Chapter 50
Chapter 50
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 50
Chapter Title: Devil's Gamble - Rules (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“...You're insane.”
A long sigh escaped my lips.
In one corner of my chest, the lingering throb that hadn’t fully subsided continued to pulse faintly.
Roulette wheels, chips, coins, and the phrase [Can be exchanged].
Lifetimes’ worth of fortunes spinning right before my eyes.
Brushing it all off without a flicker of emotion wasn’t easy.
But the Rulebook was clear.
If you don’t pay the entry fee, you can’t leave.
Greed could wait.
For now, survival came first.
I crossed the hall carpeted in red.
Laughter tangled with screams of excitement and despair echoed from every table we passed.
The clear clink of glassware colliding, the jingle of stacking chips—it all filled the air.
A woman in a bunny girl outfit approached, holding a silver tray high. The glasses gleamed unusually bright, but I didn’t linger on the sight.
Everything here was just a trap, bait to snag your ankle with temptation.
As I walked, turning my gaze aside, a story I’d heard long ago suddenly came to mind.
The real world.
A casino in Las Vegas.
There really wasn’t a single window installed inside the building.
No way to tell if the sun had risen outside or if night had deepened.
A space cut off from external time.
Clocks were rigorously excluded from the interior as well.
No timepieces on the walls, ceilings, tables, or the staff’s wrists.
Instead, what dominated people’s vision was the relentless flood of lights.
Golden, red, blue—flashing ceaselessly in alternation.
As if this very moment was the peak, as if no time had passed at all, fooling human senses.
The same rhythm around the clock.
No distinction between lunch, midnight, or dawn.
Always in the midst of a festival.
Implanting the sensation that “just one more, one more round” would be fine.
I politely declined the drink glass offered by the approaching bartender and resumed walking.
‘...This place is even worse.’
Here, it wasn’t just the absence of windows— the very concept of an outside had been erased.
A space where you couldn’t even imagine an exterior, day or night.
The flyer’s words and the Rulebook overlapped in my mind.
[Chips can be obtained at the Pawn Shop, and what you can pawn is your ‘lifespan’]
“…So in the end, I have to trade my time as collateral.”
In a corner of the hall.
There was a passageway brighter than anywhere else.
The red carpet turned to gold, the lights unusually intense.
As if kindly directing me this way.
At the end of that path floated a golden sign in midair.
[Pawn Shop]
[♠ We accept your value as collateral. ♠]
I’d found the Pawn Shop, at least.
I steadied my breath and headed there.
To get out of here.
I had to pay the entry fee.
And that fee could only be paid with chips.
The place exchanging them was right there, that Pawn Shop.
As I approached, the Pawn Shop came into view.
Beneath the sign was a small teller window.
A narrow slit, like a bank counter.
Beyond it, the interior glowed faintly in dim light.
The walls were densely lined with items seemingly pawned by past visitors.
Watches, rings, faded photos, worn dolls.
Objects each carrying their own stories, but here they all meant the same.
Collateral in place of ‘time.’
Unlike the phrasing about pawning ‘lifespan,’ it was clear you could pawn objects or other things too.
A silver tray sat before the window.
Designed to receive whatever a customer offered, then push back gleaming chips.
I stopped in front of the window.
Behind the glass stood a man in bartender attire.
Like the other staff, he wore a shining smiling-face mask, and a sharp gaze flickered from the eyeholes, fixed straight on me.
Now was the time to trade time and life for chips.
***
The man behind the mask silently raised a hand.
“Please extend your wrist.”
A strangely low, smooth voice.
I hesitated for a moment, but soon held out my wrist.
Refusing would mean I couldn’t even participate in this game from the start.
A cold touch grazed my skin, followed by the sensation of something invisible being drawn out.
I stifled a groan and waited.
My heart skipped a beat, then my breathing settled.
“…Hmm.”
As if signaling the end.
The staff member released my wrist with a short, cough-like sound.
Clink—
Golden chips fell onto the silver tray.
Their small bounces against each other conveyed a heavy weight.
Soon, with a click—a faint mechanical whir—the silver tray slid out toward the window.
The moment I picked it up, the bartender spoke again.
From behind the smiling mask came a low, firm voice.
“Settlement for the item you pawned at the Pawn Shop will be processed… when your chips are depleted or when you leave this gaming hall.”
His lips paused briefly before moving again.
Followed by a mechanically smooth greeting.
“We hope you have an enjoyable time.”
As the window began to close, I spoke up.
“How much do I need… to pay the entry fee?”
A brief silence.
Soon, the bartender’s gaze slowly drifted to the chips in my hand.
“There is no fixed entry fee. However, if I must say…”
From behind the mask, a hint of mockery brushed past.
“Your first chips, the full amount—that becomes your entry fee.”
He lightly tapped the silver tray with a fingertip.
“Would you like to pay the entry fee now, by any chance?”
“…I’ll pass.”
“A wise choice. But do not forget.”
The bartender’s voice sank low.
“No matter when you settle, it doesn’t matter. Just remember—you cannot take a single step out of this casino without paying.”
With that, the silver tray vanished back into the window.
The bartender’s shadow faded away with it.
I pulled the chips from my pocket and pressed them once more.
The cold, heavy sensation transmitted fully to my fingertips.
But it felt different from before.
For the price of life—it was
too light.
Turning back, the hall’s clamor crashed over me like a wave.
Cheers, screams, clattering chips, endless pouring lights.
Leaving the Pawn Shop, stepping onto the red carpet again, I was instantly swallowed back into the crowd’s heat.
Before me sprawled endless tables tangled with masked dealers.
I let out a short breath.
Now, it was time to truly join this horror tale’s game.
***
After confirming the chips in my pocket once more, I surveyed the hall.
Among the endless lineup of games, one table caught my eye.
“Blackjack…”
The one game I knew, at least.
I’d only seen roulette or baccarat in movies, never played them.
Poker I knew a bit, but it was old and fuzzy in memory.
The only rule still clear in my head was simple Blackjack.
Taking turns drawing cards to make a total, choosing yourself whether to hit or stand.
Closest to 21 without going over wins.
Bust over 21, instant loss.
Memories flashed of playing it every night on school trips, wagering snacks and drinks with friends.
My gaze naturally turned to the most intuitive game I knew.
Conveniently, a spot at a table in the hall’s center was empty.
A card table bathed in blue light.
The masked dealer looked at me and gestured to the seat with an open palm.
“Will you participate?”
I took a few chips from my pocket and placed them on the table.
Refusal wasn’t an option.
I’d planned to play this game anyway.
Only two people at the table.
Me and the dealer, smiling mask fixed in place.
No need to compete with others when I didn’t even fully know the rules yet.
Soon, the cards shuffled out in a steady rhythm.
The dealer’s deft fingers paused, and one card slid toward me.
In the silence, the sound of the card settling rang clearly in my ears.
Then, the dealer spoke lowly.
“First-timers often misunderstand.”
A black spade lay face-down.
Thud—
I flipped the card.
Number: ‘9’
The dealer followed, flipping to reveal theirs.
Also 9.
“Let me explain the rules simply.”
The dealer’s voice flowed smoothly.
“Here, only one of my two cards is open. The other remains hidden.”
Soon, a second card slid to me.
Number 7.
“Meanwhile, as the player, with both your cards revealed, you see my open card and choose to hit or stand.”
Total: 16.
A precarious number.
Five steps to 21.
17, 18, 19, 20, 21.
If the dealer’s hidden card was one of those (8 or higher), I’d lose right there.
“If you want another, say ‘hit.’ To stop, say ‘stand.’”
Whispers crossed in my mind.
‘Hit—’
If I hit and drew 6 or higher, instant bust, automatic loss.
‘Then, stand—’
The voice cut off midway.
Even standing now, 16 was ambiguous.
High chance of losing.
In the silence, the dealer’s gaze fixed on me.
The smiling mask unchanged, but a glint seeped from the eyeholes.
The rustling stopped entirely, and the table fell completely quiet.
Finally, the dealer’s low, smooth voice urged.
“—What will it be?”
The dealer’s wrist bent gracefully, and a card dropped lightly onto the table—thud.
The card’s back faced me, gleaming quietly.
The smiling mask hovered over the card and asked.
“Hit? …Or—”
The air sank low.
“—Stand?”