Chapter 58
Chapter 58
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 58
Chapter Title: Devil's Gamble - Rules (11)
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As soon as I stepped out of the pawn shop.
I immediately pulled out my phone and accessed the Anomalous Tale Gallery.
From my recent experience, I'd been so focused on gambling at the start that I'd overlooked something crucial.
I'd thought too lightly of it.
Just like in the first run, I figured that if I kept playing a few games with the dealer, the Information Junkie would naturally show up.
But the result was—
The gamble ended in utter failure.
And as the price, I lost the lifespan I'd put up as collateral.
The one thing different this time.
It had to be the attention.
In the first run, my consecutive wins had me sweeping up chips, drawing the eyes of the crowd around me and naturally gaining interest.
The Information Junkie, probably curious about that, must have approached me.
'Which means...'
The Information Junkie had been positioned close to me.
Surviving the casino's effects until the Information Junkie arrived.
The hallucinations echoing in my ears came back to mind.
It didn't seem like a good idea at all.
I tapped the section labeled [Broadcasts].
[1523] [52411] [3] [76353] [85313] [4217] [99324] [14] [67012] [118337]
Numeric codes filled the screen.
One of these was the Information Junkie's broadcast.
Code number 3?
My eyes went to the single-digit number I'd never seen before, but then the info next to it caught my attention.
[Broadcast Time: 53001:05:13]
I was curious, but.
I knew right away this wasn't it.
The broadcast time alone was over fifty thousand hours.
I looked away and checked a few more after that.
[76353]
On the screen, a man gripping a knife appeared.
Soon, his face went pale as if he'd seen something, and he turned and bolted back the way he'd come.
—Fuck!!! Fuck!!! You fucking fuck!!!! Why the hell is a Human-Faced Dragon crawling out of the lake and shit!!!
People in Anomalous Tale Management Bureau uniforms around him seemed to have spotted the same thing.
They immediately dropped what they were holding and scattered in all directions.
[Poison Needle Pufferfish]: They're screwed.
[99324]
A woman in a black suit stood on a building rooftop.
She looked about Kang Su-ji's age, and behind her stretched a cityscape shrouded in gray mist.
Something with hundreds of legs brushed past through gaps in the mist.
The screen shook for a moment, and the woman laughed uneasily.
—Am I seeing things? Heh heh...
—Anyone else... see that thing that just passed through the mist?
—If you did... please tell me it's a dream. I saw it too. Please please please.
[Happy Storage]: ㅎㅎ No, it's reality.
I immediately turned off the broadcast.
This hell wasn't just mine.
Still, finding the Information Junkie's broadcast this way seemed impossible.
I'd find it eventually, but the longer I spent here, the more I'd lose.
In cases like this—
“Does anyone know the Information Junkie's broadcast code by any chance?”
My words rang out, and chats started flooding in fast.
[Storm Sovereign]: Information Junkie? Hmm? What was the code again.
[Human Centipede]: He's so quiet.
ㄴ[Flounder]: For real lol
[Serious Junkie]: I remember cuz his ID's like mine. Fake me.
ㄴ[Crazy Woman]: But there've been tons of Anomalous Gallery folks with IDs like yours before you?
ㄴ[Serious Junkie]: Yeah. Granny.
ㄴ[Crazy Woman]: ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ You crazy bitch, where you live?
Ignoring the two who were now derailing into a fight.
More chats poured in after that.
Then.
[Grad Student No.12]: You talking about my assistant maybe?
The Moderator.
I saw the pinned comment.
That word from before.
Assistant.
'More than that, Information Junkie. You were a slave, huh.'
He wasn't a citizen.
[Grad Student No.12]: Looking at the time now. It's the time he was deployed on an anomaly. Hold on.
[Grad Student No.12]: Code number... 87431?
I connected to that broadcast right away.
A familiar nickname, and a man who looked like the Information Junkie appeared on screen.
The chat window was closed, no reactions at all.
Only mechanical, repeating breaths came through the mic.
I watched the scene on screen intently.
Then, as I turned my head, a similar scene from the screen entered my view.
'There.'
***
In the end.
I never made contact with the Information Junkie.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
[Moving to the last save point.]
[The most recent save point is AUTO SAVE 4.]
[Devil's Gamble - Horror Tale]
[Death Type]: Assimilation.
[Tip]: Interfering during a gamble is not proper conduct.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
My vision brightened.
Along with the murmuring hallucinations burrowing into my ears, the neon-filled casino scenery came back into view.
I let out a deep breath.
‘...At least I discovered a rule, so maybe that's a relief.’
I'd established it as a rule from what happened when I approached the Information Junkie just now.
Rule 4. Gamble
4-1. During a gamble, you must never interfere until the round ends.
4-2. The moment you try to interfere, you assimilate into the horror tale.
ㄴ This includes calling out a name or title vocally.
4-3. You must wait until the cards are revealed and the result is confirmed.
“…That's something, at least.”
I flexed my fingers to shake off the numbness and replayed what had just happened.
Direct interference during a gamble is forbidden.
To meet the Information Junkie, I had to wait until he finished his game and moved naturally.
But the problem was time.
Poker isn't a game that ends quickly.
A single round could take anywhere from a few minutes to over ten.
And from the chips on the table I'd seen.
It didn't look like it would wrap up fast.
If I assumed the Information Junkie won that round, he'd reach the amount needed for the second floor.
I had no idea how my mental corruption would change by then.
I sighed and opened my mouth.
“…The first run was practically a miracle.”
Back then, consecutive wins drew all the attention, and right on cue, the Information Junkie's round ended, pulling his interest.
Time-wise.
I gauged the position and turned my gaze.
Between the blue-lit table and the Information Junkie's table.
For now.
Waiting until that game ended didn't seem like the right call.
Better to.
Run into him at the entrance to the second floor. That seemed more likely.
'At least the situation isn't totally hopeless.'
I still had time.
If I just gathered enough chips to reach the second floor within that.
'Though that feeling when I lost all my chips was horrific.'
The scene from the final fourth floor flashed back.
All other external means were cut off.
Chess. Russian roulette. The rising tower of chips. And the endless falling memories atop it.
Choosing chess back then wasn't from deep thought.
It was just the game that relied least on luck coming to mind.
But looking back now, it wasn't a random choice.
When I first faced him, an instinctual hunch had struck me.
The moment luck got involved, no strategy would win.
That conviction had grown clearer.
He was growing as the rounds continued. Remembering and reviewing every move I made, accumulating it like data.
Yet strangely, amid that pressure, it wasn't pure despair.
A strong opponent, but not absolute.
The moves I'd made.
The questions I'd thrown out every time.
It wasn't just for memorization.
It was a process of testing and confirming something.
—Not sure if it'll work or not.
I steadied my deep breaths.
If it doesn't...?
'Then I'll loop back and try something else.'
As Gamble Black said.
Defeat is not assumed.
And for me, defeat is a value that never arrives.
***
First run.
I went in cocky.
But botched it and looped back.
"...Hit, you said."
He wouldn't remember now.
Third run.
My pot was bigger, but there was a time limit.
Past a certain time, endless impulses kept me from clear thinking.
Calling hit on 19.
Even now, it was insane.
Or have a beast's heart.
Eighth run.
I felt a subtle incongruity.
Something I couldn't put into words.
I stared at the dealt cards in front of the dealer.
19.
Spade 9 and Club 10.
No firm judgment yet.
Thirteenth run.
The shuffled deck was placed on the table.
As always, the dealer lightly reshuffled it two or three times.
At a glance, perfect randomness.
But—
The more loops stacked up, the same result.
Spade 9, Club 10.
Total 19.
The dealer's flipped card total: 20.
Still a bit short.
But now, it was a little clearer.
What I needed to do.
The game continued after that.
And now.
The casino's cards maintained the same order since the first shuffle strip.
The dealer's shuffling motions were just ritualistic theater.
Why? No idea.
Maybe a 'rule' of the casino.
Or because both player and dealer are human in the end, the horror tale couldn't trust that uncertainty.
Either way, no loss for the horror tale.
No way for dealer or player to know the shuffled order.
Whether the dealer shuffled or not—
It was pure randomness by common sense.
So the horror tale had no need to risk faith.
The moment the dealer's hands stopped.
Two cards thudded heavily onto the table.
That tiny sound echoed through the hall.
Breaking the silence.
A number slipped from my lips.
“…19.”
I slowly opened my closed eyes.
On the table.
♠9, ♦10.
Black suit and red suit side by side.
Proving the sum I'd muttered.