Chapter 190: The Winner
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 190: The Winner
"Not just the casino and the money—now your life belongs to me too, doesn't it?"
As those chillingly playful words rang out, the once-boisterous atmosphere of the casino plummeted into a dead silence.
The elegant, soft music had ceased at some unknown moment, replaced by a cold, mechanical hum. Sharp weapons were drawn from sleeves, walls, and from beneath tables. The once-polite waiters were transformed in an instant into armed thugs.
Even the scantily-clad female dealers produced small repeating crossbows from nowhere, leveling them directly at Muen.
Killing intent saturated the air.
In the blink of an eye, the man who had just won everything found himself trapped in a cage of steel.
"Kid, who the hell do you think I am?"
Sam glared at Muen, the veins on his forehead bulging. "I am Rat King Sam! The last person who dared to cause trouble in my casino has already been gnawed down to the bone by the sewer rats!"
"Cause trouble? How could I possibly be considered the one causing trouble? Mr. Sam, you were the one who agreed to play a few rounds with me. You were the one who decided the rules. You were the one who lost everything. You were even the one who cheated. And yet, now, you are the one who flips the table first."
Muen’s eyes were mocking. "So, who exactly is the one causing trouble?"
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"
Sam’s fury reached a boiling point, his ugly face twisting into a hideous snarl.
When had he ever been toyed with like this?
Never!
From the moment he stepped onto the streets, he had always been the one toying with others!
And more importantly...
Sam’s gaze swept over Muen’s face, and his rage became even harder to suppress.
The one making a fool of him was actually some nouveau riche brat from the Northern Territory?
If word got out that Rat King Sam had been played by a Northern lordling—a group universally mocked as having more money than sense—he would become the laughingstock of the entire Lower District within a day!
He could never allow that to happen.
"Kid, I’ll admit I tripped up this time." Sam let out a cold sneer. "But you’re a newcomer, so you don't seem to understand... In the Lower District, winning and losing has never had anything to do with luck or skill. What decides the winner... is always power!"
Sam hooked his finger around the trigger of his repeating crossbow. This was a military magic repeating crossbow, capable of piercing even the scales of a magical beast. The weight of it finally brought him a modicum of calm. He stared intently at Muen, searching for even a flicker of delightful terror on his face.
But the man surrounded by thugs, the man staring down the barrels of a dozen crossbows, remained perfectly composed.
He even had the leisure to turn his head and scan the scantily-clad dealers, seemingly wondering where they had managed to hide such bulky crossbows on their persons.
"Mr. Sam, I advise you not to do that."
Muen shifted his gaze back, acting as if he didn't see the weapon that could claim his life in a single heartbeat. Instead, he offered a sincere suggestion: "Dangerous things like that can easily hurt someone."
"Fuck you! You're the one I'm hurting!"
Muen’s calm was the final straw for Sam’s patience. Without another moment's hesitation, he pulled the trigger.
Thwip—!
The bolt sliced through the air with a piercing hum.
It struck a forehead with pinpoint accuracy. Bolstered by powerful mana, the bolt instantly detonated the skull, sending a grisly mixture of red and white matter spraying in every direction.
The scent of blood filled the air.
The room fell back into a frozen silence, broken only by a weary sigh.
"Why won't you ever listen to me, Mr. Sam?"
Muen, who had tilted his body slightly to dodge the bolt, adjusted his lopsided top hat and glanced regretfully at the headless corpse behind him.
It was one of the thugs who had tried to block his escape route. Now, he was dead.
Killed by the Rat King’s own crossbow.
"You see? The moment I dodge, he's the one who suffers. I told you it was dangerous. Why didn't you believe me?"
"You motherfucker!"
The Rat King’s expression turned monstrous. He didn't even need to give the order; the dozen or so crossbows surrounding them were already cocked and ready.
You can dodge one, but can you dodge a dozen? I'll turn you into a—
"Wait... Wait! Everyone stop! Stop right now!"
But just as the volley was about to be unleashed, the Rat King’s face underwent a sudden, terrifying transformation. His snarl vanished, replaced instantly by a mask of pure horror.
He stared at Muen’s hand as if he were looking at something impossible. His voice cracked, nearly failing him.
"Everyone stand down! Lower your weapons, now!"
The thugs looked at each other in confusion. They didn't understand why their boss, who could have ended the man with a single word, was suddenly losing his mind.
But since it was the boss’s order, they had no choice but to obey.
The frozen atmosphere thawed, and the killing intent dissipated, replaced by a bizarre, suffocating tension.
Muen smiled mockingly at the sight, his fingers nimbly twirling an object. "It seems you’ve noticed, Mr. Sam."
"When did you..."
Sam stared at Muen’s dancing fingers, his face looking like he’d swallowed ash.
Muen wasn't holding a weapon, nor was he holding some high-yield magic device. Between his fingers was nothing more than a playing card.
A card that Rat King Sam knew very well.
Because that card was supposed to be in the hand he had just discarded—the card that was meant to secure his victory in the gamble.
And yet, there it was, in the hands of the man calling himself Bruce.
And Sam hadn't felt a thing.
Sam instinctively felt his empty sleeve, and as he thought back to how his hand had suddenly changed, he broke into a cold sweat.
If this man could swap and steal his cards without him noticing, it meant...
"I could also kill you before you even have time to react."
Muen finished the thought for him. He smiled and flicked the card, sending it spinning through the air to land right in front of Sam.
"As you said, Mr. Sam, this gamble wasn't actually important. The stakes, the cheating—those were just a bit of flavor for the game. What matters is that you sat down in front of me. You sat within arm's reach. That was enough, wasn't it?"
Sam looked down at the card that still carried his own scent. Every drop of color drained from his face, leaving him paler than the card itself.
"I thought it was just some kind of sleight of hand," he whispered, his voice trembling.
"Ha. Sleight of hand? In a place like a casino, sleight of hand gets exposed very quickly."
"Who... who are you?"
The Rat King looked up, staring at the stranger.
He finally realized that this wasn't some nouveau riche fool with more money than brains. This was a monster from the shadows.
And he had been naive enough to think he could win a gamble against a monster. How was that any different from serving himself up on a dinner plate?
"Bruce Wayne."
The man introduced himself once more. "Just a passing... ordinary citizen."
"An ordinary citizen? Ha! Some 'ordinary citizen' you are."
Sam slumped back into his chair, laughing bitterly. "Fine... let's say you are. So, Mr. Bruce, what do you want from me?"
"Don't worry."
Muen crossed his fingers, offering a warm, gentlemanly smile. "I just need Mr. Sam to do me a small favor."