Casino Wizard

“Three gold on Banker!”

Miriam’s clear voice rang out. Not that she really needed to shout.

The woman was already caught in the trap I’d set.

Of course, she didn’t seem to realize it herself.

Miriam was simply caught up in her excitement, boldly making bet after bet.

“Uh, Miss Miriam? You’ve had quite a run—how about taking a break?”

“Come on, hurry up!”

“All right, revealing the cards… Player wins.”

“Ah, didn’t hit this time.”

Even though she’d gone all-in on Banker and lost, she didn’t seem the least bit bothered.

Why is she so nonchalant after losing?

Spare change? That can’t be it.

Three gold coins could easily cover a middle-class family’s living expenses for a month in the capital. Losing that much in under a minute would be a blow even to most aristocrats.

Let alone a loan shark of commoner origins like her, who was already funneling money into my casino. If she considered three gold “spare change,” I would’ve caught on to her by now.

Yet Miriam showed no sign of hesitation.

It was as if her sense of money had gone numb; she kept betting recklessly.

‘She must just think this is a fluke.’

It was obvious what was going on in her head.

I was just a bit impatient for a moment.

Maybe I misread the flow of the game.

Actually, this could work out for the best. Losing once in a while helps avoid suspicion.

That’s probably what she’s telling herself.

“All in on Player this time!”

And so, she continued throwing her money down without a care.

It wasn’t like I had used some extraordinary scheme to fool Miriam.

First, I rigged the initial rounds so Banker wins would appear frequently. This was to implant the idea in her mind that baccarat had discernible patterns.

The “strategic shoe” was a prearranged deck designed to create specific outcomes.

Though it might seem like a cheap trick to fleece marks, it was so basic by my former life’s standards that some players enjoyed trying to figure it out for sport. Still, it worked on Miriam.

Second, I had a planted player leave the table and ensured Miriam was seated at the center, right in the action.

Sitting directly in front of the dealer makes it hard to just sit out or stick to minimum bets.

And finally, third: a few compliments about her betting instincts.

That was all it took.

No other tricks were necessary. Just that much was enough to ensnare her.

This trap had a singular purpose:

To make her believe she could win money with her instincts.

For someone caught in that belief, only one future awaited.

Ruin.

And not just ruin—a swift and utter collapse.

“Oh… huh. Lost again.”

It was starting to happen.

I exchanged a look with the archer standing by the dealer, issuing a silent signal.

Not to cheat by pulling a card switch or anything like that.

Though with the archer’s dexterity, fooling regular people would be child’s play.

But there was no need to deceive the other customers at the table—only the target, Miriam, mattered.

The signal I gave was simple: provoke her.

Keep agitating Miriam, who was already brimming with false confidence.

‘This will do.’

I exchanged pleasantries with a few nobles before slowly walking out of the VIP room.

“Banker wins.”

“Huh?”

Miriam’s trembling voice reached my ears, but I didn’t look back.

It was about two hours into the game when Miriam first started feeling a sense of unease.

And there was one reason for that unease:

Baccarat.

The baccarat she thought she had under control wasn’t going as she’d expected.

“Banker wins.”

“No way, wait—!”

“Miss Miriam, is there something wrong? Did I make a mistake?”

“No… it’s nothing.”

Miriam quickly lowered the hand she’d reflexively raised in protest, feeling embarrassed.

Of course, she had plenty of questions she wanted to ask.

But questioning the dealer felt inappropriate, so she bit her tongue and kept it in.

It’s not like she could say, Why am I suddenly losing after everything was going so well?

What would the other players think of her if she did?

They’d just see her as a sore loser whining about her bad luck.

No.

As strange as it was, she had to keep it together.

Still, the doubt lingered.

‘Why… am I losing?’

Just two hours ago, she’d been winning.

Earning admiring looks from the VIPs.

She’d been calmly following her own betting principles, avoiding recklessness, and succeeding.

So why was she losing now?

It made no sense to Miriam.

Yet the game didn’t give her a moment to catch her breath.

The cards kept coming, and with them, more bets demanded.

No one held a knife to her throat, of course.

But the relentless pressure—the tantalizing hope that this time she might win—felt just as compelling.

And so, Miriam could do nothing but watch as her precious funds dwindled away.

Banker, Player, Player, Banker, Banker, Banker, Player, Tie, Banker, Player, Player, Banker, Banker, Player…

How could this be happening?

Whether it was Banker streaks, Player streaks, or alternating patterns, there should have been some kind of trend to latch onto.

Wasn’t there? Or was there no rule that said it had to work that way?

Still, the erratic flow made it impossible to read the game.

Without a discernible pattern, where should she place her bet?

‘This is ridiculous.’

Miriam’s face was growing paler by the minute.

“Hey, green hair. Stop fiddling with the cards. What are you, petting them?”

“Pardon?”

“I said, stop petting the cards! You’re slowing down the game!”

Even the other players were turning on her, criticizing her hesitation.

These were the same people who had followed her bets earlier, marveling at her luck.

But any admiration for her had long since evaporated.

An angry Miriam bit her lip in frustration.

‘I have to prove myself.’

She felt an overwhelming need to demonstrate her skills.

Why did she need to prove herself? A flicker of doubt crossed her mind but was quickly snuffed out.

No time for that. Winning came first.

She had to shut up those smug old men mocking her.

Miriam racked her brain, her resolve hardening.

Finally, she had her answer.

‘I need a turning point.’

A bold bet to shift the momentum.

The time was now.

“Three gold on Player, and 60 silver on Player Pair.”

Player Pair.

A side bet on the Player’s two cards being a pair.

It paid twelve times the wager if successful.

Of course, the odds were slim, but Miriam was sure.

She believed she still had enough luck left to win.

“Miss Miriam, are you sure about this?”

“The money’s already on the table, isn’t it?”

“Would you consider sitting this one out?”

The dealer’s concerned tone only fueled her determination.

Why are you trying to stop me? You’re just the dealer!

“Why is the dealer discouraging me?”

“I’m just saying—”

“60 silver on Player Pair! It’s happening!”

“Understood.”

This time, it would hit.

Miriam clenched her fists, her heart pounding with anticipation.

Victory was within reach.

But the result was…

“Banker wins. Congratulations.”

It was devastating.

She lost both her main and side bets.

Three gold and 60 silver, gone in an instant.

Why?

Miriam felt a cold numbness as she tried to process her loss.

No matter how much she thought about it, she couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong.

“Did I make a mistake somewhere?”

Miriam slowly bowed her stiffened neck, barely managing to lower her head.

Her gaze fell on the significantly reduced pile of chips in front of her.

Not long ago, she had stacked them neatly by denomination, forming towers that reached impressive heights. At the height of her winning streak, she’d even entertained dreamy thoughts like, “Too much money—carrying it might be a hassle.” But now, where had all that money gone?

Her eyes began to sting slightly with the onset of tears.

The dealer shuffled the cards, and for a brief moment, the game came to a pause.

As Miriam tried to pull herself together, the dealer called to her softly.

“Miss Miriam?”

With a flourish of expertly shuffled cards, the dealer looked at her with an oddly sympathetic expression.

“It doesn’t seem to be your day today. How about trying again next time?”

“Should I… do that?”

“Yes. Today isn’t the only day, after all.”

That was true. There was always tomorrow, and the day after that.

The dealer’s words made sense, but she felt reluctant to give up here.

“But, um, the VIP room is only open today, right?”

“Yes, for now.”

“How am I supposed to recover my losses at a 30-silver table?”

“I can’t answer that for you. I’m just advising you because your bets seem a bit too aggressive.”

The 3-gold VIP room would close after today. It might reopen under pressure from gambling-addicted nobles, maybe even become a permanent fixture. But when that would happen was anyone’s guess.

Recovering her losses at a 30-silver table would take forever. …Sure, her main job was moneylending, but at this moment, baccarat felt more important. Hunting down debtors and finding new prey was far more exhausting than trying her luck at the table.

“No, I’ll keep going.”

Miriam briskly wiped the dampness from the corners of her eyes and answered resolutely.

She had a single goal: to somehow recover her losses.

Miriam continued the game.

…

Three more hours passed.

She lost everything—down to her last penny.

Her total losses amounted to 520 gold.

Every single coin she had brought with her had vanished.

The money she had earned through relentless effort as a loan shark.

The precious capital she had hoped to multiply during this opportunity.

“This can’t… This can’t be real.”

Miriam collapsed onto the floor, muttering blankly.

All that remained in her possession were a few 1-silver coins—too little to even meet the minimum betting requirement.