"No regrets. I know the rules. If I lose, I'll just treat it like opening a bottle of fine wine and spilling it on the floor," Old Mike replied.
The owner shrugged and took the Silver Coins.
'Every hot-headed gambler says the same thing,' he thought. 'After they lose, you get all kinds: some smash the place up, some play dumb, some wail about having parents and children to feed, and some charge at you, ready to fight to the death.'
Not a single normal one among them.
Still, he took the money.
He wouldn't lose out either way.
The cut he took from the bets alone earned him more than the bar business.
The bouncers in the tavern weren't hired for nothing. If Old Mike really lost his mind and attacked someone, he would just become another test subject to sell to the Wild Mages.
It was an open secret, this underground business.
