Tyrone’s smirk faded.
He’d watched plenty of rookies lose money at this table. Most of them either walked away after the first loss or doubled down with desperation written all over their faces. Adrian did neither, he simply stood there, calm as ever.
Tyrone didn’t like that.
"You’ve got guts, kid." He pushed another two hundred onto the table. "I’ll give you that."
[DING!]
[B Grade Gamble Detected.]
Adrian barely registered the notification. His attention had narrowed to the dealer’s hands.
A few more patrons wandered over, drawn by the commotion. They clearly expected the newcomer to lose his second bet and disappear with his tail between his legs.
At the far end of the counter, a woman in a charcoal business suit had turned around on her stool. Her drink remained suspended halfway to her lips as she watched the table.
The dealer shook the cup.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Bang.
He lifted it.
Six. Four. Five.
"Fifteen," he announced. "Big."
A ripple of surprise went through the crowd. Tyrone stared at the dice. Then he forced out a laugh. "Beginner’s luck."
"Is it?" Adrian calmly pulled the four hundred dollars toward himself.
[DING!]
[Genuine Gamble Confirmed.]
[Victory Detected.]
[Cashback Activated.]
[Cashback Multiplier: 600%.]
[Reward: $1,200.]
[Victory Bonus: 100x Bonus Activated.]
[Congratulations! $20,000 has been deposited into your account.]
The breath caught in Adrian’s throat. A bead of sweat slipped down his temple. Since the night at the Crane Royale, winning had become something that belonged to another version of him.
Now, a casual bet in a run-down neighborhood bar had earned him more money than he’d seen in an entire year.
’This isn’t a hallucination.’ His fingers tightened around the edge of the table. ’Hallucinations don’t pay.’
And then, because he was still Adrian, his mind did what it had always done. It started calculating.
’Two bets. Two B Grade Gambles.’
’Big and Small had both received the same grade.’
’That meant the system wasn’t grading the outcome. It was grading the gamble itself.’
’The more difficult the wager, the higher the grade.’
"Come on," Tyrone said.
He tossed another two hundred onto the table.
"One more. You pick."
Adrian glanced at him. "No."
Tyrone raised an eyebrow.
"Not against you." He turned toward the dealer instead. "House bet."
The room quieted.
"Two dice. Exact double." Adrian placed four hundred dollars on the felt. "I’m calling a pair of fours."
Someone near the table let out a low whistle.
"Kid," a man said, almost sympathetically, "that’s ten to one for a reason."
[DING!]
[A Grade Gamble Detected.]
Adrian’s eyebrow lifted. ’Only A?’
He’d gone from B to A. So what would an S Grade look like? And Divine?
The dealer silently collected the money. He shook the cup.
Once. Twice. Again.
The sound seemed louder with every movement. For some reason, the dealer kept his eyes on Adrian, as though he were trying to decide whether the young man had any idea what he was doing.
Then came the final motion. Bang!
The cup lifted.
Four. Two. Four.
For one heartbeat, nobody spoke.
Then the bar exploded.
"No way!"
"You’re kidding!"
"That’s impossible!"
"He’s cheating!"
"Hey, tell me tomorrow’s lottery numbers!"
"Am I getting lucky tonight?"
"When is my wife finally leaving me?"
Laughter swept through the room.
Predicting a double wasn’t unheard of. Calling one correctly on your third bet of the night was another matter entirely.
Tyrone stood frozen. Sweat had begun to bead across his forehead. His eyes moved from the dice to Adrian, then back to the dice. He clicked his tongue, shoved his empty glass across the counter, and walked out without saying another word.
The dealer counted out the winnings in tens and twenties.
Four thousand dollars, plus Adrian’s four hundred dollar stake. Adrian gathered the cash into a neat stack. His hands were steady, his heart wasn’t.
[DING!]
[Genuine Gamble Confirmed.]
[Victory Detected.]
[Cashback Activated.]
[Cashback Multiplier: 900%.]
[Reward: $3,600.]
[Victory Bonus Activated.]
[Reward Obtained: Ferrari SF90 Stradale.]
[Location: Ferrari Halcyon City Showroom.]
Adrian froze, his eyes widened slightly. The Ferrari SF90 Stradale was the kind of car he’d spent years dreaming about. He’d once saved for months in Venturas just for the privilege of renting a car in that class for a weekend, and now the system had simply given him one.
’It just handed me a Ferrari.’ The thought was almost absurd. The system had paid him after every bet, even when he’d lost. And every victory seemed to come with something more ridiculous than the last.
Adrian still didn’t know where this was going. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. But there was one thing he knew, he wanted to keep going.
He looked around the bar. "Anyone else?" A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"I’m taking calls."
Nobody moved. The regulars stared at him as if they’d just watched lightning strike the building next door. Then a clear, confident voice came from the bar. "I would."
Every head turned. The woman who had been watching from the counter stood up.
She looked to be around her early twenties, with long, dark curls framing pale skin and amber eyes that held equal parts amusement and curiosity.
Her charcoal suit was fitted without being flashy, worn over a crisp white blouse. She carried herself with an effortless confidence that made it clear she wasn’t accustomed to asking permission.
She picked up her drink and crossed the room, then stopped on the opposite side of the table and set the glass down.
A small smile touched her lips. "Roxanne Hale." Her gaze settled on Adrian. "I make the big bets around here."