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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: FusionX
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Festford found himself in the biggest predicament of his life.
How much is that?
He had to recover it.
Damn it…I never thought this would happen.
The five Lucky Seven slot machines shared a common chip storage. This design was meant to simplify collection, but he hadn’t anticipated this outcome. When a jackpot was triggered, all the chips in the connected storage were released, meaning the combined reserves of all five machines had been emptied.
I kept putting off emptying them, and now look what happened.
The Lucky Seven machines, used by the wealthy to dispose of their loose change, had amassed a considerable fortune. Small amounts added up. Judging by the size of the bag, Festford estimated the loss at roughly half his total assets.
Is this beginner’s luck?
He didn’t know the exact odds of hitting the Lucky Seven jackpot, but it was akin to being struck by lightning eighteen times in a row under a clear sky. For such an improbable event to happen to a nobleman visiting from the north? It was unbelievable. He wanted to search the man, to discover how he’d done it, but he couldn’t. Wang Sang-bak had already filled him in on the Pars family’s status and influence. Ignorance had been bliss; knowing only that the man was a nobleman hadn’t been intimidating, but learning the details had made him shrink back like a turtle.
“Could I have a moment to think?” he asked, unable to confront the middle-aged nobleman who sat arrogantly with his feet on the table, stroking his beard.
He needed time, to prolong the moment, hoping to find a solution. But the nobleman seemed to sense his hesitation, tilting his head with a displeased expression.
“Since when can a nobleman’s offer be put on hold? I’m extending you a special favor.”
I could walk away with this money at any time.
“…”
Festford felt increasingly disoriented with every word the nobleman uttered. His logic was impeccable, and Festford felt trapped, caught in a snare.
A snare?
He recalled Wang Sang-bak mentioning that northern nobles were strict about the law, using criminals as bait for magical beasts, tying them up with snares. The nobleman’s unconcealed predatory aura suddenly made sense. It stemmed from experience. Festford shuddered, imagining himself as bait, caught in the nobleman’s trap. Faced with the loss of half his assets and the nobleman’s implied threat to leave, even the seasoned Festford had to surrender.
“…I’ll do it,” he conceded.
“Good. I’ll be actively assisting you, so listen carefully and follow my instructions.”
The question, “How about…?” had transformed into a command: “Legalize the casino.” The nobleman’s words had taken root in Festford’s mind. Faced with money and power, Festford’s carefully constructed arrogance crumbled, replaced by the subservience of a commoner. Unknowingly, he had become a puppet, dancing to the nobleman’s tune.
“I’ll do everything I can. What should I do first?”
“Don’t rush. I’ll take care of everything. You seem awfully eager.”
“I apologize!”
A perfect hierarchy. Obedience. The roles were clearly established in Festford’s mind.
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Easy.
Money and power often rendered logic irrelevant. If one couldn’t enforce their will through reason, then money and power dictated the terms. Festford’s usual sharp business acumen, based on rational deductions, had been clouded by the potential loss of half his assets.
The complexities of legalization, the taxes on his earnings, the unsuitable location – these concerns were overshadowed by his desperate desire to reclaim the money.
Using the Pars name further is risky.
A long tail gets caught. It was wiser to downplay the Pars family connection, making it seem like a given, rather than constantly invoking their name, adding unnecessary explanations that might raise suspicion.
Like a true nobleman, born and bred in the north, I acted the part.
“First, get me a simple spatial pouch. That bag is too cumbersome. Have that skinny fellow fetch one.”
“A spatial pouch, sir?”
“Yes, the one enchanted with advanced inventory magic.”
“I…I understand.”
“And if you try anything funny with the pouch…well, I trust you’ll consider the consequences.”
I delivered the veiled threat, fixing him with a stare. It was crucial that only Festford and I were present. Any other witness might realize something was amiss.
It’s better that Struite isn’t here. No one is easier to fool than someone who thinks they’re clever.
Festford would undoubtedly be racking his brain, trying to determine if this was legitimate, if it made sense, clinging to his obsession with money even in his confusion. Having experienced worse, he would believe he could handle this, concluding that the best way to weather a storm was to hide, not confront it.
“Now, gather the following.”
“Yes, sir!”
“The tax documents, the ledgers, and all the readily available cash, not just what’s currently in circulation.”
“Y…yes, sir?”
He was falling into the trap, step by step.
“‘Yes sir?’ Do you have a problem?”
“N…no, sir.”
Instead of explaining why I needed these things, I stared at him as if to say, “This is how we legalize the casino. What’s the issue?” My demeanor suggested that if he simply followed my instructions, everything would work out.
Time to add some spice.
If he obediently complied just to recover half his assets, he might suspect something. I softened my approach, offering a benevolent smile.
“I understand. This must be unsettling. I’m simply concerned that such a delightful establishment might disappear due to its illegal status.”
I instilled a sense of urgency, the threat of being reported and losing everything. I reminded him of the worst-case scenarios he had been ignoring in his pursuit of success.
“That’s why I’m not simply taking this money and leaving. I want to reinvest it in Sweet Dessert, to ensure its longevity.”
This was the justification for my actions. He had requested this meeting, but I was now leading the conversation. I explained why I was going through the trouble of legalizing the casino, rather than simply taking the money.
Because it’s fun.
There was no need for elaborate explanations. A nobleman seeking to legalize a casino for purely altruistic reasons would be suspicious. I simply wanted to continue enjoying this entertainment, to ensure that Sweet Dessert wouldn’t disappear when I returned. Having lost money and then won a jackpot, claiming boredom was impossible.
“And don’t worry about the details. Just follow my lead, and everything will be taken care of. Now, hurry up and have someone fetch those things.”
I finished with a touch of aristocratic impatience. Festford, looking as if he’d grasped a lifeline, nodded eagerly, barking orders. Fetch this, buy that, prepare the carriage.
“Everything’s ready!”
He gathered the items and rushed me outside. Eager to legalize his casino, he accompanied me to the tax office, where I delivered the final blow.
“I’m here to report an illegal gambling operation.”
“Huh?”
“What?”
Festford stared blankly, the guards confused by the sudden turn of events. With such slow reactions, how could they possibly be competent? I restrained Festford, pinning his arms behind his back, and repeated my statement.
“I’m reporting an illegal gambling den. I happened upon this criminal activity and decided to report it.”
The guards, finally understanding, rushed to open the doors, shouting for backup.
“Huh?”
For the still-bewildered Festford, I offered a parting gift, a small token of our time together.
“Don’t trust people so easily.”
Especially not someone like me.
I didn’t bother leaving that last part unsaid. Now I could.
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Lmao