"It's bright."
Those two words slipped from Arthur's lips as he took in his surroundings—the flashing lights, the ostentatiously dressed people moving about, and the reflections dancing across countless glasses and silverware.
'I'm pretty sure I fell asleep on Aramis.'
Indeed, Arthur had returned to Aramis, gone straight to his usual room in Militopolis, collapsed onto his bed, and passed out from sheer mental exhaustion.
Yet, when he opened his eyes, he found himself standing in the middle of this dazzling place.
Glancing around at the gaming tables and the rows of slot machines lining the balcony, he quickly inferred that he was inside a casino.
The real question was—how did he get here?
"Is this even reality?"
[That depends on what you believe 'Reality' is.]
A voice answered his quiet mutter, and Arthur spun around, his gaze locking onto a man seated at a poker table, casually playing a game with several others.
