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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Pot]
[Proofreader - Kawaii]
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Chapter 165: The Gambling Demon Karzan
"Excuse me, but—"
The elderly man who had been quietly listening raised his hand.
"May I say something?"
"Ah, the old man who showed some insight earlier."
"Nothing too grand."
"Good, a man who knows humility."
I pointed at him.
"Let’s start with introductions. Who are you?"
"I’m Gareth, recently joined the organization and running a pawnshop."
"Ah, so you’re Gareth."
"I’ve heard a lot about you, Karzan."
Gareth’s demeanor was respectful yet confident.
‘This guy’s got something.’
He seemed like someone who had been quite capable in his prime. He had the air of someone who might have served in the military. Zizek really knows how to pick people.
"Alright, feel free to speak your mind. What’s bothering you?"
"Regardless of your skills, I feel the decision-making is too one-sided. Zizek is the leader of this organization, but it feels like he’s being treated like a puppet."
"Hmm."
In short, he was talking about the organization’s discipline.
"If I’ve overstepped, I apologize."
"Don’t worry about it."
I chuckled.
"On the contrary, I’m relieved to have someone with both experience and skill who isn’t afraid to speak the truth."
"..."
Gareth’s expression was complicated.
"Did you two know each other before?"
"Yes. We’ve crossed paths before, and one day he suddenly dragged me out for a drink, and here I am."
"Looks like Zizek has a good eye."
I nodded.
"Actually, I told him to recruit someone with both dignity and skill. Apparently, you fit the bill."
"..."
"Gareth, your point is valid. It’s natural for a leader to feel uneasy when some shady figure starts giving orders over him."
"Well, that’s..."
My bluntness seemed to catch Gareth off guard.
"It’s fine. I’m not the petty type to hold a grudge over something like that."
I’m not like Somerset, after all.
"Zizek."
"Yes."
I pointed at Zizek and commanded.
"He’s a rare, wise man in this underworld. Respect him as an elder of our organization."
"..."
I extended my hand to the bewildered Gareth.
"Congratulations, Gareth. Consider this a promotion."
"Well, I’ll be damned."
Gareth, though flustered, shook my hand, clearly not displeased.
"You’re quite straightforward. I think I’m starting to see why Zizek follows you."
I smirked arrogantly.
"You’ve only seen a glimpse of my greatness. No need to be so impressed yet."
"Hahaha!"
I patted Rob on the back, who was sitting awkwardly.
"Feeling bitter about being overtaken by a newcomer? Don’t be."
"Ah, no. Don’t worry."
"Good. You’ve got a big heart."
I turned back to Gareth.
"Gareth."
"Go ahead."
"I understand your concerns, but Zizek and I are old friends who’ve walked similar paths. We’re comrades heading toward the same goal. If I seemed too playful or reckless, I apologize. But rest assured, I won’t give unreasonable orders."
"Well, that’s..."
"More importantly."
I grinned.
"Today, I’ll show you who’s really backing you all."
Gareth’s eyes grew serious at my implication.
"May I follow you? I won’t interfere, just watch from a distance."
"Still don’t trust me?"
"It’s not that. I’m not so blind as to not recognize an extraordinary fighter."
"Then?"
"Someone needs to brag about your prowess to these guys, don’t they?"
Gareth smiled.
"Can you keep from being noticed?"
"Don’t worry. I’m quite nimble for my age."
I nodded.
"Alright. Follow along discreetly then. Don’t act like you know me."
"Thank you."
"By the way, Zizek."
"Yes?"
I held out my hand to Zizek.
"Got any spare change?"
"What for?"
As if it wasn’t obvious.
"I’ll need to play a few rounds first."
"Unbelievable."
"I’ll pay you back."
The gambling demon inside me quietly stirred.
* * *
I stepped into the entrance of the gambling den run by Krahel, the combat-oriented executive of the Black Night Society.
"Long time no see. How long has it been?"
The stifling, wretched stench of desire. It’s so comforting.
‘Back in the day, I used to dominate the gambling dens of Flanders.’
My theory is that Ivan, that bastard, came to assassinate me on the Dark King’s orders partly out of resentment for the times I cleaned him out in card games.
Or maybe not.
‘This place is quite large.’
Look at the expressions and discipline of the armed guards, the seemingly chaotic yet controlled atmosphere.
‘The Black Night Society isn’t entirely incompetent.’
Proper organizations don’t manage their establishments carelessly.
Then again, a fourth rate organization like this must have climbed over countless fifth rate or lower organizations, so it’s only natural they have some substance.
‘Maybe Krahel’s presence is what keeps these pathetic gamblers in line.’
Whether his strength is real or inflated, it’s clear he’s made a name for himself in this underworld.
‘That’s why he’s the perfect sacrifice.’
Besides, he’s long abandoned the principles of gambling, so it’s only right he disappears for the sake of the underworld’s order.
‘You’ve spent your life making others cry tears of blood, so don’t complain too much about the sudden death coming your way.’
After silently offering a quick prayer for Krahel’s soul, I approached the security at the entrance.
"Welcome."
The guard, seeing my rough face, asked without a hint of suspicion.
"Here to play?"
"Yeah."
I figured I’d flip this place over while I was at it, but of course, I didn’t say that out loud.
"Any good seats?"
"Hard to say, it’s a busy night. Just grab a spot when you see one."
"Alright."
"Entry fee is just one coin."
I chuckled. It’s a paltry sum, but in reality, it’s anything but cheap.
‘What matters is getting them through the door.’
Once they get a taste, they’ll bring not just their money but their homes and families too.
Their so-called "mercy" was nothing but insidious poison, no different from a mousetrap.
"You didn’t bring any weapons, did you?"
"Of course not. Want to frisk me?"
There’s no way weapons would be allowed in a place like this, so naturally, I came empty-handed. I could always use my bracelet sword in an emergency, but I doubted I’d need it today.
"Of course not."
My confidence and the aura of someone deeply entrenched in the underworld seemed to put the guard at ease. He barely showed any suspicion.
After all, anyone trying to cause trouble here alone would usually just get beaten up by the guards and dragged out.
"Enjoy your time."
"You too."
I waved at the guard, who would probably try to stab me in the back later, and stepped inside.
"Wow."
The gambling den felt like a place where time stood still. The lighting was dim, and the smoke from cigarettes hung thick in the air like fog.
Everywhere I looked, gamblers were gathered around tables, rolling dice, flipping cards, and staring with bloodshot eyes as they lost themselves in the games.
‘Living hard, aren’t they?’
The sound of dice rolling, curses, cheers, and the clinking of money and chips was almost deafening.
I quietly observed the stark contrast between the winners and losers, their expressions shifting dramatically as fortunes changed in an instant.
‘No matter the era, gamblers are all the same.’
What stood out about this place was its high ceiling and a second floor where a separate drinking party was underway.
Judging by the expensive-looking drinks and the leisurely way they gambled, these were undoubtedly VIPs.
‘That must be Krahel.’
I recognized my target from the description Zizek had given me. He was tall, with broad shoulders.
‘The typical build of a thug who’s made a name for himself in the underworld.’
A large frame naturally exudes intimidation, and it’s harder to kill someone like that with a few stabs, so they tend to survive longer.
‘Plus, even a simple sword strike would carry enough force to take down most enemies.’
In this world, factors beyond pure skill were crucial for survival.
As I turned my gaze to Krahel’s face, I noticed his slightly protruding jaw and a long scar running down his cheek, making him quite memorable.
‘In short, he looks like a total thug.’
My own face is pretty intimidating, but this guy was no slouch either.
And most importantly—
‘He’s missing half an ear.’
‘One-Eared Krahel.’
That was the nickname of the Black Night Society’s top enforcer.
Next to him was a young man who looked wealthy, probably the son of some merchant or minor noble.
‘I’ve got my eye on you.’
But I wasn’t planning to start anything yet.
Because—
‘I need to play a few rounds first.’
I couldn’t resist the itch and scratched the back of my neck.
"Ahem."
This is all part of the plan.
Really.
* * *
It's cold. It feels like a knife is flying into my heart and sticking into my chest.
"..."
But don’t worry. My eyes are faster than their hands.
‘These cheats are laughably bad. They’re no match for real pros.’
The level of sleight of hand and psychological warfare was so pitiful it was almost boring.
Then again, that’s why they’re scraping by under the Black Night Society, right? The real experts would be working in establishments managed by higher rate organizations like the Bisakino Brotherhood.
‘So slow. Even their tricks are sluggish.’
I rolled the dice quickly, shuffled the cards with flair, and manipulated the cheats’ setups to my advantage.
"Nice."
"Oh?"
"Lucky me."
"Wow, again?"
I smiled innocently and quickly multiplied Zizek’s stake by twenty.
"..."
The tension in the room became palpable. I didn’t even need to use my sensory skills to feel it.
"Uh, sir? How about we switch games? There’s one you might enjoy—"
Finally, a higher-up sidled up to me.
"That sounds good. Your staff here are annoyingly friendly."
"..."
I grinned like an idiot and followed him.
"Sir, this is your first time here, right? You must’ve gambled somewhere before."
He was testing me, but I wasn’t biting.
"Just killing time and making some pocket money. I’ve been lucky since this morning."
"...Ah, I see."
He didn’t seem convinced. In fact, he looked downright suspicious. Naturally.
‘How many rounds have I won now?’
Since my goal was to provoke a confrontation, I didn’t even bother throwing a few games.
‘Let’s see if this guy’s worth my time.’
I hoped he’d be a worthy opponent to entertain me. Someone who could challenge the Gambling Demon Karzan.
‘Hmm. Did I get too into it?’
But I was more interested in seeing how they’d try to "handle" me.
‘That way, I can catch them red-handed and chop off their hands.’
That’s when the real fight begins.
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Pot]
[Proofreader - Kawaii]
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