High Stakes Roulette
“Could you wait just a moment?”
“Sure, take your time.”
I leaned back casually, legs crossed, watching the female clerk inspect the check for authenticity.
Even 500 gold draws some attention, huh.
In the capital's casinos, 500 gold got you treated like any ordinary guest.
But this was some backwater town.
A young man—especially a first-time visitor—exchanging 500 gold for chips? That wasn't an everyday sight.
No sign of Lieutenant Ollmen.
I'd confirmed he was heading to the casino, so it was a bit odd.
Probably just hit the bathroom or something.
Either way, he was definitely inside.
“Thank you for waiting. Here are the chips for your 500 gold—would you like to verify?”
“I'm sure you got it right.”
Fifty-two red chips worth 100 bits each, plus five blue 10-bit chips.
5,250 bits in total. Just looking at them made me feel loaded.
“And this is our complimentary service for honored guests.”
The woman flashed a seductive smile as she tossed three extra red chips on top.
Roughly 30 gold. Solid service.
This place rivaled a karaoke bar.
“Thanks.”
I replied flatly, pocketed the chips, and headed straight for the tables.
What to try first.
The place was huge, packed with every game imaginable, but the first that caught my eye was, naturally, roulette.
Can't pass that up.
Not that I was dying to play—it was just a pure luck game, perfect for not looking like a total newbie.
“Care to join the game?”
The dealer tossed out a line I'd heard a million times somewhere.
Too bad it was a guy instead of a hot woman.
“Sure.”
I took an empty seat and scanned the roulette wheel.
Damn, already looks tasty.
Thirty-seven numbers.
Spin the ball and guess where it lands—a straight-up dopamine rush.
“We have to win this one.”
The middle-aged guy next to me was scribbling furiously on a notepad.
Last spin was 16, one before that 7. Does that even mean anything?
Trying to calculate luck was the wrong approach from the start.
“What're you staring at?!”
He noticed my glance and suddenly roared like he wanted to devour me.
“Nothing much.”
It wasn't even worth looking at anyway.
“If you wanna win money, earn it yourself…”
“Alright, calm down. Placing bets!”
The dealer cut in as the man's voice rose.
This guy's nuts. Talking about 'effort' in a casino?
Probably the type who'd say you need to study for the lottery.
“3, 16, 7—aaah! Even this time for sure!”
Did a god possess him or something?
He slapped three red chips on even.
Shit, what a pussy.
Roulette had all sorts of payouts, but the lamest were odd/even and color bets.
Two-to-one odds? Why gamble then—go play the stock market.
I thought his scribbling might lead somewhere, but total letdown.
“Pfft.”
“What the hell?!”
He heard my snicker and shot up from his seat.
“Hey, it's funny. Overthinking a measly three chips?”
I picked up one chip from my stack of dozens and waved it teasingly.
“How long's it gonna take to make money like that? Straight-up 21—how much?”
After a moment's thought, I shoved twenty-one red chips onto the 21 slot.
“C…crazy.”
It was borderline reckless, and every eye in the place turned to me.
200 gold—that's like how much?
My paycheck from the other day was just under 20 gold, so roughly half a year's salary.
For reference, straight-up bet—one number—paid 35 to 1 on a hit.
Sorry, average Joe. Gambling's for other people's money.
If it were mine, my hands would've shaken. But this? Stone-cold steady.
Nah, thrilled, even.
I was about to burn some of that stingy intel agency's budget.
Take it all. Big bro's feeling generous today.
A relaxed smile born of pure comfort.
Right now, I looked every inch the pro gambler.
“A…alright then, spinning.”
Bets closed, the dealer picked up the white ball for the wheel.
“For this spin, would that gentleman like to turn the wheel?”
“Sure.”
A quick glance at the rules book showed this roulette had a twist.
Dealer throws the ball, but the biggest bettor spins the wheel.
Basically, to prevent dealer cheating.
Seems fair enough, right?
But if it were fair, it wouldn't be a casino.
They had some trick up their sleeve for sure.
“Tossing!”
Whoosh!
The dealer snapped his wrist like a pro, launching the ball. I matched the timing and cranked the wheel hard.
Rattle-rattle-rattle!
The ball zipped along the edges.
One lap, two, three.
Slowing down, eyes widened among the bettors.
Please, odd number.
Honestly, didn't care about my number—just wanted the even guy to lose.
13, 14, 15… 17.
Fifth lap.
Speed nearly dead—last lap for sure.
18… 19…
Incredibly, inching toward my pick.
Even I started feeling my heart race a bit.
No way it hits?
For a second, I wondered—but no way it'd land on 21.
They'll make it just miss, tempt me into another bet.
Dealer 101.
20… 21… 22.
Yup.
The ball settled perfectly dead on 22—
Grrrrrind!
“Huh…?”
“What? Earthquake?!”
“Aaaah!”
The ground suddenly shook.
Screams erupted everywhere, but I tuned it out.
21.
“Wha…?”
After the tremor, the ball sat dead on 21.
I'd kept my eyes glued to the wheel the whole time. I saw it: the white ball teetering on 22, then the shake knocked it to 21.
“N…no way.”
The even bettor collapsed to the floor, stunned.
“Result… 21.”
Even the dealer looked cracked—clearly not what he expected.
But who cared. 21 it was.
Straight-up payout: 35 to 1, as I said.
Stay cool, stay cool.
No panicking, no kid face.
“Lucky, huh?”
I smirked down at the even guy, lip curled.
“M-my entire fortune! You rigged it, you bastard! You ruined me! Die!!!”
Lost it all and lost his mind too, apparently.
He lunged, grabbing my collar.
And the problem was…
A knife from his pocket.
Shit, hold up! This ain't it.
Slash!
Quick dodge—blade just grazed my hair.
Guards charging from both sides, but waiting was too risky.
“Weapons are real cheating.”
A week ago, I'd have been toast. Not now.
Knife in hand, gambling addict. I can take him.
Stabbing motion, zero defense.
I waited for his reach—
Now!
Dove in, grabbed his waist, shoved hard.
“Urgh… aaagh!”
Thud.
Body like a ragdoll—no strength at all.
“Buddy, you scared the shit outta me.”
Crunch!
Stepped on his arm, forced the knife drop, then booted him to an empty spot.
“You… you took my whole fortune!”
Still delirious.
Grabbed his collar, hauled him up, smashed a fist into his face.
Thwack!
Head lolled weakly.
One wasn't enough to settle my shock.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
“S-stop!”
Thwack! Thwack!
“Guh!”
By the time his eyes lost focus, I dropped him. He slumped to the floor.
“What're you waiting for? Clean this up. Gonna keep an attempted murderer here?”
Prodded his body with my foot. Guards finally snapped to and rushed over.
“S-sorry, sir.”
“You hurt anywhere?”
“More importantly, you let any dog or pig in without checking? What if I'd bled?”
I snapped at the guards—guys twice my size.
Got the justification here.
Half acting, half real. I almost got stabbed for real.
“My responsibility. Truly sorry for the ordeal.”
As the guard sweated bullets, a neatly dressed man approached and bowed.
“And who're you?”
“The casino manager, Jack. An honor to meet the young master of House Oclo.”
My identity—never mentioned—slipped from his mouth.
How'd he know?
A bit thrown, but it changed nothing if the casino knew.
“Good you know. How the hell do you run this place that I end up in this mess? Speak up.”
I wiped blood from my knuckles with a handkerchief, pressing him.
“Punish me as you see fit. But first—didn't you just win big on that bet?”
Clap!
Jack clapped once. A staffer wheeled over a cart piled high with red chips.
The mountain drew every eye.
“Paying me off to let it slide?”
“Perish the thought—we wouldn't insult House Oclo's heir with mere money.”
Humble posture, but zero intimidation. A pro.
“If you'd grant us the honor of escorting you to our pride and joy, the VIP room.”
“Oh?”
Wondered what comp they'd offer. Not what I expected.
VIP room, huh.
Normally, mission-unrelated, I'd pass. But circumstances differed.
Lieutenant's vanished.
From spinning the wheel to subduing that lunatic, I'd scanned everywhere.
No trace of him.
High chance he was in another area.
And what other area? VIP room.
“Dunno if a hick town's VIP room's up to snuff.”
“You'll be satisfied, I assure you. If not, beat me black and blue—no complaints.”
“That confident? Lead on.”
“We'll serve you impeccably.”
I followed the manager deeper into the casino.
But how much did I just win?
200 gold at 35x.
Simple math: 7,000 gold.
Enough for a house.
No wonder they call it gambling.
People don't get hooked for nothing.
Damn… but this ain't my money.
The 500 gold in chips? All agency ops funds.
My winnings? Could claim it, but probably wouldn't stick.
No sweat. Lose it all in the VIP room.
Walk out without a dime.
Creak!
While plotting in my head, we passed a hall to a gold-painted door.
“VIP room guests must keep secrets unless mutually agreed.”
“Think I don't know that?”
“Haha, just in case—don't take offense.”
The manager chuckled amiably and opened the door. There he was.
Lieutenant Ollmen, chin in hand, playing poker at a table.
He looked up, saw me, and grinned.
“Been waiting, platoon leader.”