Player No. 50, Jung Yeong-min, pushed forward his towering stack of chips and flipped over his two cards.
Muted gasps rippled through the crowd — even those who had already folded couldn't resist craning their necks.
— Ohhh, Jack of Spades and Jack of Diamonds! He's aiming for four of a kind! If the next community cards are a Seven or Nine, he'll have a full house!
At the table, No. 41 Kwak Du-won bit the filter of his cigarette and shook his head slightly.
— Two cards can change everything.
He slowly revealed his own — Ten of Spades and Eight of Diamonds.
— Almost a straight up to the Jack, — someone whispered.
Player No. 44 leaned back in his chair and snorted.
— Told you he was chasing a straight.
— And what about Mr. Kaleb? — No. 42 glanced at Seonyeong.
He smiled faintly and laid his cards on the table.
— Ace of Clubs and Ten of Clubs.
— If the Queen and King of Clubs come out, that's a royal flush — a dream hand, — someone remarked.
Kwak Du-won chuckled.
— Fairy-tale talk. If only it were that easy.
No. 42 laughed.
— Ha-ha-ha! You've got quite the competitive spirit, 41.
— If anyone hits a royal flush, it means they were played, — Kwak smirked. — Dealer, show the turn.
The line carried an edge — as if the mere appearance of a Queen and King would make Seonyeong a cheat.
He only exhaled softly.
If I really had a royal flush, I'd be the prey, not the hunter. Cheating isn't my game — not yet.
A face is the most fickle mirror — the blink of an eye, the tremor of lips, the pause of breath — everything betrays thought.
But people rarely notice such micro-signals, too absorbed in their own nerves.
Seonyeong's senses, sharper than human, saw them as though highlighted by invisible light.
He didn't need hypnosis to read opponents.
Your cards are an open data stream to me.
The dealer flipped the next card. A Three of Diamonds gleamed on the felt.
Jung Yeong-min exhaled in disappointment. Kwak Du-won — in relief.
— Hmph. Young man, you're behind, yet look as calm as if you'd won, — Kwak observed.
— Nerves don't improve cards, — Seonyeong replied without irony.
— A philosopher, then… Dealer, next card.
A soft rustle. The fifth card — Two of Clubs.
The hall erupted — joy, frustration, astonishment, all at once.
A flush. Five clubs — an iron-clad victory.
In an instant, every straight and triple collapsed into dust.
The win belonged to No. 47.
— N-no way… — Jung Yeong-min blinked as the world fell apart around him.
— Just luck, — Seonyeong said gently. — The line between a straight and a trip is thin.
The dealer counted chips; beside 47's name the display flared 185.
₩1.85 billion — a new balance.
Others dropped to 90, some to 60.
— Mr. Kaleb, you're young but play like a veteran, — said No. 42 with respect. — Have you competed before?
— Rarely. Gambling isn't my career.
The mystery only deepened.
Who was he — a hired gun or a millionaire seeking amusement?
A bell chimed — three a.m. The first day was over.
Seonyeong rose.
— See you tomorrow.
Kwak Du-won stood too.
— Hey, kid. Sit at my table tomorrow. I checked — if both sides agree, we can switch. Don't vanish.
A blend of challenge and fondness colored his voice.
— Deal, — Seonyeong said calmly, feeling the eyes following him as he left the hall.
***
Back in his room, he tore off his glasses and tossed them into a drawer before collapsing onto the bed.
His body ached, his mind buzzed.
Lo Dan's cheerful voice burst through his earpiece:
— Wow, hyung, you crushed them! And you said you couldn't play!
— I practiced, — Seonyeong murmured.
— Practiced?! Looked like you were reading their minds! I watched from Yi Hoon's cam — your eyes weren't glowing, so no hypnosis. Jihan-hyung would've noticed right away.
— …Kang Jihan already back in Korea?
— Yeah. Chairman Goo called him in.
— Got it.
— Ooh, worried about your beloved? — Lo Dan teased.
— Keep talking and I'll mute you while I shower.
— Ha-ha, okay! By the way, I compiled dossiers on everyone caught on camera. Sending them to your mail.
— Everyone?
— Yup! Starting with Kwak Du-won — sixty-three, head of Tae-yeon Shipping. Used to be a gang front, now a legit company. Has an older brother, father's ninety-two.
— Hm. Maybe he wants the prize to prolong his father's life?
— Ha! More like he's scared of losing his mind like the old man. Be careful with him, hyung.
— Understood. Out.
He removed the earpiece and set it on the table. A president with a criminal past — could be a useful contact someday.
He was heading for the shower when his phone vibrated.
The name on the screen made him freeze: Kang Jihan.
"Played well?"
Such a simple message, yet warmth spread through his chest.
He smiled and typed: "Of course."
The reply came almost instantly:
"Shame I couldn't see it."
"Then come watch yourself."
"After the tournament. See you in Korea."
He stared at the screen for a long time, feeling that strange, quiet joy of talking with someone for no reason at all.
***
Nothing unusual — and yet the day crackled with energy.
Seonyeong, at his peak, swept table after table.
Sighs, subtle gestures, trembling fingers — he read them like open code.
The camera glasses were only a backup for the operations center.
Even Lo Dan muttered: "He sees everything without help…"
By evening, the stakes soared.
Players who'd already lost billions began buying in again, as if addicted to another chance.
— Just a bit more and I'm in the top ten! — muttered Park Byung-taek, currently seventh. — Hey, Mr. Kaleb, let's raise the heat! Small blind one hundred million, big blind two hundred. No limit!
Maniac, Seonyeong thought calmly.
— As you wish, — he replied softly.
On the board beside his name, CALEB CHOW, glowed 953 — ₩9.53 billion. Fewer than forty players remained.
The air in the Jade Hall trembled with tension.
Even those who'd lost now crowded around his table — to watch the favorite play.
The dealer dealt. Seonyeong lifted the corner of his cards: Three of Hearts and Four of Clubs — nothing special.
But Park Byung-taek's grin said he was holding something big.
— Raise, forty, — said No. 8, Bae Yeong-ju.
— Raise, eighty, — Park interrupted immediately.
Others exchanged glances. Seonyeong simply nodded.
— Then I'll add three hundred twenty.
The chips hit the felt with a dull thud.
Four billion. The crowd froze.
Park paled, then set his jaw. Ace and King of Diamonds — excellent hand.
If a Queen or any diamond landed, his flush would be complete.
Maybe he's chasing a straight? he wondered, glancing toward the waiter — Yi Hoon — standing behind.
Not looking at him… must be using another trick?
Seonyeong almost laughed.
He thinks Yi Hoon's feeding me signals.
Flop — Eight of Diamonds, Jack of Diamonds, Ten of Spades.
Park exulted inwardly, but waited for the river.
Seonyeong pushed another four billion.
The hall hummed like a turbine.
Park shook, then called.
Turn — Two of Spades. Nothing changed. His face drained of color.
Seonyeong smiled.
— Still time to fold.
— Don't talk nonsense! — Park slammed the table. — Call!
He flipped his hand — Ace and King of Diamonds. The crowd gasped.
Seonyeong slowly revealed his Three of Hearts and Four of Clubs.
One more card.
River — Four of Hearts.
Full house.
Park never even understood what had happened.
He shouted, lunged forward — and Seonyeong's palm met his strike mid-air.
The impact sent his glasses crashing to the floor.
— Hyung! Are you okay?! — Lo Dan's voice screamed through the earpiece.
Security rushed in, grabbing Park and dragging him away.
Seonyeong picked up the shattered frames and murmured into the mic:
— Disable the devices.
— Roger that.
Yi Hoon, pushing his cart, bent close.
— Sir, your glasses —
— Leave them. — Seonyeong added quietly, his tone unchanged: — Turn everything off.
Yi Hoon understood and nodded almost imperceptibly.
The hall manager, seeing that the victor wished to leave, hurried over and bowed.
— Mr. Chow, would you like to rest?
— Yes, for a while.
He walked out under dozens of stares — admiring, envious, hostile.
The corridor gleamed with gold light, but the air was cold, like after a storm.
— Hyung, are you hurt? — Lo Dan's whisper crackled in his ear.
— I'm fine. Everything's under control.
The hit had been hard, but not dangerous. The real pain was how fast calm could shatter.
— If the glasses hadn't broken, — Lo Dan muttered, — security would've checked them.
— That's why I didn't block him, — Seonyeong answered quietly. — Let them think I'm just a tired winner.
He cut the connection, opened the door to his suite, and finally allowed himself a weary laugh.
— Ha… what a day.
On the bed, his phone blinked with a notification.
An unknown number.
A short message on the screen:
"Hyung, it's Gyuhyuk. Jihan is chasing me. I'm running."
Seonyeong froze.
The world seemed to collapse into one line of text.
His fingers tightened around the phone; his chest echoed with a dull, violent beat — like a hammer striking glass.
What the hell is going on now?