Chapter 299
Without so much as a glance at the man in sunglasses, the old man turned toward the cutter and gave his instructions in a measured tone. “Begin grinding. Follow the rind along the edge of this black patch and ease your way down.”
“Grind it?” The cutter faltered, his brows lifting. “Are you certain? That method will cost extra time and more effort.”
The process of grinding, unlike a swift slice, demanded patience and greater expense—especially for a stone written off as worthless. To the onlookers, the request sounded absurd.
However, the old man did not waver. “Do as I said. Grind it,” he replied, each word carrying quiet authority.
Teeth gritted, the man in sunglasses swallowed his rage. “Just dragging things out!” he muttered under his breath.
The wheel soon shrieked to life, its sharp whir cutting into the tense air as every gaze fixed on the dull stone.
Sophie’s fingers curled tighter around Adrian’s hand. Adrian caught the motion and leaned toward her. “You anxious?”
Sophie’s lips curved into a crooked smile. “I promised myself never to gamble on stones. And still, it feels like I’m doing exactly that.”
Her gaze clung nervously to the rough stone resting on the platform. From the little she had crammed, she understood the chances of an emerald inside were close to nothing. A prayer slipped into her mind. “Please, let it shine green. Please.”
The plea broke past her thoughts and tumbled out in a hushed whisper.
Adrian heard and answered with a quiet laugh, his voice warm. “Steady now. I have a feeling this stone hides more than it shows.”
Sophie blinked at him, faintly surprised, assuming he meant only to comfort her.
Meanwhile, the grinding wheel chewed steadily at the scarred outer rind, dust spraying in pale clouds. Time crawled, the opening strip revealing only a dry, chalky white core with not the faintest glimmer of emerald.
“Ha! Worthless scrap! Victory is mine!” the man in sunglasses shouted, almost bouncing on his heels with glee.
Behind him, the men in gaudy shirts doubled over, their laughter sharp and merciless. All around, the crowd echoed the mockery, seasoned gamblers quick to relish another beginner’s downfall.
A chill swept through Sophie’s chest, her hope sinking like a stone. She had steeled herself for such an outcome, yet the stark emptiness revealed still crushed her with shame and dismay.
In contrast, the old man stood unruffled, as though the noise carried no weight upon his shoulders. He bent nearer, eyes narrowing at the pale seam, before giving a calm instruction. “Go on. Cut deeper along this mark. Grind further.”
“Still grinding? Old fool, you’ll cling to that rock till your last breath!”
“You’re tossing money straight into the fire! The cutting fee already costs more than that rock ever will!”
The taunts grew sharper, their laughter swelling like a wave. Although the cutter found the old man’s persistence absurd, he still carried out the order without protest.
Once more, the grinding wheel shrieked to life, filling the air with its harsh drone. A portion of the onlookers, bored with the wait, began drifting off in search of quicker entertainment.
Minutes dragged on, heavy and slow.
Adrian leaned close, his voice light with humor. “Babe, one more squeeze and this hand of mine will need patching too.”
Snapping from her trance, Sophie jerked her hand away in flustered haste.
The wheel cut off mid-motion.
For a heartbeat, the cutter froze, tools clamped in place. Power cut out, and for the first time, his features twisted into raw disbelief.
A dipper of water was scooped, then poured gently across the scarred surface, washing away the chalky residue with hurried strokes.
From beneath the rinsed layer, a revelation bloomed where moments earlier only lifeless gray had lingered. A pure emerald green burst forth, rich and flawless. That brilliance burned with such fierce vitality that it snared every wandering glance without mercy.
Silence dropped heavy, smothering the workshop as if the world itself had forgotten to breathe. Not a soul moved, each person struck dumb, eyes locked wide on the dazzling heart of stone.
Then chaos erupted. The stillness shattered like glass, and the mob surged with deafening cries.
“Emerald—actual emerald! Heaven help us, that shine, that depth!” A voice cracked apart in awe.
“Never in my life! To think such a worthless rind could hide a jewel like this—madness!”
“Behold it! This is no stone—it is a crown treasure!”
What the crowd had scorned as a five-hundred-dollar leftover now blazed forth as a fortune, a miracle of millions sprung straight from fantasy. Eyes that once mocked now widened in reverence, though jealousy simmered beneath their sheen.
Gone was the swagger of the sunglasses man; his complexion drained until it resembled chalk scraped raw.
Unbothered by the storm of voices, the old man accepted the stone from the cutter’s frozen grasp—a castoff reborn into glory in the span of breaths. A tender rub with his worn cloth followed, his hands cradling the gem not as treasure but as something quietly beloved.
Closing the space between them, he fixed his calm gaze on the stricken man. “Now, it is time to honor the wager.”
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