—————————————————————–
Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: FusionX
—————————————————————–
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Trust Me
The illegal gambling den, Sweet Dessert. Its most ingenious yet vulnerable aspect was its membership system.
It’s so secretive that if you don’t know the procedure, you wouldn’t even realize it’s a casino.
Conversely, if you knew the procedure, it became the easiest candy house to infiltrate. The procedure itself wasn’t complicated. Wear a decent disguise, walk straight towards the owner as if you have no interest in the café, and say:
“I heard you sell the sweetest thing in the world.”
“We don’t have anything like that.”
“I was told you do.”
Deliver these cringe-inducing lines, slip him a gold coin, and you’ll hear:
“Please wait in a room, and we’ll guide you.”
Then, simply enter the fourth of the five rooms in the Sweet Dessert café and wait patiently. After a while, the wall inside the room would disappear, revealing a staircase leading down to the casino. Knowing the procedure was enough verification; even a new face could enter without question.
That means I’m halfway there.
Once inside, the first step was to establish myself as a sucker.
Now’s the perfect time, while Festford and Struite are absent.
If they were present, they would have immediately targeted a newcomer like me, but their absence suggested they were likely holed up in a room, counting their money.
It’s crucial to sit at the table with the highest stakes.
To be seen as a sucker, losing money was important, but I needed someone to amplify that perception. The ideal candidate was someone talkative, loud, wealthy, and influential within the casino.
Like him.
Wang Sang-bak. The wealthiest patron of Sweet Dessert, a nobleman known for his generous nature and surprisingly good gambling skills. His wealth attracted followers, and his noble status made him a desirable acquaintance. The only drawback was the high stakes at his table.
“A new face? We have newcomers at Sweet Dessert?” he boomed as I sat down.
“Haha, pleased to meet you,” I replied.
“I like your smile. Enjoy it while you can; it’s hard to smile after losing money.”
He immediately established himself as the leader of the table, ordering a drink for me. “Gambling is all about having fun. Here, have a drink.”
“Thank you,” I said, accepting the drink.
I pretended to take a sip, subtly pouring the liquid into my sleeve. I wasn’t about to drink something offered by a stranger in a place like this.
Strictly speaking, we’re not strangers.
I’d seen him so often in the game that I felt a strange sense of familiarity.
“A one-shot! I like your style! Now, let’s get this game started!”
“Yes, sir! Let’s begin.”
The dealer waited for Wang Sang-bak’s signal to start or stop the game. He was in control.
“We’ll start with Blackjack.”
“Hurry up, then,” Wang Sang-bak urged, eager to take my money. “I don’t even know your name.”
As expected, he started probing, trying to determine if I was a worthy target.
Right on schedule.
I was pleased that everything was going according to plan.
“I’m Vernove Pars,” I replied, using my prepared alias.
“Pars? Of the Pars family? Really?”
“Haha.”
The key was to respond with an ambiguous laugh, neither confirming nor denying. This would prompt him to speculate, filling in the blanks himself.
“He must be telling the truth… Such a naive fellow, revealing his family name like that. You can’t do that here. Even while playing Blackjack, we’re all trying to deceive each other. You must be new to this place, not knowing the rules.”
“Haha.”
The Pars family. A noble family tasked with defending the northern borders, known for their frequent external activities. They had numerous descendants and a complex history, but the key takeaway was this:
There’s no risk in using their name.
The distance made it unlikely for anyone to verify my claim, and their status was high enough to deter any unwanted attention from Wang Sang-bak.
Just see me as a sucker.
That’s all I needed.
“Let’s continue the game.”
Blackjack was a deceptively simple game, perfect for feigning ignorance. The goal was to get as close to 21 as possible, or hit it exactly. Reaching 21 was called Blackjack, and if you didn’t have it, you could request more cards from the dealer. This meant I could intentionally lose by exceeding 21. The dealer dealt the cards and then asked if anyone wanted more. I simply kept requesting cards, playing the part of a clueless beginner. Wang Sang-bak would take care of the rest.
“Are you new to Blackjack?” he asked, his tone shifting to polite deference after hearing the Pars name.
This money is just an investment.
I continued to lose, strategically betting with the allowance I received from Mirinae and the money I earned at the black market. After three consecutive losses, Wang Sang-bak spoke again.
“Do you want another card?”
“Yes.”
“Blackjack is a game of psychology. You don’t always have to hit 21. You just need to be closer than the others… How can you…”
He continued to offer unsolicited advice, assessing my skills, trying to determine if I was hiding my true abilities or simply managing my bets. He was mentally categorizing me.
Time for some acting.
I feigned frustration, continuing my losing streak. And finally, he said it:
“How about we try a different game? It seems like luck isn’t on your side.”
It sounded considerate, but it was a polite way of saying, “You’ve lost enough, and you’re probably running out of money, so get lost.” It was a clear dismissal, a phrase he often used when identifying a sucker. I nodded and stood up. Everything that followed unfolded seamlessly.
Vernove Pars, hooked on gambling but out of money, wandered over to the slot machines, mindlessly feeding them coins and pulling the lever.
And then, a miracle happened.
The slot machine, notorious for its abysmal payout rate, nicknamed the “pocket change piggy bank,” began showering him with chips.
“What?”
“What’s going on?”
“Is that even possible?”
Starting with five chips, then ten, thirty, a hundred. With every pull of the lever, my winnings multiplied, drawing a crowd. It was an unprecedented sight at Sweet Dessert, attracting everyone’s attention.
The Lucky Seven is designed to take your money. You can’t win by simply playing it.
This was the moment to trigger the jackpot. The method was simple:
Stroke the lever seven times before pulling it. Guaranteed jackpot.
I replicated the action I had performed countless times in the game.
“Seven! Seven! Seven! Seven! Seven!”
“Woo! Woo! Woo! Woo!”
Whirr…
With a sufficient audience, I hit the jackpot.
Cheers erupted, shaking the room.
The Lucky Seven, as if about to explode, spewed forth a torrent of chips. It disgorged not only the designated jackpot payout but also all the accumulated “pocket change” it had devoured since the casino’s opening. Chips poured out until the five slot machines were empty. The defeated gamblers, now mere spectators, scrambled to collect the overflowing chips, neatly piling them for me. I tipped them generously and stuffed the chips into my bag.
“…That was incredible! Greetings, I am Festford. It’s an honor to have such a distinguished guest in our humble establishment. And what a momentous occasion to witness! Might I invite you to our VIP room for a private conversation?”
“Certainly.”
Festford appeared, playing right into my hands.
“This way, please.”
Struite, looking as if he’d seen a ghost, led me to the VIP room. Meanwhile, Festford questioned Wang Sang-bak about my identity, and Wang Sang-bak, fueled by his own assumptions, relayed his fabricated version of my background.
Vernove Pars. A nobleman from the north, visiting for leisure, had hit the jackpot. If I were an unknown, they would have found a way to reclaim the money, but that wasn’t possible. Festford was likely consumed by these thoughts. I suppressed a smirk as I entered the VIP room.
Let them scheme.
They were dancing in the palm of my hand.
++++++++++++
I placed the bag of money on the table. Festford rushed in, having heard the story from Wang Sang-bak. He looked bewildered, glancing between me and the money. I didn’t waste any time.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked, feigning confusion.
Festford, thinking he’d misheard, repeated his question. I leaned back, putting on an arrogant expression.
“I asked if you’d considered legalizing this casino.”
“L…legalizing, sir?”
“Yes.”
Phase two of fleecing Sweet Dessert. Win a large sum of money from the slot machines, secure a private meeting with Festford, and present him with an offer he couldn’t refuse – or at least, pretend to consider.
I’ll use this to my advantage.
How many people could remain calm with half their business on the line? Especially when presented with such an unexpected proposition?
“S…Sweet Dessert is an illegal establishment… A casino near the academy would never be permitted… And…these betting amounts and fees are only possible because it’s illegal… Also…”
Normally, he would have rejected the offer outright, but now, flustered, he couldn’t think straight. Refusing meant I would walk away with the money, and accepting was impossible.
Time to finish this.
I placed my foot on the table, looking down at him with disdain.
“Are you questioning the power of the Pars family?”
“…N…no, sir.”
“Trust me.”
You sucker.
I left that last part unsaid.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇