The House Always Wins | Kakegurui x Male Reader

Chapter V

Y/N's POV

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At the airport, Y/N felt a momentary doubt. His phone buzzed incessantly, glancing at the screen, he saw a barrage of messages from his mom, each one a plea for him to reconsider, to come back.

Big Mama:

- Y/N, please, let's talk about this. Don't go like this. 😢

- Your father is upset, but we can work this out. Please, son.

- Y/N, answer me. We love you. 💔

But it was a message from his father that caught his eye.

Jack "The Tank.":

-So you're really doing this, huh? Got one month before you chicken out and come back.

-Talk to me with disrespect, fine. But when you're out there and realize you can't handle it, I'll be here.

-Because I know, deep down, you're not ready for the real world. Prove me wrong or come back. Either way, I'm here.

Y/N: Don't need a month. Won't need to come back, Keep your condescending "support." I'm done being the family fuck-up. See you never.

After sending the message, he took a deep breath and, in a definitive gesture, blocked his father's number.

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Standing in the terminal of the airport, Y/N felt intimidation wash over him. The different languages, the sea of faces rushing past, and the sprawling layout of the airport only amplified his sense of isolation. He was just one person out of thousands, each with their own destinations, stories, and lives that were completely detached from his.

Navigating through the check-in process felt surreal to Y/N. Handing over his passport, watching his bag disappear on the conveyor belt—it all seemed like a series of mechanical steps propelling him further from everything familiar. The cost of the ticket, a significant chunk of his savings, was a constant reminder of the commitment he was making. Over $1,000 spent, not just on a piece of paper granting him passage, but on his belief in the need for a fresh start.

He was at the departure gate far earlier than necessary, the hour-long wait ahead feeling more like a sentence than a mere delay. Sitting in the hard, impersonal airport chair, he scrolled aimlessly through his phone, avoiding the string of messages from his family, a of pleas and scoldings he wasn't ready to face.

Y/N's accommodation in Japan was a modest guesthouse he'd found online, located not in Tokyo, where the prices were exorbitant, but in a smaller city within a reasonable train ride's distance. It was no luxury suite, but it promised a roof over his head and a semblance of independence he craved, all for a rate that wouldn't immediately deplete his remaining funds.

Had he packed everything he needed? How would he navigate the train system? What if the guesthouse was a scam? Yet, beneath these doubts lay a stubborn, unyielding desire to prove himself, to show his father, and perhaps more importantly, himself, that he could survive on his own terms.

When the call to board finally came, Y/N stood up. Stepping onto the plane, he found his seat, stowed his carry-on, and buckled up.

As the plane taxied and lifted off, Y/N gazed out the window, watching the city lights fade into the distance, leaving his old life behind.

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