Chapter 266

I have gathered the fundamental intelligence required to amass over a thousand coins at this physical casino. With all the groundwork laid, it is time to put the plan into action.

“Phew.”

The muffled, scratchy sounds of low-fidelity jazz permeate the underground gambling hall. We take a steadying breath and move forward. It’s starting.

“Greetings, dealer!”

I take a seat at one of the tables in the dealer room. I intentionally avoid the table hosted by the entity wearing Assistant Lee Seong-hae’s face, choosing instead a dealer with an unfamiliar countenance. Even though I can feel Lee Seong-hae’s gaze piercing me from a distance, I act as though I am completely oblivious to it.

“Welcome, guest. Are you ready to place your bets?” The strange dealer offers a polite smile.

“Yes, let’s begin.”

We decide to play the ‘Vision Game,’ the card game introduced earlier where the goal is to predict the card’s identity. The dealer performs a flashy shuffle before fanning the deck out for me.

“I’ll pick this one.”

I pull a card. It’s a straightforward wager on the suit or value. “Three coins on hearts.”

“Checking the card.”

My first attempt is a bust—the seven of spades. Three coins are swept away. “How unfortunate,” I remark. “Let’s go again!”

“Bet confirmed.”

The cycle repeats. I maintain a steady rhythm, placing minimum bets and experiencing a balanced mix of minor wins and losses. Occasionally, I raise the stakes.

“I’m feeling lucky. Thirty coins on this one!” I declare loudly.

“The bet has failed.”

“Ah, what a loss!” I exclaim. Despite the drama, I manage to win roughly once every few rounds, ensuring the coin count is meticulously managed. My win rate and betting amounts fluctuate wildly and without any discernible pattern, making my actions seem entirely chaotic. Though the table is cluttered with nearly a hundred coins, our actual capital has been halved by these deliberate losses.

After more than an hour has passed, the moment finally arrives.

“Care to place another bet?”

“Hmm…” I hesitate, appearing fully absorbed in the gamble. Then, I shove the entire pile of coins forward. They clatter across the wood, coming to a rest under the dim glow of the vintage light bulbs.

The dealer’s eyes sparkle as they gather the rolling coins. “A total bet of 113 coins? A bold move.”

“Let’s see where it goes,” I reply.

“Select your card.”

I reach out with practiced grace and point to a specific card in the line. “That one.”

“Confirmed.” The dealer lifts the selection. I watch with an intensity that I quickly mask.

“I’m calling it… number seven.”

The dealer’s expression remains static, but their movements seem to stutter, turning uncharacteristically sluggish. They flip the card over.

The seven of spades. The jackpot.

“The bet… is successful.”

A massive cascade of coins is pushed toward me from beneath the table. “That brings the total to 904 coins.” I briefly squeeze my fist shut under the table before relaxing. In a single stroke, I’ve reached the threshold of 999 coins.

[Marvelous! A resounding success, my friend!]

Indeed. And it wasn’t blind luck. I chose that card because I knew exactly what was on the other side. I haven’t gained psychic powers; I simply exploited the rules of the casino without using any supernatural tricks.

The loophole was hiding in plain sight from the moment we arrived: the sheer decay of the facility. The walls, the lights, the slot machines, and the tables are all falling apart. This derelict state enhances the horror, but it also compromises the integrity of the games. Specifically, the cards themselves are ancient.

A standard deck should be indistinguishable from the back, but time creates unique identifiers—tiny stains, micro-scratches, and subtle creases. During the first few rounds, I searched for the card with the most distinct ‘telltale’ markings. In this deck, it was the seven of spades, which had two minute scratches that caught the light just right. Once I identified it and confirmed its value, I simply waited. I allowed enough time to pass to avoid raising red flags before ‘finding’ the card again and betting the house on it.

While these marks are nearly invisible to the naked eye, we had a secret weapon.

“Haha, look at that! Luck strikes again!” Agent Choi shouts.

Agent Choi possesses the terrifying ability to identify individuals solely by their skeletal structure and vein patterns. His observation and memory are beyond human norms; for him, memorizing the imperfections on a card is second nature. When I asked him to help, he agreed with a shrug, noting that while a public servant shouldn’t gamble, exceptions must be made for the mission. He sat there with perfect composure, playing the part of a common gambler until the trap was set.

This technique has actually been used in the real world by gamblers reading printing errors on card patterns. While modern casinos swap decks constantly to prevent this, a folklore-based entity tied to the ‘old and worn’ is inherently vulnerable to it.

“Current holdings… 924 coins.”

Everything is moving according to plan. I remain seated next to Agent Choi, pretending to be a captivated spectator as he prepares for another round. We need to be careful to look natural.

“The luck is flowing, let’s keep it going—”

“Guest.”

I feel my neck go stiff as I turn. Assistant Lee Seong-hae is standing over the table, smiling thinly.

“That is a very clever strategy you’re using.” They stare directly at us. “In fact, it’s the exact same method I used when I first arrived here as a visitor.”

My heart skips a beat.

“You’re tracking the scratches on the card backs to identify the numbers, aren’t you?” The dealer brushes the deck with fingers that clearly belong to several different people. “But once a flaw is exposed, it can no longer be used.”

I recall the grim end of the real-world story this was based on—the gambler who was sued and stripped of every cent.

“I’m not sure what you’re implying,” Agent Choi counters. “Do you have proof? Are you trying to intimidate a winner just because the house is losing? This is terrifying! I’m breaking out in a cold sweat here.”

The dealer pulls their hand back. “There is no proof, you are correct. However…” They push the current dealer aside and take over the table. “Shall we continue? Surely you won’t walk away now? That would look very suspicious.”

A new deck is produced from a pocket. It is old, but entirely different from the previous one.

“Now… place your bets.”

We are in trouble.

“I’ll take the lead this time,” I say, looking into Lee Seong-hae’s remaining eye. “Since these are public funds, and luck tends to even out, perhaps Agent Choi should step back before his streak turns. I’d like to try my hand at the excitement.”

Agent Choi looks exhausted, but he nods and moves aside.

[Don’t worry, friend. This is well within your grasp!]

I stand up. “Can we move to the table you were originally using? I feel like I’ve drained all the luck out of this one.”

“As you wish,” Lee Seong-hae replies, guiding us back to the original station. I gather the coins and follow.

“How much are we wagering?”

I slide the entire stack forward. All 924 coins.

“The full 924?”

“Yes.”

“Confirmed.” Assistant Lee Seong-hae fans the new cards out. As I reach out, my wrist is suddenly caught.

“Careful, guest. You shouldn’t touch the cards before the reveal.”

“…”

“Were you planning to leave a fingerprint on the back to mark it for later?”

“You misunderstand,” I reply calmly. “I’ve bet everything. If I lose this, there is no ‘later.’ Marking a card I can’t afford to play again would be pointless.”

The dealer’s grip loosens. “A fair point. Proceed.”

I select a card. A bead of sweat rolls down my face.

“Which suit or number?”

“…Hearts,” I say, my voice steady. “My very first bet was on hearts, so I’ll return to where I started.”

The dealer scans the room, checking for hidden mirrors or accomplices signaling from the sidelines. Section Chief Lee Ja-heon is there, but he is merely leaning against the back wall. There is nothing out of the ordinary. The dealer flips the card.

The four of hearts.

“2772 coins awarded.” A literal mountain of coins begins to pour onto the table.

Success. I clench my fist hidden from view. My clothes feel damp from the tension.

“Incredible! A total windfall!” Agent Choi bellows, slapping me on the back like a jubilant friend. His eyes, however, remain sharp and questioning. He has no idea how I actually won.

The truth is, I didn’t find a loophole this time. I cheated.

I had Braun tell Manager Lee Ja-heon to lean against the wall behind the table. The Manager’s true form—the giant lizard—has eyes far larger and more reflective than a human’s. Because the dealer was holding the cards at just the right angle, the front of the card was mirrored in the Manager’s massive pupils. I didn’t need to see the fine print; a vague silhouette and the color red were enough.

Because everyone else sees the Manager as a normal human, no one could have guessed that his eyes were serving as a high-definition surveillance mirror. It was a scam that was impossible to detect.

[That was quite the thrill! While a narrator shouldn’t condone fraud, one could call this a ‘supernatural intuition.’ You were like a psychic reading a record’s contents just by looking at the label!]

I don’t know about that, but it was the only way to win once the card-marking trick was blocked.

The dealer remains silent. I avoid making eye contact as I bask in the faux-congratulations of Agent Choi.

“Congratulations,” the dealer finally says. “You have surpassed the 999-coin mark. You are now eligible for the VIP area. Shall I show you the way?”

“Please.”

We gather our massive winnings and rise from the table.

“A group with over 999 coins may enter the VIP room,” the dealer explains as we walk. “The primary member can bring up to two guests.”

We stop before a set of golden iron gates.

“Opening now.”

The doors slide back to reveal a luxurious, disorienting labyrinth. It isn’t dilapidated like the outer casino; instead, it’s a velvet-lined maze of private booths and heavy curtains, stretching out like a hall of mirrors. The only thing out of place is a framed subway advertisement for the “CITY ROYAL CASINO” hanging on the wall.

“Please, follow me. You may enjoy your privacy here.”

Our group enters. Baek Sa-heon tries to hang back, but Agent Bronze drags him in. A sense of impending doom settles over me.

The dealer pulls back a curtain to reveal a private lounge with velvet sofas and refreshments. And on the table sits a silver pistol.

“Today’s game is ready.” The dealer picks up the weapon and cocks it. “Russian roulette.”

“Great,” I mutter.

“The rules are famous,” the dealer continues, spinning the cylinder of the .38 revolver. “One live round. Two participants. You take turns. The first to yield loses.”

The dealer’s hand is terrifyingly steady.

“However, if you find the gun too intimidating, there is an alternative.” The dealer’s gaze sweeps over us. “You may forfeit a part of your body to pass the turn to your opponent.”

“Wait,” I interrupt. “Who are we playing against? Another guest?”

“The winner takes the entire pot,” the dealer says with a smile. “But as you can see, there are no other guests in the VIP room currently.”

“Will more be arriving?”

“I cannot say.”

“When was the last time someone was even here?”

“That is confidential.”

“Have you ever actually seen another guest in here?”

“No.”

This is a trap.

“Wait. The ‘special’ body parts from the pawn shop… is this where they come from?”

Assistant Lee Seong-hae’s smile widens. “Correct. If a visitor survives three consecutive trigger pulls, they can claim one body part as a reward! A fitting prize for such a high-stakes game, don’t you think?”

The subway advertisement on the wall slides away to reveal a mechanical rail system. Hanging from it are various human limbs and organs, moving slowly like meat in a cold locker. One of those parts belongs to the real Lee Seong-hae.

To get her back, we have to play.

“So,” the dealer asks, looking at our group. “Who wants to go first?”