Adversity and Chivalry (2) ****
Jubilation and despair.
And sighs.
Everything about this casino was sweet.
Like the instant food he used to eat in the 21st century, before he possessed Mikhail.
Like the cola he could never taste again.
Mikhail leaned deep into the sofa and appreciated the scene unfolding before his eyes.
The only difference was that this wasn't bad for the body.
No, it might even be good.
Because he would never directly participate in this game.
Because he would just set the stage and watch the humans who put on a show on top of it.
The air stirred.
The sound of human desires clashing and mixing with each other.
A cacophony created by the entanglement of hope and despair.
Especially the sight of that man over at the roulette table, struggling to suppress his joy, was the most ridiculous.
Judging by his attire, he was undoubtedly a lofty nobleman from the capital.
He was desperately trying to act as if nothing was wrong.
But in Mikhail's eyes, everything was visible.
The tips of his fingers, reaching for the mountain of chips, were unseen but were surely trembling.
Likewise, his expression was not visible, but a flushed red face was clear in his mind's eye.
Beads of cold sweat formed on his wide forehead, but he pretended to fix his hair and slyly wiped it away with his sleeve.
The man must be shouting in his heart.
'I won! I did it!'
All his efforts to hide that joy were, on the contrary, revealing his excitement all the more starkly.
Mikhail once again smiled a satisfied smile.
There were two types of gambling dens in this romance fantasy world.
The vulgar gambling dens of the back alleys.
Low-class games where thugs scammed and extorted money from wretched people, putting them in debt.
And the gentlemen's social clubs.
Boring places where they played cards just to kill their overflowing time... where the money bet wasn't even enough to cover dinner.
The former was dangerous, and the latter was boring.
But this place was different.
Chips that were exchanged instead of money.
A maze-like structure that completely blocked out the outside world and made one forget time.
Unlimited provision of the finest liquor and snacks.
Kind and trustworthy staff who never lost their smiles.
And above all.
The absolute honesty of never cheating.
All of these combined to form a perfect system that wore down human reason and left only the most primal desires.
"If he wins that much..."
Mikhail raised the glass next to him, took a sip, and muttered softly.
"That guy, he's going to get addicted."
He chuckled.
Mikhail looked at Josefina, who was sitting stiffly beside him like a doll.
Her blue eyes were just calmly taking in the casino's scenery.
"Don't you find it amusing?"
Mikhail asked.
"Guys who call themselves nobles, executives of large merchant guilds, high-ranking officials, and what not... going crazy over a mere moment of chance and acting like that."
His voice was a mixture of pure curiosity and contempt.
"Gambling is fun, and I did work hard to make it this way on purpose. But is it to that extent? It's quite a sight to see them act like that, crazy over a moment of chance, but..."
Memories of the 21st century flashed through his mind.
Old men, abandoned by their families, riding the free subway, frequenting horse racing tracks and velodromes, and cheerfully spending their pensions that amounted to only loose change.
Lowlifes who bet their lives on illegal private sports betting sites.
Guys who were crazy about stocks, coins, futures, and the like, making investments that were obviously dangerous to anyone watching.
They were… desperate.
Man cannot live by bread alone, was it?
Indeed, it was so.
For them, gambling was not entertainment, but a dream and a hope.
A last chance to turn everything around in one go.
Of course, he had seen news about rich celebrities or businessmen getting caught for gambling overseas, but that was just the deviation of a few.
Generally, gambling was always for the lowlifes.
Unlike the nobles, high officials, and wealthy sirs enjoying themselves in this temporary casino right now.
Of course, it was a good thing for him.
If the rich guys got hooked on gambling, the house would get fat.
"They all have so much money, so why on earth do they act like that?"
For him, gambling was, at best, a tool to relieve boredom.
Mind games like Texas Hold'em or Mahjong were one thing, but this kind of game, which relied solely on luck, was not to his taste.
In Mikhail's mind, he was a gamer, not a gambler.
No matter how much he won at any given moment, if the number of losses accumulated, he would quickly lose interest, get annoyed, and surely throw down the cards and dice.
Josefina, who had been pondering Mikhail's words for a moment, opened her mouth.
"It seems they are not gambling to earn a few coins."
Her voice was as cold and dry as ever.
"Ho-oh?"
"They are buying 'victory'. They are enjoying the feeling of being 'chosen'."
She paused for a moment and pointed at Jean-Claude at the roulette table with her fingertip.
"Look at that man. He just won a huge amount of money. But his joy does not come from the amount of money. It comes from the fact that among numerous competitors, amidst unpredictable odds, he alone guessed the correct number. That thrill. That is what intoxicates him."
Mikhail's eyes widened for a moment.
He looked at Josefina's face again.
'Indeed, she's competent.'
She seemed to have a perfect understanding of the concept of gambling addiction.
They weren't betting to win money.
They were betting their stakes to prove their luck, their specialness.
To buy the drug called victory.
But
Mikhail still couldn't fully understand.
He leaned his back deeper into the sofa and let out a small laugh.
"Even so, that feeling of victory will only be temporary. In the end, the final winner will always be the house."
What was so joyful about winning in a game set up by someone else?
That was not a real victory.
It was just tasting the food thrown by the master for a moment.
Like a hunting dog or a falcon.
Even though he knew that gambling addiction was a mental illness where the brain goes haywire from excessive dopamine, he couldn't understand it.
As if he had suddenly remembered something he had forgotten, Mikhail's eyes shone playfully.
"What if, I say."
He asked, looking at Josefina.
"If all the money those guys have runs out. If they can no longer taste that sweet victory. If they can no longer buy the feeling of being chosen."
"…"
"What… will happen then?"
Mikhail paused for a moment and concluded with a very satisfied expression.
"When the auction, when this banquet is over... I'll have to order a pawnshop, a pawnshop to be built."
***
Daeng—
Daeng—
Daeng—
Three dull bell tolls cut through the noisy air inside the tent.
The rotation of the roulette wheel stopped, and the hands that had been busily moving over the card tables all came to a halt.
All eyes naturally turned to one place.
The center of the casino, a small temporary stage that had been empty until a moment ago.
Upon it, Laura Valeriano had stepped up without a sound.
She stood there quietly, without a brass horn enchanted with amplification magic, and surveyed the hall.
But that alone was enough.
All the noise stopped as if by a lie.
"To all our distinguished guests who have come a long way, I welcome you once again."
Her voice was not loud, but strangely, it echoed clearly to every corner of the tent.
"I hope you enjoyed the brief entertainment. Now, I would like to begin the real banquet of this night."
As Laura gestured, two employees pushed a small table covered with a velvet cloth onto the stage.
"Tonight, we introduce the first product prepared by our Far East Maritime Province Development Corporation."
Seureureuk-!
The velvet cloth was pulled back, and what was underneath was revealed.
A low wave of admiration spread through the hall.
Twelve bottles of liquor.
But they were not simple liquor bottles.
Crystal bottles of subtly different shapes, clearly made by a master blowing each one by hand.
Inside them, a transparent liquid shone brilliantly, receiving the light.
And wrapped around the center of the bottle was a pure white leather label.
On it, the crest of 'Mikhail', the Grand Duke of the Far East Maritime Province, was delicately embroidered with gold thread.
"'Mikhail Gold Label'. A limited edition of which only twelve bottles were produced, solely to commemorate this banquet tonight."
Jean-Claude swallowed dryly without realizing it.
'To put such effort into a single liquor bottle.'
He tried to scoff.
But he couldn't help his heart from pounding wildly.
"We will begin the auction. The starting price is 100 gold."
It was a price that could only be called insane.
But no sooner had Laura finished speaking than hands were raised here and there, and the bidding began.
"110!"
"120!"
"150 it is!"
The price soared madly.
Jean-Claude couldn't understand.
With that money, one could buy a much more valuable work of art in the capital.
So why were the idiots participating in this banquet so desperate!
'No, wait.'
A cold reason flashed through his mind.
They were not buying liquor.
They were buying a 'story'.
They were buying the right to become the owner of a 'legend' permitted only to twelve people at this historic first banquet.
The privilege to go back and brag, 'You know, I drank that Mikhail Gold Label'!
Cold sweat ran down Jean-Claude's spine.
That was not just liquor.
It was a work of art.
A symbol of authority.
And above all, it was 'rarity' itself.
'I must buy it.'
The item to be presented to Her Highness Anastasia was not something like the 'Blue Label', but this 'Gold Label'.
It was the 'story' itself.
"300!"
By the time he shouted, almost like a scream, the price had already far surpassed his expectations.
In the end, when the last bottle was sold at an absurd price, Jean-Claude had to bite his lip in defeat.
'That much money for just one bottle of liquor? They're insane. It's the product of madness!'
Though he tried to belittle it like that, there was no regret on the faces of the successful bidders.
They were filled only with the satisfied smiles of a victor.
They had obtained something that money could not buy.
"The next item! A sapphire necklace passed down through the generations of the Marquis Vostok family, the 'Tears of Sophia'!"
The heat of the auction showed no signs of cooling down.
The masters of other merchant guilds took to the stage one by one, introducing the jewels and works of art they had brought.
The atmosphere grew hotter and hotter.
People's eyes were blazing with desire.
Jean-Claude looked at the chips he held in his hand.
The few stacks of high-value chips left after exchanging the mountain of chips he had won at roulette.
It was a large enough sum, but it was not enough to participate in the auction.
Unless he used his own small fortune.
'No, the goal is to recruit Laura Valeriano! I can't be distracted by useless things!'
Recruiting Laura Valeriano was a far greater gift than any item to be presented.
Just as he was trying to collect himself, Laura, who had stepped onto the stage, opened her mouth again.
"Now, we will unveil the final item."
Standing on the stage, she closed her eyes as if to catch her breath.
That brief silence honed the tension in the hall like a blade.
Seueuk—
Laura's hand moved slowly, very slowly, into her bosom.
Hundreds of gazes were fixed on that one slow movement.
What came out in her hand was just a single card.
A murmur mixed with disappointment and suspicion.
But that murmur soon subsided.
Pat!
When Laura held up the card, the light that burst from her fingertips drew a huge shape in the air.
A huge card floating in the air.
Because the card was no ordinary object.
Leather as white as snow.
A luster that was clearly Shell Cordovan.
Seeing that color, it was not dyed, but was clearly from a white horse.
Furthermore, on it, delicate letters and a strange magic circle were engraved in gold leaf that seemed to shine on its own even in the pitch-black darkness.
The detailed form of the card was branded onto the retinas of everyone who had entered the tent.
Laura's mouth finally opened.
"The Far East Maritime Province Special Tourism Zone, Permanent VIP Membership."
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