red, and he angrily said, "And I don’t?"

Ciel, despite his face and height, was still a Colonel with real achievements to back it up. Though it wasn’t intended to be an insult, he made it clear that he would take it as one.

Thiago got in between them and placed a hand on Ciel’s shoulder with a firm grip. He turned to Pete, who had been tending to Chronos.

"Pete," Thiago called and asked. "You in?"

Pete was a dean of the Imperial Research Institute, also an active public officer. He looked at Thiago, then saw Ciel’s expectant face next to him and winced.

"Sorry," Pete said with an apologetic expression. "I’ll sit this one out."