It wasn't like Martin had never been the center of attention before. Back in his teenage years, he had been notorious for speaking with his fists, and that had drawn plenty of attention.
It felt similar today, except that once the rush of adrenaline faded and everything was over, Martin looked around awkwardly.
Oh damn.
Martin didn't want this much attention. Too many eyes were already following him, the same kind he had learned to hate at work: entitled, curious, and convinced they deserved a piece of him. He wanted this game to be a breather, not another place where strangers kept pushing into his space. A small circle of loyal friends would have been enough.
Judging by the looks already sliding his way, that was no longer likely. A public duel, a public win, and a public collection of the debt had turned him into exactly the kind of player others would want to challenge.
Who wouldn't want to bring down a daring, powerful player and stand over him with a look of superiority?
