Guillotine Match
There is a thing called a guillotine match.
It means a contest with no retreat, the kind where one of you has to die for the other to live.
And the man Manager Bang put forward—Dogui—looked every bit the specialist in that sort of game.
The mere sight of him set the gamblers, drunkards, and courtesans of the house murmuring in alarm. He dropped a vicious-looking cleaver between us with a deliberate thud, as if to say, Go ahead and try your little tricks. Whatever sleight-of-hand usually went on at the tables, this man had already seen it all.
Surround the table with martial artists, crush us under Dogui’s reputation and that cleaver, lock our hands, then legally strip us of every coin while half of Beijing watched. Snatch the money by force and there would be a riot; better still if they could catch me cheating mid-game.
“So if someone cheats, the wrist comes off… Naturally that includes your own wrist as well, doesn’t it, Dogui?”
But there was one thing they still didn’t know.
I had not once used sleight of hand. If anything, I had merely accepted the assistance of a certain mischievous spirit.
“You’ve got a smart mouth.”
My taunt rippled through the gambling hall. Cold light flashed in the hollows of Dogui’s eyes. He gave me a thin smile, then flicked a hand at the Mangeum Money House guards. They moved at once, laying out a fresh table. Dogui dropped heavily into his seat.
In the brief lull I turned to Ilhong, who had hurried over with worry written all over her face.
“Hey, who exactly is this Dogui?”
She stared at me as if I had grown a second head.
“…Boss, you challenged him without even knowing that?”
I hadn’t challenged anyone. They had blocked every exit and forced the match. The goat-bearded Manager Bang clearly had no intention of letting me walk out clean. In that case I would use this chance to sever the whole ugly entanglement for good.
“He’s a blood-soaked bastard. Dozens of wrists, they say. A few lives too. And his martial realm is nothing to sneeze at.”
Famous enough in this trade to have earned a proper moniker of his own, Ilhong explained.
Can we win?
I looked down at the crimson hand blooming in my palm. Salsung’s slender fingers began to write across the surface of the tea.
I… will win…
I gave a bitter smile at the spirit’s absolute confidence. Her intent was crystal clear: string me along with easy wins, flood me with the high of sudden fortune, addict me to the game, then drag me down the road of corruption.
But I already saw through her, so none of that was going to happen.
“We’ll take turns shaking the dice cups. Then we begin.”
With so many eyes on us, they would grant me a fair turn at the cups for the sake of appearances. Once the seats were set, Dogui began slowly shaking the two bamboo cups that held the dice.
Clack, clack. The sound of wood and dice rattling together.
“Asura Balbalta…”
I watched and quietly mouthed the chant.
“What the hell is that spell you’ve been muttering?”
“Just something.”
I gave Jo Harang a short answer and kept my eyes on the cups as they struck the table. One cup opened: three, three, three. My dice.
Salsung slipped like a ghost into the opposite cup and checked the result. She held up three fingers, then two. Three, three, two—one point short of mine.
“First hand, so let’s keep it light.”
With an easy smile I pushed forward thirty silver taels and ten gold. Dogui twisted his lips into a crooked smirk at my confident bet. That look said he had something up his sleeve.
“Then let’s open.”
He snatched up the cup. A tense hush fell over the hall. Three, three, four—one pip higher than mine. The crowd began to stir.
“Heh, Dogui took it.”
“First time I’ve seen that young master lose money.”
“Even a lucky streak can’t beat Dogui, I guess…”
Sighs rose all around at the handsome young lord’s first defeat after a string of wins. Whispers of “Dogui is still Dogui” floated from every corner. And on Manager Bang’s face, watching from the side, spread a smile of pure victory.
Salsung… did you just lie to me?
I glared at the red palm that had so confidently flashed “three-three-two.” Salsung flared with indignant crimson and shook her hand left and right.
No… you idiot…
Before the cup was lifted the numbers had favored me. The instant Dogui raised it, the result flipped. Salsung traced shapes in the air, insisting the man had used some trick.
“Your turn to shake.”
Half-believing her, I shook the cups and set them down. My side showed ordinary faces. Salsung still guaranteed victory and urged me to bet big; I shoved a thick stack of gold forward.
“Mind if I open my own cup?”
I narrowed my eyes at Dogui’s suggestion, then nodded—better to watch whatever stunt he pulled. He grinned, seized the cup, and lifted. Once again the win went to him, against Salsung’s word. One pip decided it; every coin on the table vanished into his hands.
A strange tension settled over the gambling house. Worry began to cloud the spectators’ eyes when they looked at me.
That bastard… inside the cup… tricks…
Salsung’s fingers flew in urgent explanation. After the money was down, in the split second he gripped the cup to open it, he slipped a thread of inner force inside and jostled the dice. To control qi that finely, without the slightest outward sign—this had left the realm of mere gambling and entered true martial mastery.
So he’s a real expert.
The rumors Ilhong had heard were true. Watching him freely project force only confirmed it.
“Hss.”
I drew a long breath. No matter how perfectly Salsung read the dice, the moment Dogui touched the cup the result twisted. And since we were alternating who opened, I was guaranteed to lose every other hand.
“Boss… you can actually still win, right?”
Even Ilhong had started to doubt. She had the nerve to suggest I hand her the money before I lost the rest. Beyond Dogui, the goat-bearded Manager Bang’s smile only grew thicker. The sight made my blood boil.
Then Salsung began writing on the tea again—trust me, the message said. The sight suddenly reminded me of the time she had written on dirt and I had casually scuffed the letters away with my foot.
Can you move the dice too?
If she could stir tea and scratch words in earth, then some tiny physical interference should be possible.
Maybe… a little shake…
Seeing that I was more likely to be cleaned out than corrupted, she had grown surprisingly cooperative.
That’s enough.
Thud. Dogui set the cups down. Two straight wins already painted his face with smug satisfaction.
“All that big talk, and you’re nothing special.”
He tossed my earlier taunt straight back at me.
“Still just warming up.”
“Hmph. Spare me the nonsense and put your money down.”
“Yes, yes.”
If this worked, the counterattack began now. I had to take a fat pile before he noticed the change. So I pushed a truly heavy stack of gold into the center.
Even after consecutive losses I was still betting hard; Dogui’s eyes flashed with suspicion. Confidence or bluff? He studied me, then snorted as if it no longer mattered. The man clearly trusted his own hands completely.
“That kid’s putting up way too much.”
“The other side is Dogui—Dogui! Somebody stop him!”
“What’s he even counting on?”
The gallery’s reaction matched Dogui’s. Pitying voices murmured that I was being reckless. But the most dangerous moment in any gambling house is the instant a gambler becomes certain of victory.
“Asura… Balbalta.”
I whispered the chant.
The second Dogui shot force into the cup, Salsung gave the dice an identical shake. The red hand reversed the result and slipped free.
Dogui, still wearing his triumphant grin, lifted the cup—and his face turned to stone.
“…What?”
His eyes flew wide. Shock crossed his features.
“…The young master won?”
“Against Dogui?”
“Ha… well I’ll be damned.”
A green youth beating the seasoned Dogui sent the entire hall into stunned silence.
“Much obliged.”
I raked in the gold with an easy smile. The bold wager more than doubled everything I had lost so far.
“You little bastard… what trick did you pull…”
Dogui demanded an answer with shaking eyes. Funny how they always start the cheating, then act outraged when someone else does it. I only shrugged, as if I had nothing to say.
Manager Bang immediately glued himself to Dogui’s side, face urgent.
“What the hell just happened? You said you could flatten trash like him without breaking a sweat!”
The rebuke landed hard.
“…I don’t know. Perhaps I made a mistake.”
Dogui clenched his teeth and bowed his head.
“A mistake means you’ll win the next one, yes?”
“Of course…”
His pride had taken a vicious hit. He glared at me with burning eyes and swore victory. Hearing that certainty, Manager Bang summoned the vault keeper for even larger gambling funds.
See…? You saw…?
The effort had clearly drained her; Salsung’s voice came through exhausted. Ironic that she would work so hard just to corrupt me.
Yeah. I saw.
I grinned and nodded. The little parasite was turning out to be useful in all sorts of ways.
“Oi. One more round.”
Dogui slammed the cups down and demanded a rematch with a sinister glint in his eye.
“Brought more money? Then by all means, sit.”
Who exactly did he think was going to flinch? With the house war chest now on the table, the stakes would only climb higher. Dogui’s reputation and a mountain of gold—an all-or-nothing clash. Spectators swallowed hard on my behalf and grew tense.
Clack, clack.
As some famous saying goes, the dice were cast.
Trust… me…
But the Heavenly Killing Star does not play dice games.
Which meant this was simply the hour of a hero and a scoundrel thoroughly fleecing a certain money house.
“Bring wine and meat!”
In the glittering main hall of the Mangeum Money House, Geum Hwangdo sought liquor and side dishes to soothe his increasingly foul mood. Graceful courtesans filed in to pour, yet his expression refused to lighten.
“Useless cook bastard. Can’t even slip poison properly.”
By rights his grand dream should already have come true: crush both the merchant group and the escort agency, then swallow their money and logistics whole. Instead the cook had botched the job, and the woman who ought to be lying at death’s door like her father was sending him formal letters of protest.
“That little bitch, no bigger than a mouse, now dares lecture me just because she inherited the merchant group.”
Nothing was going right. Geum Hwangdo ground his teeth and raged. If she had simply collapsed into a coma, everyone’s lives would have been simpler. With that ugly thought he drained a harsh cup in one go.
Then came the clamor of hurried footsteps outside.
Thud-thud-thud.
One of his subordinates burst into the room without even announcing himself, gasping for breath.
“…What is it?!”
Why so frantic? Had that Eun Hwaran hag finally swallowed the poison after all? Geum Hwangdo pricked up his ears for the good news he had been waiting for. What left the subordinate’s mouth, however, was not glad tidings but unexpected disaster.
“W-we’re in trouble! The gambling house—the gambling house is—”
“The gambling house is what?!”
He snapped when the man stammered.
“Some pretty-boy gigolo is cleaning us out! The place is being demolished as we speak!”
“…What did you just say?”
The wine cup slipped from his fingers.
Geum Hwangdo swept the drinking table aside with a crash and surged to his feet. He had been waiting for the fall of Eun Hwaran and the Eunseong Merchant Group; the bitter irony was that his own gambling house had collapsed first.
“Which son of a bitch dares…”