Celestia, with a high-stakes card game.

At Hope's Peak University, there isn't exactly a "hierarchy" of students to challenge. Each one is known to be exceptional in their fields, meaning theoretically, it doesn't matter who you pick to go after. Of course, you know better than that-- nothing worth doing should be left to random chance. The smartest option is to go after one domino that can help tip the others. Does that mean a class president? A popular student? Maybe a teacher?

No, the one you need is someone like-minded: the Ultimate Gambler, Cecilia Ludenberg. It might seem like an odd choice, but you'd observed her just long enough to realize that her mind worked quite the same as your own. You'd be surprised if her intentions weren't at least somewhat parallel: she was the type who reveled in her victory just as much as the other person's loss. That probably meant she had her own dominos in place all over the school already and ingenious ideas for how to bend others to her will. Wouldn't it be worth your time to appropriate some of that intelligence for yourself? "Work smart, not hard," they say.

Cecilia is known to run a university-approved games club, which is really more like a gambling den. You'd looked into it enough to know it was the type of place where the house always wins-- big prizes were dangled in front of people's faces to keep them playing, but for most people, it was a matter of pride. They needed to prove they could overcome the odds.

"Ha, odds," you laugh to yourself ruefully while checking your hair, reflected in the mirrored glass of one of the school's windows as you approach the club room after school. "If this woman is really the Ultimate Gambler, then I imagine odds are the last thing she's worried about. Games of luck aren't meant for talented people. The odds can, however, be fixed. I'm sure that's her true skill," you speak to yourself, checking your collar once more and adjusting its tilt. Speaking to yourself is a bad habit of yours, one cultivated by a long time of hanging around people whose opinions are nothing more than what you've drilled into their heads. They don't make for the best conversation partners.

Convinced that you're looking your best, you grab the handle and push open the door slowly, announcing yourself to the room.

It looks like an awful lot of students haven't learned their lesson yet: the girl you're looking for is sitting at the head of a table opposite many other students, who are all exchanging chips and flinging cards in hope of building up a stack that has any chance of betting properly against Cecilia's massive winnings. For her part, the girl is sitting with a small smile on her face and her hands folded prettily beneath the point of her chin, seeming perfectly content to watch the others with her large, red eyes, occasionally fluttering her long eye-lashes. She's dolled up in gothic fashion with a frilled black dress and amazing, massive ponytails, coiled tightly into perfect curls. Her skin is either extremely pale or extremely powdered... possibly a mixture of both. Everything from her painted black nails to her even expression seems perfectly curated and on-point.

You can't help but admire her as she lords over the others with such a pristine appearance. If anyone is worthy of being a 'girlfriend,' she might be the one. Could this be love at first sight?

No. Love isn't something you've ever felt. All you're feeling right now is desire. You don't want to make her into your girlfriend or partner-- rather, this slender, pale girl will become a living doll for you.

Her eyes seem to flash as she focuses on you and her smile, perfectly framed beneath by her thin fingers and to the sides by her braids, widens. "Welcome! I spy a new face gracing my humble club room. Have you come to gamble? Please say yes, as I am afraid I'm a bit busy with club activities right now. I couldn't spare even a second for a coward who's afraid to join us at the table," she chuckles, moving one hand up to her mouth as if covering it politely will veil the overbearing welcome she just gave.

"Ha ha! Luckily for you, that's exactly why I'm here. Call me Tomo-- Tomo Tominaga. You must be Celestia Ludenberg," you observe, stepping forward and rolling up your cuffs while taking a spot close to her at the table. The guy across from you, a huge bastard with his uniform jacket open, bulging muscles, and the craziest orange pompadour haircut you've ever, lowers his eyebrows angrily as you take your seat. You don't bother introducing yourself to him, which just pisses him off worse. That is okay-- he'll fall in line soon enough. "I'm very interested in what you all are doing here. Is it okay if I join right in?"

"Yes, I see my reputation precedes me! I am, indeed, Celestia. You, however, are not a man of any reputation-- not yet," she giggles, seeming to realize that would annoy you a bit. "It does take courage to gamble, but that isn't all it takes." With a calm smile, she tilts her head slightly, then raises one hand in a gesture as though saying "okay" or otherwise pinching a penny. "M-O-N-E-Y. You are required to put up a modest sum in order to get a pile. You understand that much, don't you?"

This is where the funding from those bastards who'd sponsored you would come in handy. With a shrug, you produce the bills, then slide them towards her. "You don't mind being my opponent, do you?" you question her, raising one eyebrow tauntingly.

She raises both of hers for a moment, then laughs into her palm. "Heh heh heh! No no, that's not the way we do things here. You have to have a pot comparable to my own in order to challenge me. Yours is a bit lacking," she sighs, recrossing her legs so that one of her red, high-heeled shoes briefly flashes into your field of vision. "Why don't you ask again after you've gone through the others?"

"Not enough, is it?" you ask, then smirk as you produce an offer she can't refuse: a giant wad of bills, smacked down onto the table. "Can I buy what I need with this? Forgive my impatience, but you've already caught my attention, Celestia."

Something flickers in her expression for just a moment, causing her eyelids to lower and her smile to widen. Is it annoyance at your arrogance? Greed, at the sight of all that money? "That is... an acceptable amount," she yields, returning to her usual sweet smile.

"Hey, what the fuck? What about my game?!" the huge guy sitting across from you scowls. "This dickwad took a seat across from me, didn't he? You two think I'm a joke?"

Celestia's eyes suddenly darken as she leans across the table. The rest of the room falls suddenly silent. "Yes, Mondo, I do think you're a joke. You've got the guts for gambling, but none of the wits. Look at that pathetic pile... and you call yourself a man?" she asks, immediately degrading the huge yankee so hard that he seems to shrink in his seat. "Don't forget that you already owe the house. You can act like a big man after you've added a few inches to that stack of tokens."

He grumbles "bitch" under his breath, then crosses his arms and drops the argument.

You know you've made the right call-- here, Celestia is the queen. She's already gotten everyone here under her thumb through some combination of finances, her own aura, and perhaps unspoken .

The girl flicks her hands in a "shoo" motion to either side, signalling for the others around her to move their game elsewhere so that you can take your spot on the corner. You thank her, then move seats, allowing a small young man in a chef's hat and white garb to take your old position. From this distance, you take in more of her details: her intoxicating, rose-scented perfume. The way she barely moves or even blinks out of turn, just like a perfectly-controlled marionette. Finding a tell in such a woman during a game of chance would be impossible. "Now, Tomo. The game of the house today is blackjack. I'm the house, of course. Blackjack has pretty good odds, compared to other card games! You stand to win a lot," she reassures you with a gorgeous smile, her slim fingers steepling as the base of her palms sit upon the table.

"I'm fine with blackjack," you agree, then stick one hand into your coat pocket and grin. "But as for trusting the house? That part I'm not so sure about."

"Hehehehe... We haven't started the first game yet and you're already looking for some way to blame me for your miserable luck?" Celestia chuckles, her voice full of taunting and malice, even as her face remains pretty and composed. "What do you propose?"

"I'd like to propose we use my deck," you suggest, revealing a deck of cards for inspection and placing it in front of her. With one palm, you bid her to count the cards herself-- she'll verify they make up a standard 52 card deck. She'll have no reason to question the strange pictures depicted on their faces, which are just a bit different than any she's seen before. But with the backs all uniform, the cards free of any dog-ears or scuffing, and everything else in order, will she have any reason to complain?

Celestia nods after inspecting each card thoroughly. She almost looks disappointed she didn't find any trace of tampering. "You must have a lot of faith in these cards. Is this your lucky deck?"

"It's lucky, alright," you laugh along with her, returning her smugness in equal measure. Seeing those cartoonish images on the cards' faces probably only made her laugh inwardly. Good. You need her unaware. "Do you mind if I take a turn shuffling?"

Celestia grins. "Of course! As long as you don't mind me shuffling them after."

You grin. "Oh, by all means. And then, why don't we each shuffle them a second time?"

"Part of your ritual?"

"... Something like that."

The shuffling ought to have worked its magic. In ordinary cases, Celestia's watchful red eyes would have picked up on any cheating with the cards-- she knew how to watch closely for any signs of foul play. In this case, that would work against her. She would have caught every moment of that flickering set of subliminal images as the cards fed into each other, exactly formulated ahead of time so that they would produce the desired effect. You suspect that her outward appearance, sharp as a tack and ready to prey on a new face, is totally at odds with a new directive: to follow your bidding.

The girl's curls bob as she tilts her heads lightly. "Ready to start?" she asks, placing one hand gently down upon the four-times shuffled deck. You feel like her own practiced motions could be hypnotic, at least against someone less trained in the art of hypnotism than yourself.

"Actually," you interrupt. "I was hoping we could set some additional stakes first. Money isn't enough to make the game exciting, is it?"