The Shell Game Master -1
The moment the great table was laid out, the gamblers abandoned their own games and flocked to Ho Cheon-an's board.
Sajeok finished the last of his tobacco and prepared to join them as well.
Just entertainment, then.
To gamblers, the reason a table opened hardly mattered. The rich throwing money around was simply part of daily life in a place like this.
Whether he wants to test that man's skill or prove his own, I can't say… but he doesn't look like some nobody.
If he got washed out by the gamblers crowding the table, that was simply how it went. Sajeok meant it sincerely. Gambling leaned heavily on luck, and anyone who survived long enough as a professional had tasted both extreme fortune and extreme misfortune more times than they could count.
The more seasoned the gambler, the less they expected from luck — and the less they were crushed by it. The fact that he had been smoking tobacco in the back of the hall was nothing more than a run of bad luck, nothing else.
Hm?
Every gambler in the room had risen to watch Ho Cheon-an's table — every gambler except one. Cheongseo remained in his seat.
Sajeok walked over to him.
"Come on, hyung-nim. Skipping a table that big isn't like you. Whatever happened, is the great Cheongseo of all people just going to let a board like that pass him by? If not, then I'll take your—"
Sajeok cut himself off mid-sentence. Without warning, Cheongseo had reached out and seized his arm.
Cheongseo looked up at him in silence, but Sajeok could read the emotion in those eyes perfectly well.
Fear.
Sajeok could not understand what had reduced Cheongseo to this state.
"You were lucky."
"What the hell are you talking about? You mean not getting hauled off when the rest of them got arrested?"
Sajeok's face twisted. Now that he had seen what had become of the gamblers who were taken, he was glad he had been left behind — but the truth was, his pride still smarted over the officials who had ignored him.
They had rounded up every gambler of any reputation in Luoyang. So why leave him? Did that not make him look like some worthless small fry not even worth the trouble? They had taken men with less fame and worse skill than him, and left him sitting here?
"Don't go up against that man."
Sajeok looked down at the arm Cheongseo was gripping. The pressure was so fierce his forearm ached. Through that crushing grip alone, he could feel how deep Cheongseo's terror ran. He swallowed dryly.
"What is he, that you're like this…?"
Cheongseo only shook his head, lips pressed tight. Watching the man who could not even bring himself to speak, Sajeok pried the hand free. He still did not understand the full picture, but there was clearly some connection between that man and whatever had left Cheongseo — and the other gamblers who had been taken — in this broken state.
"You— you!"
"Don't worry about it, hyung-nim. I don't know exactly what that bastard did to put you all in this condition, but I figure I ought to get a taste of him myself. If the chance comes, I'll settle a little of your grudge while I'm at it."
Thwack!!
"Aaaagh!"
A crisp, ringing crack, and a gambler clutched his forehead and rolled across the floor. The surrounding gamblers cried out in protest.
"He's trying to kill people!"
"Isn't that going too far?!"
Ho Cheon-an let their complaints wash past one ear.
"For a pot of several dozen gold nyang, a hit like that is practically a bargain."
"Are you all right? Let me see!"
The gamblers hauled the fallen man upright. A lump the size of a thumb had swollen dead-center on his forehead.
"Pff—!"
"Kh—!"
Watching the others barely choke back their laughter, the red-faced gambler shook off their supporting hands and fled. The shame burned hotter than the pain.
Once the wave of laughter passed, the remaining gamblers exchanged cautious glances. Having just watched a man get cleaned out and humiliated in an instant, none of them were eager to charge in blindly.
Even so, a second challenger stepped forward before long.
"I'll take him this time!"
The second gambler also chose Golpae — and lost in a heartbeat.
Crack!
"Ack!"
The third gambler applied for a dice duel.
Crack!
"Urgh!"
When the third gambler hit the floor as well, the mood among the onlookers shifted.
"In a dice duel, that one-sided…"
"Is something like that even possible?"
And when the fourth and fifth challengers were demolished just as swiftly, not a single gambler left was willing to step in front of Ho Cheon-an.
Watching them mill about and mutter among themselves, Heukmyo frowned. They had come to the gambling hall said to draw the finest gamblers in all of Luoyang — and not one of them had the skill to draw a real reaction out of Ho Cheon-an?
Just as the stalemate dragged on—
"All right then. How about a game with me!"
Sajeok pushed through the crowd and planted himself before Ho Cheon-an.
"Looks like you can actually gamble. Those men had some skill of their own, and you still beat them that easily."
"If you're going to play, set the board."
Ho Cheon-an had no interest in whatever Sajeok wanted to say. All he wanted was to finish this and get out of here as fast as possible.
Even under that blatant cold shoulder, Sajeok did not so much as flinch. He kept talking, swirling his cup.
"From what I can tell, you seem connected to the gamblers who were dragged off to the magistrate's office a few days ago. How about a little wager—"
"Are you playing or not? If not, get lost."
Sajeok's eyebrow twitched. Ho Cheon-an smirked right back at him.
"You should be grateful just to sit at a table where you can walk away with several dozen gold nyang. And you dare try to attach conditions?"
"…Fine."
Sajeok ground his teeth and set down his cup and dice. It was true that, from his position, joining a table this heavily stacked in his favor was pure profit. So he decided he would strip every last gold coin first, then open a new table and ask his questions under those terms.
He had never intended to half-ass this from the start, but now Sajeok clenched his fist, fully ablaze with competitive fire.
"Twenty-five chips. The game is Yabawi. Who goes first?"
"You first."
Without another word, Sajeok launched straight into the shell game.
"Ohh, finally Sajeok steps up."
"Luoyang's finest Yabawi player at last…"
"That arrogant bastard! Flatten his nose for us!"
At last, someone real. Heukmyo's eyes lit up as she locked onto Ho Cheon-an's reaction. Of all the gambling techniques she had seen from him, which one had she watched the most? Yabawi. When Tang Do-gyeong first arrived at the Wanderer Inn, the two of them had dueled at it for a full hour every single day.
Compared to the Yabawi that had toyed with Super-Peak expert Tang Do-gyeong by the hour, this fell short — but it was clearly on a different level from the gamblers who had come before.
Heukmyo pieced the situation together from the scraps Sajeok had let slip earlier.
Hyeok Gi-rin's older brother gathered gamblers to face Ho Cheon-an, didn't he? A great many were brought in, and something went wrong afterward.
Connecting what she had heard from Hyeok Gi-rin about the events at the Imperial Palace with the scene before her, Heukmyo worked through the logic. If every gambler of real standing in Luoyang had truly been conscripted back then, that would explain why only the dregs remained now.
Then this man is the only hope left.
Why Sajeok had been left behind also became clear in an instant. Because he was a master of Yabawi. Since the Imperial Family had orchestrated the whole affair, it would have been handled through the Directorate of Palace Attendants or the Eastern Depot — and they would have analyzed Ho Cheon-an's gambling techniques as well.
Anyone looking at Senior's main specialty would know it's Yabawi.
The Super-Peak expert of the Tang Clan, Tang Do-gyeong. The Super-Peak expert of the Jeomchang Sect, Yeo Il-ye. And the Yabawi performance before Hwanggeumga that had completely fooled a massive crowd. Anyone who had that information would reasonably conclude that, in Yabawi at least, there was no chance of winning.
So they had left any gambler whose primary game was Yabawi alone — no matter how skilled.
In the end, is this man the only one in this hall who might draw out Senior Ho's true skill?
Under the weight of every expectant gaze, Sajeok's Yabawi climbed toward its peak — and finally stopped.
"As expected! Sajeok's Yabawi is a masterpiece every time!"
"From the middle on, you just zone out watching it!"
The gamblers who had watched erupted in admiration. Sajeok's Yabawi had that kind of power. Even knowing full well that you should be tracking the die, his passionate handwork somehow stole your focus — until you found yourself watching the man shuffling the cups instead of the die itself.
Hyeok Gi-rin murmured without thinking.
"It resembles his."
"It really does."
Heukmyo agreed with the assessment. Sajeok's Yabawi felt different from Ho Cheon-an's, but the direction was similar. Ho Cheon-an's Yabawi was a continuous chain of tension. The controlled pacing, the die constantly slipping through blind spots — it never let you relax.
He pointed at the moon with one hand, and even knowing the trick, you still had to look at the pointing finger. That was Ho Cheon-an's Yabawi. He dangled irresistible bait and, in the gaps it created, executed bold moves again and again.
Hyeok Gi-rin, who had never truly watched high-level gambling before, lacked the understanding to see it. But Heukmyo, watching Sajeok's performance, felt it instinctively. This was technique on a level that rivaled the Yabawi Ho Cheon-an usually displayed.
If gambling had realms of its own, then in Yabawi at least, Sajeok and Ho Cheon-an stood on the same ground.
Heukmyo herself had lost track of the die, after all.
I don't know how far apart their raw skill and ability might be… but at least someone capable of standing against Senior Ho has appeared.
Heukmyo pulled every scrap of attention she had been giving Sajeok and fixed it entirely on Ho Cheon-an. The real face she had come to see might finally show itself.
Once the surrounding cheers and noise settled, Ho Cheon-an tossed out a single chip and spoke in a thoroughly uninterested tone.
"Left."
Sajeok's expression hardened. With the same halfhearted air, Ho Cheon-an reached out and tipped over the left cup. The die was inside.
"What…?"
"Coincidence? Did he actually see it?"
The gamblers stirred. They understood perfectly well what the first round of a Yabawi match meant. Had Sajeok held back his techniques — or had Ho Cheon-an seen through every single one?
"Looks like you've shown me everything you've got, so next time I attack I'll put twenty chips on it and end this. Do your best."
At that declaration, fire sparked in Sajeok's eyes. Compared to other games, Yabawi's rules were crude. Ten chips, twenty chips — you could bet as much as you wanted. Most other games had a betting process that let both sides control the pot. Yabawi did not.
"All mouth, aren't you. Don't forget those words apply to you as well."
Ho Cheon-an snorted and rolled the die under the center cup. As a starting gesture, he lifted the cup high to confirm the die was there, then took the center and left cups in one hand and swapped their positions.
Then he took the center and right cups in one hand and rolled them half a turn.
"Done."
"Th-that…!"
"Is he insane?"
Several gamblers exploded at the complete absence of effort in Ho Cheon-an's shuffle. What was that supposed to be? The cups weren't even spaced evenly — they sat crooked, front to back and side to side. There was no rule requiring neat placement, but when you sat across from another person, there was such a thing as basic courtesy!
But Sajeok, who should have felt the insult most keenly, did not erupt.
He sat perfectly still, staring at the cups.
It was definitely there.
He desperately did not want to admit it, given how halfhearted that shuffle had looked — but there had clearly been a blind spot in Ho Cheon-an's handwork.
A blind spot that would never have existed if he hadn't gripped two cups in one hand. If the motion had been fast, it would have been nothing more than a simple gap. But by shuffling slowly with one hand, that gap had been perfected into a true blind spot.
Center and left had mixed. Then the mixed center and right had mixed. Both actions had produced blind spots — which meant, in the end, the die could be under any of the three cups.
Sajeok set down three chips.
"Left."
Ho Cheon-an only shrugged and gestured. Reading that attitude, Sajeok took hold of the left cup.
Ho Cheon-an's lounging arrogance was nothing worth complaining about at a gambling table. Unless you directly harmed your opponent or hurled insults, most forms of psychological provocation and pressure were fair game.
Shuffling with one hand was the barest minimum of a technique. It was also a dead card — one you would never use again. Once you started playing in earnest, who could run a full Yabawi match with only one hand? He had cleared the first round with nothing but that dead card, which meant Sajeok had already lost the exchange of techniques.
Sajeok had bet left as a confirmation. Creating a blind spot and actually using that blind spot to perfectly mix the cups were two different things. He needed to be certain whether Ho Cheon-an was merely capable of generating blind spots — or whether he had the skill to exploit them.
If Ho Cheon-an had failed to move the die inside the cups, it should still be on the left.
"It's not there?"
"He actually moved it?"
The gamblers' eyes went wide. There was truly no die under the left cup. In that halfhearted, one-handed, clumsy-looking roll, the die had genuinely traveled between cups.
Absurd skill. Ho Cheon-an had already crushed five gamblers, but the Yabawi technique he had just displayed was on an entirely different plane.
Sajeok had no choice but to acknowledge that Ho Cheon-an possessed skill equal to — or greater than — his own.
This is going to be a long fight.
Thinking that, Sajeok took hold of the cups. He had shown only moderate technique in the first round to gauge his opponent's level. From this round on, he would go all out.
"Chahaaap!"
A passionate shout so fierce that even the listeners felt strength surge into their own bodies — and with it, Sajeok's cups began to move.
A scorching motion, as if fire had caught on both hands and cups alike!
It looks like a fire dance.
Heukmyo felt the same sensation she got watching acrobats whirl torches for a dazzling show. Was this the realm that top-tier gamblers could reach? The cups Sajeok was shuffling now carried something that went beyond mere Yabawi technique.
When a Murim master poured his soul into his martial arts, it was called the Martial Soul.
Then what Sajeok was displaying now held a Gambling Soul.
Even Heukmyo — who had resolved to watch only Ho Cheon-an's reactions — found her gaze pulled in by Sajeok's movement. She forgot she was supposed to track the die inside the cups and lost herself in the man's bodywork. She was drawn into the dance-like lightness of it, focused on the passion radiating from his fingertips.
Tak!
Damn…
Heukmyo gave a bitter smile. Right up until the cups stopped, she had done nothing but watch, completely absorbed. Feeling a touch of admiration for Sajeok's movement, she turned her eyes back to Ho Cheon-an.
"Ooooh!"
"So this is the handwork of Luoyang's finest Yabawi player!"
"Even that bastard can't do anything about this!"
"You truly are the greatest shell-game master!"
Sajeok lifted his hands from the cups with a satisfied smile at the surrounding reaction. Somehow, today was a day when his techniques landed especially well. It was not unheard of, either. When was the last time he had faced a Yabawi player of this caliber?
That recent fellow wasn't a bad opponent either, but it's different from a head-to-head match in your main specialty.
Ho Cheon-an had not shown so much as a flicker of agitation, but Sajeok was certain. At the very least, there had been no sign of him tracking the die with his eyes — and despite that absence of any tell, Sajeok had poured every ounce of caution and effort into the round. That arrogant brat, saying he'd end it in one go next attack? The words he had thrown out would strangle him.
Sajeok was convinced Ho Cheon-an had failed to locate the die, and equally convinced that the man would not dare place the high bet he had announced earlier. A gambler of that level would never make a reckless play without certainty.
In the end, only Ho Cheon-an's face would be ruined. Thinking that, Sajeok was just starting to smile—
"Twenty chips. Center."
A cold voice that dragged the heated atmosphere down in a single stroke.
Ho Cheon-an flicked his fingers and tipped over the center cup — the one Sajeok's hand had just left.
The die was inside.
The gamblers who had been roaring for Sajeok's Yabawi fell silent in an instant. Sajeok reeled from the shock.
And then—
Thwack!
Into that chilled silence, a clear, ringing crack resounded.