Gran Tesoro glimmered under its eternal lights, the golden city alive with laughter, music, and the constant shuffle of tourists throwing their fortunes at fate. But somewhere deep inside the towering palace, Tanaka sat at his post, bored out of his mind.

He yawned—wide and exaggerated—as he slumped in his seat, the surveillance crystals flickering with the same old scenes: gamblers losing money, dancers spinning, and Tesoro laughing in his golden throne room.

“…Tch. Nothing ever changes,” Tanaka muttered, fiddling with his bowtie. “What’s the point of being security if no one even tries to break the rules anymore?”

With a slight pout, he shuffled his short legs down the hallway and approached Tesoro, who was lazily lounging on his golden throne, a glass of wine in hand and Baccarat standing loyally beside him.

“Tesoro-sama,” Tanaka said with a deep bow, “if it pleases you… might I take a short walk around the city? Just to stretch my legs. I promise to report anything suspicious.”

Tesoro raised a brow, amused by the request. “Hmph. You bored, Tanaka?”

“I believe my mental sharpness will dull if I remain stationary,” Tanaka replied with a sly grin.

Tesoro chuckled. “Fine, fine. But don’t cause a scene. Remember—you represent me out there.”

Tanaka saluted dramatically. “Understood!”

And with that, he vanished into the floor—his body slipping through the gold tiles as he phased out of the palace and into the streets of Gran Tesoro.

Now free to roam, Tanaka appeared behind a blackjack table, startling a few gamblers. He brushed himself off and strolled onward, hands behind his back, observing tourists being duped, dealers dealing, and the ever-turning gears of Tesoro’s golden empire.