The Cheat

“You are…”

Rat King Sam, who had been about to leave, paused, his gaze fixed on the man across the gambling table.

His black evening coat had been removed, now draped over his arm, revealing a form-fitting grey waistcoat and a crisp white shirt. The garments, clearly tailored by a master, hugged his physique, accentuating his already imposing height.

Beneath the brim of his fedora, his face was chiseled and deep-set, bearing the distinct features of a Northern Slav. Yet, such a clear, pale blue gaze was rare among Slavs.

However, obscured by the hat’s shadow, Sam found it difficult to discern what truly lay hidden within those eyes.

“Bruce Wayne.”

The man, pressing his hand to his fedora, gave a polite nod.

“Good evening, esteemed Mr. Sam.”

“Bruce Wayne?”

Sam frowned, chewing on the unfamiliar name. He had frequented the Lower District for years; he should have known anyone of significance here. The name, however, was entirely new to him.

‘Was this just some brash youth who had somehow heard his name?’

“My apologies, but I’m done for the night.”

Sam waved a dismissive hand. “Go find someone else to play with.”

“Is that so?”

Ewan sighed with feigned regret. “What a pity. I heard the renowned Mr. Sam was an exceptional gambler, and I even brought extra chips specifically for this occasion.”

The silver case opened, and with a crisp clatter, beautifully crafted chips poured out, piling into a small mountain on the gambling table.

It was a full ten million Aemil in chips—a staggering ten thousand pieces. How they had all fit into such a small case was a mystery. Yet, when they cascaded out, engulfing nearly half the table, the sight was nothing short of breathtaking.

In an instant, all eyes in the casino converged, punctuated by gasps, as if witnessing a true tycoon.

“Since Mr. Sam doesn’t have time to play, then I suppose I’ll just have to…”

“Wait!”

Sam abruptly sat back down, his eyes gleaming with the predatory glint of a mouse spotting cheese. “Who said I didn’t have time?”

“But…”

“No ‘buts’ about it.”

Sam’s gaze swept over Ewan once more. This time, he noticed the luxurious gold thread embellishing the black evening coat Ewan held draped over his arm.

As if a thought had struck him, Sam raised an eyebrow. “You’re not from Belrand. You’re from the Northern Territories?”

“To be recognized so quickly? Truly worthy of the Rat King’s reputation throughout the streets and alleys,” Ewan said, removing his fedora to reveal a striking shock of silver-white hair, a smile gracing his lips.

“I am indeed from the Northern Territories. I only recently arrived in Belrand to see the world.”

“No wonder…”

Sam licked his lips, his eyes burning with avarice.

The Northern Territories were rich in rare minerals and, consequently, in parvenus who owned those rare minerals.

Foolish and wealthy, addicted to alcohol, fond of gambling, and prone to dressing like clumsy nobles despite being barely literate—these were the true labels the world affixed to those nouveau riche.

Thus, no matter where they went, the upstarts from the Northern Territories were always the most welcome guests.

After all, no one was easier to fleece than them.

“What are you all standing around for?”

Sam roared at his subordinates. “Quickly, attend to my most distinguished guest, dear Mr. Bruce, and provide him with the finest service!”

The casino, which had been somewhat quiet, erupted back into a lively buzz.

Elegant music began to play softly.

Waiters hurried about, delivering red wine and cigars to the esteemed guest.

The beautiful dealer, whose low-cut dress plunged almost to her navel and whose short skirt barely covered her thighs, helped Ewan arrange his chips while subtly showcasing her alluring figure.

“Now that’s more like it.”

Ewan, a cigar between his fingers, playfully slapped the dealer’s backside, eliciting a surprised squeal before he burst into laughter. “It’s a long night; we have to find some fun, don’t we?”

“Mr. Bruce speaks truly,” Rat King Sam said, rubbing his hands together in excitement. “Shall we begin then?”

“Begin, begin.”

Ewan impatiently waved his hand. “Let’s start now.”

‘How impatient.’

A cold smile flickered in Sam’s eyes.

‘I hope you’ll still be smiling when you’ve lost even your trousers.’

“Then, Mr. Bruce, since it’s just the two of us, how about we settle this with Belrand’s most common game, Bass Poker?” Sam suggested, his fingers deftly flipping the chips in his hand.

“That sounds perfectly fine,” Ewan agreed with a smile.

Bass Poker was quite similar to Texas Hold’em from Ewan’s previous life, albeit with some simplifications.

After the dealer dealt two hole cards, an ante was placed. Then, community cards were dealt, with betting rounds after each. Bets could not be lower than the ante, and subsequent bets could not be lower than the preceding one.

Players could fold, and there was no cap on bets.

If no one folded after three rounds, the winner was determined by comparing suits and numbers, taking all the chips.

Winner-take-all, quick money, low casino commission, and incredibly simple rules—even the dregs whose minds were corroded by alcohol and drugs could easily understand it, leading to its rapid popularity in Belrand’s Lower District.

Rumor had it that many noble lords in the Upper City were also enamored with the game.

However, many gangs also favored this game, mainly because…

“Mr. Sam, something just occurred to me.”

“Oh, do tell.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be a cheat, would you?”

Ewan stroked his chin, speaking with a serious expression. “After all, I’m new here and unfamiliar with the place. If you were to cheat, I’d be utterly helpless.”

“Of course not.”

Sam shrugged nonchalantly. “Mr. Bruce can rest assured. According to casino rules, anyone caught cheating is beaten to death.”

“Oh? Does that include you?”

“Indeed, it includes me.”

Sam extended a hand towards Ewan, who then noticed that Sam’s hand only had four fingers. “This is the price I paid in my youth for my arrogance and overconfidence. So, Mr. Bruce, you can certainly relax.

Of course, if you’re still uneasy, all the equipment here is available for your inspection. You can even deal the cards yourself.

If I cheat, my life is yours.”

“I see…”

Ewan stroked his chin, pondering for a moment, then suddenly leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. “Never mind then. I trust you, Mr. Sam. We have no grievances, so you shouldn’t have any reason to trick me.”

“Naturally, Mr. Bruce. You will always be a friend to our casino.”

Sam’s face showed gratitude for Ewan’s trust, but from an angle Ewan couldn’t see, a hint of mockery curled at the corner of his lips.

‘What a fool.’

****

The game began.

As the hole cards were dealt, even before any bets were placed, Sam saw a clear, albeit forcibly suppressed, joy on Ewan’s face.

‘Did he get a good hand?’

‘So transparent.’

‘In that case, as per tradition, I’ll give you a little taste of victory first.’

Sam’s eyes flickered. He didn’t even look at his own hole cards, merely tapping the table lightly with his finger, almost imperceptibly.

****

“First round, winner, Mr. Bruce.”

****

“Second round, winner, Mr. Bruce.”

****

“Eighteenth round, winner, Mr. Bruce! Congratulations, you’ve broken our casino’s winning streak record!”

Amidst flowers, applause, spraying champagne, astonished gazes, and the soft flattery of beautiful women, the casino’s atmosphere quickly reached a fever pitch.

And the ‘new King of Gamblers,’ who had broken the casino’s winning streak on his very first visit, now had his feet propped on the table. With one arm around a scantily clad beauty, he reclined amidst a mountain of chips even taller than before, casting a disdainful look at Sam.

“Mr. Sam, you don’t seem as formidable as the rumors claim.”

“Haha, Mr. Bruce is simply too strong!”

Sam ‘forced’ a smile, wiping nonexistent sweat from his brow. “I’ve never had such a powerful opponent as you, it seems I’ve stumbled a bit.”

“Hmph, indeed. When I was in the Northern Territories, I was similarly undefeated, known as the Little Gambling King of Jiangnan,” Ewan said, shaking his head and swaggering. “It’s only natural for you to lose to me.”

‘So, are all the people from the Northern Territories fools like you?’

Sam scoffed internally.

‘However, it seems the fish has completely taken the bait.’

“So, Mr. Bruce, do you wish to continue playing? You’ve already won several million.”

“Of course! My luck is soaring right now. Keep going, keep going!”

****

The nineteenth round, winner, Sam.

“Oh, what a shame. My winning streak is broken.”

Ewan didn’t seem to care, pushing a large pile of chips forward.

“Continue.”

****

The twentieth round, winner, Sam.

“It seems my luck is finally turning,” Sam said with a laugh.

“Hmph, it’s only two hands. What does that prove?” Ewan scoffed.

“Continue!”

****

The twenty-fifth round, winner, Bruce.

“See, I told you. It was just a small hiccup.”

Ewan, having finally won again after several losses, regained his arrogant demeanor. However, he seemed utterly oblivious that this particular victory had yielded a pitifully small amount of chips.

“Continue!”

****

The night deepened, yet the casino’s atmosphere grew even more fervent.

Everything seemed to be moving towards a predetermined outcome.

The fortieth round, winner, Sam.

“This… how is this possible?”

By now, ‘Gambling King’ Bruce had long shed his earlier arrogance and confidence. He stared at his hand, his face gradually paling.

Once again, he had lost, and this time, due to his own greed, he had lost a full five million!

The mountain of chips beside him had long dwindled, now nothing more than a bare hillock.

Even the girls who had been fawning over him earlier had departed, not to mention the surrounding spectators, who were now openly jeering.

“What’s wrong, Mr. Bruce?”

Sam, enjoying a massage from the beautiful dealer, asked with feigned concern. “Are you feeling unwell? If you’re not comfortable, we can pause…”

“Continue!”

Ewan’s eyes were bloodshot, like a beast that had lost its reason. “Next hand, I’ll definitely turn the tables next hand!”

“Very well.”

Sam licked his dry lips, a smile unconsciously curving at his mouth.

‘This boy still seems to have plenty of money, but there’s no need to take it slow anymore. It’s time for the harvest.’

Everything was going according to plan.

‘First, give him a taste of victory, make him believe he can win easily. That way, he’ll always harbor the illusion of turning things around.’

‘Then, gradually push him into the abyss. And in that despair, offer him a glimmer of hope.’

‘Preferably, a brilliant, unparalleled hope.’

‘At that moment, he will…’

“Everything! I’m betting everything!”

With an excited roar, Ewan shoved all the chips in front of him forward.

He stared at his hand, his body trembling uncontrollably, his eyes gleaming as if he saw a future where he won everything.

—This was, of course, because the hand he held was a Four of a Kind.

Four of a Kind was one of the strongest hands in this game; an ordinary person might gamble away their entire fortune and never be dealt one.

And now, just as he was on the verge of losing everything, he had been dealt a Four of a Kind…

Naturally, he would bet everything.

This was the gambler’s psychology, and as a seasoned gambler, Sam understood it better than anyone.

Everything, from the very beginning, had been under control.

“Not just these chips, I also have deposits in the Imperial Bank, and several properties in Belrand, worth about ten million. I’m betting it all!”

Crystal cards, property deeds, even his golden pocket watch—the man calling himself Bruce seemed to have gone mad, throwing everything onto the gambling table.

According to the rules, bets had to be equal.

“You wouldn’t fold, would you?” The man, suddenly realizing his frantic actions, looked up nervously at Sam.

“No, of course not.”

Seeing the fortune easily worth tens of millions, Sam’s grin stretched exaggeratedly.

“To be frank, my hand is also very strong. Why would I fold, Mr. Bruce?”

“Then your bet…”

Sam’s existing ten million chips wouldn’t be enough.

“The casino. I’m betting this casino to you.” Sam clapped his hands, as if he had prepared for this all along, and his subordinate placed the casino’s deed on the gambling table.

The casino…

The man’s gaze swept around, his expression growing even more excited.

He envisioned himself owning this casino, which raked in fortunes daily.

Thus, he eagerly threw out his hand.

“Four of a Kind! I have Four of a Kind! Sam, you lose!”

Seeing this, Sam’s smile grew even wider, his eyes more mocking.

‘What a fool.’

‘Normally, you would certainly win, after all, I deliberately had the dealer give you a Four of a Kind.’

‘But that’s under normal circumstances.’

The Rat King lowered his eyes, looking at his own hand.

Perhaps the dealer had made a mistake; this hand was terrible, not even a pair.

But that was inconsequential.

He extended a finger and lightly rubbed one of the cards.

The number on the card instantly changed, and with this alteration, the entire hand underwent a drastic transformation.

It became the strongest hand in the game’s rules!

This was not magic; it was merely sleight of hand.

Magic was too easily perceived. In contrast, such minor tricks, like street magic, were far harder to detect if one was skilled enough.

As for… cheating?

‘Heh, this is certainly not cheating.’

‘How can a cheat who isn’t discovered be called a cheat?’

‘Boy, let me show you the cruelty of the Lower District.’

‘If you can’t even manipulate cards, what makes you think you can gamble against me?’

“Mr. Bruce, I’m truly sorry.”

Sam gently laid down his hand, revealing a hand even rarer than a Four of a Kind, one some might never see in a lifetime—the absolute strongest hand. He smiled confidently. “It seems my skills are superior after all.”

“…” At this moment, the entire casino fell into a deathly silence.

It was as if everyone was stunned by the hand Sam had revealed.

This filled Sam with immense satisfaction. He cast a leisurely gaze at the ‘Mr. Bruce’ before him.

Admiring the despair of others was his favorite pastime.

…

However, he saw no despair in those pale blue eyes.

Instead, there was… amusement.

An unparalleled amusement.

As if he had just concluded a grand performance, the man calling himself Bruce replaced his fedora, transforming in an instant. The exaggerated emotions he had displayed were now completely veiled by the deep shadow cast by the wide brim, rendering him inscrutable once more.

Only the mocking smile at the corner of his lips remained, starkly clear.

“Mr. Sam, what are you saying? The winner… is me, isn’t it?”

“You? How could that be? This is…”

Sam looked down, and his expression instantly froze.

To his disbelief, the hand that should have swept everything away had once again become humble and weak. Forget a Four of a Kind, it couldn’t even compare to the smallest pair.

Because.

The card he had supposedly manipulated away had, for some unknown reason, reappeared.

It sat awkwardly, crookedly amongst his cards, glaringly obvious.

“This… how is this possible?!” Sam shrieked in horror.

‘It came back?’

‘What the hell do you mean it came back?!’

‘Didn’t that card disappear already?’

‘Did it grow legs or something?’

“Your strongest card is merely an Ace, while I have a Four of a Kind. I think it should be clear to anyone who wins and who loses.”

Ewan pulled out a handkerchief, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Despite the fervent atmosphere, the casino wasn’t particularly hot, yet he was drenched in sweat as if he had just undergone strenuous exertion.

“So, all of this belongs to me now.”

*Click.*

The cold sound of a crossbow being cocked echoed through the silent casino.

Ewan withdrew his hand, calmly looking up at the magic repeating crossbow in Sam’s hand. His pale blue eyes, shadowed by the fedora, remained as placid as an ancient well.

“Mr. Sam, what is the meaning of this?”

“No, this isn’t right at all!”

Seeing assets worth nearly fifty thousand about to fall into Ewan’s pocket, Sam waved the repeating crossbow, screaming frantically. “I was clearly the winner! That card was clearly manipulated by me, my hand was the strongest!”

“Manipulated?”

Ewan raised an eyebrow, as if hearing the term for the first time. He tilted his head, asking softly, “Does that mean… Mr. Sam, you were cheating?”

“Screw you! You’re the one who cheated!”

Sam’s eyes were bloodshot as he glared at Ewan. “You must have done something, otherwise I couldn’t have failed! I’ve never failed before!”

“Heh, Mr. Sam, accusing someone of cheating requires proof. And when you say you ‘manipulated’ the cards, aren’t you admitting to cheating yourself?”

Ewan chuckled, a brilliant yet cruel smile spreading across his face, as if he had finally seen the little rabbit leap into his trap.

“So, that means not only the casino and the money, but now your life… is also mine, isn’t it?”