Casino Wizard

Finally stepping into the VIP room,

Miriam felt her chest swell with excitement as she looked around.

At a glance, it was just a lounge with a few card tables added.

But to her, it was a place that offered sheer exhilaration.

A pounding heart, toes wriggling involuntarily, and a neck that felt warm despite the lack of heat.

Not even the time her current boyfriend gave her a cheap silver ring had made her feel this thrilled.

Miriam could feel it becoming increasingly difficult to maintain her composure.

Was it the anticipation of gambling? Of course not.

“Why would I gamble? I’m not an idiot.”

Her sole goal was business.

Fortunately, the place was teeming with well-fed prey.

“Phew… Phew… Do they allow side betting here?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. This is a VIP room. Please enjoy yourself with decorum.”

“Oh, dear.”

She noticed a middle-aged woman fidgeting impatiently, having been told she had to wait her turn.

Apparently, the woman was the wife of a deputy guildmaster of the brewing guild.

She had likely brought a significant amount of the money her husband had worked so hard to earn.

Miriam preferred to lend money to women whenever possible.

She’d recently discovered that women were much better customers than men.

Especially homemakers with no jobs—they were desperate to hide their gambling debts from their husbands.

‘Perfect. You’ll be my first.’

Miriam didn’t know how long it would take for that delightful, plump lady to go bankrupt.

But that didn’t matter.

There were plenty more targets around.

The game soon began.

The game of choice was baccarat.

One of the card games created by Hyden, the wizard of the hero’s party.

As a wizard, Hyden wasn’t incompetent—he ranked within the kingdom’s top 20.

Still, he was considered lackluster compared to the firepower of other hero parties. However, his knack for game design seemed exceptional.

After all, he had even granted a commoner like Miriam entry into the VIP room.

‘Thank you, Hyden. I’ll make sure to take my share modestly.’

Reflecting on Hyden’s great generosity, Miriam watched the baccarat table.

At first, it was calm, with only the cards being dealt.

But signs of excitement gradually began to emerge.

“Ugh, betting so stingily… If you’re going to play like that, get up! Let me have a turn!”

“I’m just watching how the trends go. What’s the problem?”

“This is the VIP room! Bet big!”

“Ladies and gentlemen, please keep your voices down.”

Spectators grumbled at those making minimum bets, while the dealer, Lucy, calmly dealt the cards, her expression composed.

Slowly, the scoreboard, or the results tracker, filled up one square at a time.

As some began to follow the flow, the stakes grew higher, and the expressions of those around the table began to shift.

“Banker, banker, player, banker, player, banker… Seems like we’re in a ping-pong trend today.”

“Really? One gold on the banker, and 20 silvers on the tie.”

“The banker wins.”

“Yes! Got it!”

The hallmark of baccarat was its speed.

A round could be over in as little as 30 seconds.

At most, it stretched to about a minute and a half if someone lingered over revealing their cards.

Typically, this meant 60–70 rounds per hour.

Fast, and therefore, a terrifying game.

Miriam rolled her eyes, inwardly praying for the excitement to heighten, for people to bet faster and recklessly, giving her a chance to swoop in.

But then, at that moment—

“Oh, damn it. My bad feeling was right. Another banker win?”

“Sir, please refrain from using foul language.”

“Look at how the trend’s been dropping since the start!”

“What’s wrong with it? I’m doing fine.”

“Are you mocking me!?”

Bang! Bang!

One person got overly worked up, pounding the table unnecessarily and glaring at the neighbor who was quietly playing.

‘Idiot.’

Miriam smirked.

Clearly, this one had just realized that the VIP room wasn’t for him. He had hoped to make a little profit at the start to use as his bankroll, only to find things weren’t going as he had expected.

But casinos weren’t foolish enough to let someone like that linger.

The middle-aged hero, Pierrot, appeared to remove the nuisance.

“Please leave.”

“What kind of treatment is this?”

“Let’s keep it classy, sir. Why behave this way?”

“This is infuriating!”

Ultimately, the troublemaker was escorted out by the hero, even shouting insults about Pierrot’s bald head on his way out.

The atmosphere cooled instantly, and Miriam clicked her tongue.

Oh well. That empty seat would be filled soon enough. Everyone here was eager to play baccarat.

A simple nod from the dealer, and someone would eagerly take the vacant spot.

Miriam hoped the game would resume quickly.

But then, an unexpected situation arose.

“Ma’am?”

“…Yes?”

“Lady Miriam?”

The dealer had called out to none other than Miriam, even addressing her with the honorific “Lady,” unusual for a commoner like her.

“Me?”

When Miriam turned around awkwardly, the dealer, Lucy—the former archer of the hero’s party—nodded with a bright smile.

“Yes. I’ve noticed you a few times over the past months. You seem to get along well with other customers.”

“Well, that’s…”

“With the atmosphere a bit tense due to the earlier incident, I think having you at the table would help restore normalcy quickly.”

“Well, I think someone else would…”

Miriam had been about to say, Ask someone else, but stopped herself.

‘If I refuse now, it’ll look suspicious.’

This was a game everyone was desperate to join.

Declining out of misplaced generosity?

That was absurd. It would be akin to admitting she had another motive.

Already, some customers were looking at her with envy. She had to decide quickly, before those admiring gazes turned skeptical.

“Oh my, thank you so much.”

“Not at all.”

Covering her mouth, Miriam chuckled lightly and took a seat at the table.

She didn’t intend to play seriously.

Just an hour, enough to avoid suspicion, and then she’d excuse herself as a spectator again.

“Honestly, I didn’t even feel like I could lose.”

Miriam had convinced herself of this confidently.

She planned to go with the flow, making small bets, alternating between Player and Banker if necessary. At worst, she thought, this strategy might even net her a small win.

It didn’t matter much if she lost a little anyway—she could always recoup her losses with ease by catching a sucker elsewhere.

To her, getting addicted to baccarat was something that only undisciplined fools allowed to happen.

Luckily, Miriam prided herself on her excellent self-control.

“I’m new here, so go easy and Take good care of me, okay?”

At least, that’s what she firmly believed.

…

As the game progressed, something felt off.

“Banker wins with 9.”

Her first bet: 50 silvers on Banker. She won.

“Just lucky,” she thought, shrugging it off as she placed another bet.

“Banker wins with 8.”

Another win.

“Banker 1, Player 0. Congratulations.”

“No way!” Miriam chuckled in disbelief.

Another win.

The streak paused briefly with a tie.

“It’s a tie.”

“Ah, I should’ve bet on Tie!” she muttered, clicking her tongue.

But then, it resumed. Banker. Banker. Banker.

‘Wait a second.’

Without even realizing it, Miriam had ridden a Banker streak, winning consistently.

Win.

Win again.

And yet another win.

A small tower of coins began to form in front of her.

Sure, she’d made plenty of money before through her loan sharking ventures, but baccarat was something entirely different.

In less than a minute, she could earn what might be a month’s salary for an average person—1 gold, 2 golds.

Even for Miriam, it was hard to stay calm.

‘No, this is just luck.’

She forced herself to stay composed.

‘Don’t let it get to you. It’s all coincidence.’

Repeating this mantra internally, she tried to prepare herself for the possibility of the streak breaking.

‘Actually… maybe I should break it myself.’

Determined to stay grounded, Miriam decided to bet against the streak.

Instead of Banker, she placed the maximum bet—3 gold—on Player.

She thought losing might help her regain focus.

But then—

“Player wins with 9 over Banker’s 8. Congratulations.”

She won again. And with a natural 9, no less.

For a moment, Miriam felt her mind go cold.

‘Could it be…?’

A small, happy doubt crept into her thoughts.

Then she heard a voice behind her:

“Why isn’t it working? Just ride with the green-haired lady, and you’ll win every time!”

It was praise for her impeccable instincts.

There was no mistaking it—she was the only green-haired woman in the VIP room.

‘Wait, do I… have a talent for baccarat?’

The very idea of having talent for baccarat sounded absurd. After all, the game was pure luck.

But perhaps there was such a thing as a knack for “betting strategy.”

A talent for wise bets—avoiding greed and focusing on steady profits.

‘That’s it. I’m not here to make money from baccarat anyway. I was just trying to avoid suspicion, playing along at an appropriate level. That’s why I can stay calm, unlike these fools.’

She began analyzing her own strengths.

Her disinterest in baccarat as an end goal gave her the detachment needed for rational betting.

Her decisiveness allowed her to make bold plays when necessary.

And she had the self-control to walk away from the game at any moment.

All the while, she kept winning.

Her current record: 20 wins, 3 losses.

“Impressive,” murmured Hyden, the casino’s owner, as he watched from the sidelines.

Miriam finally came to a conclusion.

She wasn’t just good at baccarat—she was a natural. A genius.

A smile crept across her lips as she realized this.

The gamblers playing alongside her began to look at her with awe.

“Three gold on Player,” she declared.

“Going big, huh? Well, with the luck you’re having today…”

Max bets had become second nature. Miriam convinced herself that it was the logical choice.

Bet 1 gold, win 2. Bet 2 gold, win 4. Bet 3 gold, win 6.

Even with the small commission on Banker wins, the returns were substantial.

Betting conservatively would be losing money in its own way.

‘It’s fine. I have talent.’

Her bets grew bolder.

From across the table, Hyden, the magician and casino owner, watched her with an amused smile.

But Miriam paid no attention to anyone else.

For now, all that mattered to her was baccarat.