The moment Adrian and Jacob stepped into Nine Dragons Casino, they were greeted by an atmosphere of unmistakable luxury.
Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting warm light across polished marble floors. The air carried the faint scent of expensive perfume and freshly poured drinks, while the soft clatter of chips and the occasional burst of laughter blended into a steady hum of activity.
For Adrian, the surroundings were nothing new. Jacob, on the other hand, could barely hide his amazement.
"Bro, this place is insane."
Nine Dragons was divided into two main sections: the Casual Floor and the Premium Floor.
The Casual Floor attracted all sorts of wealthy people from Halcyon City. Some came for the thrill of gambling, while others treated the casino as a convenient place to network, strike business deals, and mingle with influential figures. For many of them, the gaming tables were almost secondary to the connections they could make.
The Premium Floor was an entirely different world.
Access was reserved for high-stakes players and well-known gamblers who had earned the casino’s recognition. Each approved guest received a gold membership card, which had to be presented to the guards stationed at the entrance before they could enter.
Naturally, this only made the exclusive section more appealing to those who couldn’t get inside. Several guests on the Casual Floor lingered near the boundary, watching the Premium tables from a distance and wondering what sort of money was changing hands beyond the guarded entrance.
Jacob, however, had already found something more interesting.
His head turned toward the bar, where a group of attractive women were chatting over drinks. He straightened his clothes, ran a hand through his hair, and flashed a hopeful smile.
"Adrian, I’ll catch up with you later. Something urgent just came up."
Adrian stared at him.
’This guy is completely hopeless.’
"Don’t get lost," he called after him. "I’ll text you when I’m finished here."
"Yeah, yeah!"
Jacob waved without even looking back, already making his way toward the women.
Adrian shook his head and continued in the opposite direction.
’Roxanne said she’d be waiting near the Premium entrance.’
He wandered through the casino for a few minutes, taking in the layout until he finally spotted her.
Roxanne stood near the guarded entrance in an elegant evening dress, with a luxurious fur coat draped over her shoulders. The combination suited her so well that she looked like a billionaire heiress stepping out of a movie.
The moment she noticed him, she held out a gold card.
"Adrian, you’re late."
He accepted it with a smile.
"And your friend?" she asked, glancing past him. "I thought you said you were bringing someone."
"He’s taken care of his own business. He’ll be fine."
Roxanne gave a small, unimpressed hum.
"Whatever. Let’s get down to business."
She led him toward the Premium entrance, where a pair of security guards stood on either side of the doorway.
"One thing you should know," she said as they approached. "This isn’t the place to be timid with your money. The stakes can get ridiculous, and people here don’t appreciate loose talk."
She presented her gold card to the guard.
"Whatever happens inside stays inside. Understand?"
Adrian raised an eyebrow.
"Do I look like someone who can’t keep his mouth shut? Have a little faith in me."
He handed his own card to the guard.
The man examined it, then looked up at Adrian with a frown.
"I don’t recognize you. How did you get a gold card?"
Before Adrian could respond, Roxanne turned toward him.
"He’s with me."
Her expression was calm, but her eyes made it clear she wasn’t in the mood for an argument.
The guard hesitated for another moment before lowering his arm.
"My apologies, sir. Please go ahead."
Adrian gave him a pleasant smile and walked inside.
The difference was immediate.
The Casual Floor had been impressive enough, but the Premium section carried an entirely different atmosphere. The lighting was softer, the furnishings more refined, and the conversations noticeably quieter. The guests were dressed in designer suits, tailored dresses, and expensive jewelry. Even the servers moved with a level of composure that suited the surroundings.
Here, a single wager could be worth more than some people earned in a year.
Roxanne turned toward Adrian.
"So, what are we playing first?"
His attention had already settled on a roulette table across from the bar.
A smile slowly spread across his face.
"Let’s get a drink first."
Roxanne studied him for a moment, trying to figure out what he was thinking. Whatever it was, he seemed unusually pleased with himself.
She decided not to ask.
After the day she’d had, a drink sounded like a good idea anyway.
...
"Two Duvels, please. Chilled, but don’t freeze the glasses."
Adrian took a seat at the bar facing the roulette table, with Roxanne settling into the chair beside him.
The bartender nodded and prepared their drinks with practiced efficiency. He wiped the glasses with a clean towel before setting them down, then poured the beer carefully.
Adrian had already placed forty dollars on the counter, along with a ten-dollar tip.
Roxanne picked up her glass, only to notice that Adrian hadn’t touched his. His attention remained fixed on the roulette table.
She followed his gaze.
"Roulette?" she asked. "That’s what you’re interested in?"
Roulette was a game of chance built around a spinning numbered wheel and a small ball. Players placed their chips on the outcomes they believed would win, whether that meant picking a single number, betting on a color, or choosing a broader group of numbers.
The more specific the prediction, the greater the potential payout. A winning straight-up bet on a single number paid thirty-five to one in profit, with the original wager returned as well. In other words, a successful $1,000 bet on one number would earn $35,000 in profit, plus the $1,000 stake.
Once the bets were placed, the dealer spun the wheel and released the ball in the opposite direction. As it slowed, the ball bounced from pocket to pocket, keeping everyone watching in suspense until it finally settled.
The dealer would then announce the winning number, pay the successful players, and collect the losing wagers.
Every spin was independent. No matter how many times a number had appeared before, the next result remained uncertain.
And while players could adjust their wagers during the betting period, everything had to be placed before the dealer announced, "No more bets."
Adrian watched the table for another moment before finally turning away to take a sip of his beer.
"Where do we buy the chips?"
Roxanne blinked.
"The cashier’s desk is over there."
She pointed toward a man seated behind a counter near the edge of the gaming floor.
Adrian finished his drink, stood up, and walked over.
"I’d like two separate bags of chips," he told the cashier. "One with a hundred and twenty one-thousand-dollar chips. The other with four fifty-thousand-dollar chips."
The cashier gave him a brief look but didn’t question the request. He processed the payment, confirmed the transaction, and handed Adrian the chips.
Adrian didn’t bother counting them. He returned to the bar, placed one bag in front of Roxanne, and kept the other.
She looked down at the two fifty-thousand-dollar chips inside.
"What am I supposed to do with these?"
"You’ll know when the time comes."
Adrian picked up his bag and headed toward the roulette table.
Roxanne stared after him.
’Who does this man think I am? A mind reader?’
She let out a quiet sigh before following him.
...
"Dammit!"
A middle-aged man in a rumpled Brioni suit slammed his palm against the padded rail. His face had turned an angry shade of red as he glared at the black seventeen where the ball had landed.
He had piled a small fortune onto red.
Twenty seconds later, it was all gone.
An older player across the table laughed dryly.
"Told you your luck was running out, Carl! Greed gets you every time."
The croupier remained composed as he swept the losing chips into the collection tray. Around the table, a few spectators exchanged knowing smiles.
Roulette had a way of humiliating everyone equally. It didn’t care about a player’s family name, bank balance, or the confidence with which he had placed his last bet.
Once the losing chips had been cleared, the croupier straightened and surveyed the table.
"Place your bets, please."
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then a calm, youthful voice broke the silence.
"I’ll take the board."
The croupier looked up as Adrian stepped into the vacant space.
Without hesitation, Adrian reached into his tray and placed a single black thousand-dollar chip on one of the numbered pockets.
A man standing beside him chuckled.
"One grand? Is this amateur hour? Did security let someone’s nephew wander onto the Premium Floor?"
Several people laughed.
To these players, a thousand dollars barely qualified as pocket change. They were accustomed to wagers large enough to buy cars and properties, not the sort of money someone might spend on an ordinary dinner.
Roxanne stood silently beside Adrian, her arms folded as she watched him.
He paid the mocking remarks no attention.
Instead, he continued placing his chips.
Click.
One thousand dollars on the number one.
Click.
Another thousand on the number two.
Click.
One thousand on the number three.
His movements were steady and deliberate. He worked his way across the layout, placing a single thousand-dollar chip on every numbered pocket from one through thirty-six.
By the time he finished, the entire numbered grid was covered.
Only the green zero remained untouched.
The laughter around the table gradually faded.
"What the hell is he doing?"
"Is he insane? He’s covering the entire board. Even if he wins, he’s barely making anything."
A man leaning over the rail shook his head.
"Thirty-five to one on a straight-up bet. If any of his numbers hits, he’ll get thirty-five thousand in winnings, plus the thousand-dollar chip he placed on that number. That’s thirty-six thousand back on a thirty-six-thousand-dollar outlay."
He paused, staring at the layout.
"So he risks thirty-six grand just to break even. And if the ball lands on zero, he loses everything."
Someone nearby snorted.
"I believe the clinical term for that is an absolute moron."
The croupier’s brow twitched at the unusual betting pattern, but the wagers were valid.
He gave the wheel a practiced flick.
The wooden mechanism spun with a smooth whir.
A moment later, he sent the ivory ball racing in the opposite direction. It rattled around the outer track before striking the deflection pins and bouncing toward the numbered pockets.
The players watched with growing amusement, eager to see the newcomer get swallowed by his own mathematical ignorance.
Adrian ignored them.
He leaned slightly over the rail, his eyes following the ball as it circled the wheel.
[Ding!]
[D Grade Gamble Detected.]
[Wager Cashback Eligibility: Minimum wager threshold not met.]
Even the system seemed unimpressed with his strategy.
Then another notification appeared.
[Gamble of Chance Detected!]
[Fortune’s Edge Activated.]
Adrian’s smile widened slightly.