Chapter 188: The Gamble
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 188: The Gamble
"Now, can you tell me where the Rat King is?"
A second passed.
Crimson flowers blossomed, their petals dissolving into the midnight mist with the passing breeze.
The "ordinary citizen," looking as though he hadn't lifted a finger, stood amidst a field of blood. He maintained his posture, one hand pressing down on his top hat, as he offered Swick a polite, elegant, and composed smile.
He looked like a lost gentleman merely asking for directions.
But to Swick, Muen’s smiling face looked like a demon crawled out of hell. Pale as a ghost, Swick tremblingly raised his repeating crossbow, aiming it directly between Muen’s brows.
Yet the trigger—which usually took only a light squeeze to snuff out a life—felt as if it had been welded shut with molten iron. It wouldn't budge an inch.
"Who... who the hell are you?"
"Sigh, how many times must I introduce myself? I am merely an ordinary citizen passing through."
Muen approached with practiced ease. He reached out, brushed the crossbow aside, and looked down into Swick’s terror-stricken eyes.
"Sir, I am a patient man, so this is the last time I will ask."
His smile slowly faded, and a touch of coldness surfaced on his profound features.
"...Where is Rat King Sam right now?"
"I..."
Swick’s pale lips quivered.
Don't say it, Swick. You can't say it.
You are the Rat King’s confidant!
You are his right hand, his most loyal subordinate!
It is moments like these that define your loyalty!
With a sharp snap, the bowstring of the crossbow suddenly shattered. Muen flicked his fingers, a chilling glint flashing in his eyes.
"Sir..."
"The casino! He’s at the casino!" Swick shrieked in terror. "Sam has a gambling addiction! He can't help but go for a few rounds every night. He’s definitely at the casino right now!"
"Oh? Which casino?"
"The underground casino on Minke Street! I can lead the way! Just don't kill me, I can take you there..."
"Very good."
Muen nodded with satisfaction and offered a polite word of thanks. "Then I shall trouble you to lead."
"It... it is my honor to be of service." Swick squeezed out a smile that looked more painful than crying. He mimicked Muen’s mannerisms, offering a comical, subservient bow.
As expected, the more refined these people look on the surface, the more twisted they are underneath! Just like those noble lords in the Upper District!
*
After dealing with that negligible little nuisance, Muen turned to look at the withered man who was still standing there in a daze.
"Don't kill me, don't kill me..."
Noticing Muen’s gaze, the man began to beg for mercy in terror once more. In his eyes, anyone who could effortlessly slaughter a pack of Rat Society thugs had to be a villain even more vicious than the gang itself.
He was like one of those urban legends lurking in the city's shadows.
However, the expected death did not come. Instead, he felt a warm hand rest gently on his shoulder.
Startled, he looked up. He didn't find the expected brutality or malice. Instead, he met a pair of blue eyes as deep and calm as a lake.
"You said just now that you wanted to be a good person?"
"...Yes," the man nodded blankly. "I am already trying to be a good person."
"That is good."
The man felt a heavy, encouraging pat on his shoulder.
"Very good."
In the distance, a searchlight from a sentry post on the Tower Bridge swept past, casting a brief, blinding beam of light.
Under the man’s stunned gaze, the "ordinary citizen"—who was far more terrifying than any thug—walked past him, gave a casual wave, and disappeared into the depths of the darkness.
Swick followed behind him with a hunched back, cautious and subservient, looking for all the world like a loyal dog.
"Damn it... who says good things don't happen to good people?"
Tears suddenly streamed down the man’s face. He knelt and kowtowed forcefully in the direction Muen had vanished.
"Bruce Wayne..."
He whispered the name with the reverence of a prayer.
*
"You lose."
Inside the opulent, decadent casino, Rat King Sam slammed his hand down and looked disparagingly at the middle-aged man sweating profusely across from him.
"How... how is that possible?"
The middle-aged man slumped into his chair, staring at his cards in disbelief.
"I had three of a kind. How could three of a kind lose?"
"You had three of a kind, but I have four."
Sam tapped the four identical numbers in his hand and let out a cold sneer. "The winner takes it all. Those are the rules of the casino, kid. You aren't thinking of welshing on the debt, are you?"
"I..."
The middle-aged man’s face turned deathly pale. He wanted to say more, but a female dealer in a low-cut miniskirt had already pushed all the chips in front of him over to Rat King Sam.
Just moments ago, confident in his hand and desperate to recoup his losses in one go, he had gone all-in.
Now, all his chips—totaling one million—belonged to the man across the long table. A man as short as a dwarf, yet one whom no one dared to underestimate.
His dream of breaking even or striking it rich had vanished. He had nothing left.
"Wait..."
In his desperation, the middle-aged man lunged forward to grab the last few chips, his lips trembling. "I’m not done yet! Please, give me one more chance! Let me play one more round! I’ll definitely... I’ll definitely win back everything I lost! Please, just one more chance!"
"I don't give out chances."
Sam toyed with the exquisitely crafted chips, which felt far more seductive than paper currency. He chuckled. "One chip costs a thousand Emiels. Everyone is equal here. If you want a comeback, bring more money."
"Money... but where would I get more money? I already mortgaged my house and my land to get the money for tonight! I have nothing left..."
"Is that so? You're out of money?"
Sam sighed with mock regret, then his expression instantly turned fierce. "You're out of money and you're still wasting my damn time? Men, throw him out!"
"Wait... don't drag me away! Don't drag me away! I can get more money! I can get more! Sam! Sam! I can mortgage my daughter to you! And my wife! You can have them both! Just lend me a little more! Just a little! I can feel my luck turning! I’ll win the next one for sure!"
The middle-aged man’s eyes were bloodshot as he struggled against the casino guards, fighting tooth and nail to return to the place that had stripped him of everything.
Sam remained entirely unmoved. He took a deep drag of a cigar offered by a subordinate and spat out a cloud of smoke with a look of disdain.
"Damn it, everyone knows your wife and daughter are hideous beasts. They're uglier than the mud on the bottom of my boots. What the hell would I want them for? To use as a cure for low blood pressure?"
Amidst heart-wrenching wails, the man who had lost everything was tossed out of the casino. No one knew where he would go.
But almost everyone knew he would likely return, clutching money scrounged from god-knows-where, to continue his descent into this bottomless abyss.
"Boss, are we playing more tonight?" a confidant leaned in and whispered.
"Tonight..."
Sam glanced around the casino.
Usually, he wouldn't end things this early.
However, the atmosphere in Belland had been strange lately, causing business at the casino to drop. Looking around, there weren't any "big fish" in sight.
"Forget it."
Sam reached out and gave the dealer’s ample chest a lewd squeeze, grinning wickedly. "Didn't that kid Swick offer up his sister? I’ll go play with something else tonight."
"Understood."
The confidant nodded and turned to make the arrangements.
But at that moment, a dark figure appeared behind the previously empty gambling table.
"Hmm? Is it over already?"
The figure removed his formal coat, placing an ancient ritual staff and a silver case onto the table.
He adjusted his high-topped, wide-brimmed hat and offered Sam a harmless, genial smile.
"The night is still young, Mr. Sam. Care for a few more rounds?"