The gambling hall was massive in size, easily swallowing any smaller noble houses in one go.

The room was dense with so much chatter that Ryn could barely hear Sera over the noise.

"I'm so glad I went with you," she frowned.

Ryn didn't answer.

He reached into his ring and pulled out a mask, the same one that was given to him by Haywood. Even if he had other qualifications, there might be some nobles here who recognized him.

Sera saw the gesture and immediately did the same, putting on a white half-mask that was decorated with outrageous feather designs.

He couldn't even stop to sigh as they made their way through to a side area.

Ryn weaved past the crowded tables with steady, purposeful steps. The hall had plenty of games, noise, and bright-eyed gamblers throwing coin like water—but none of that interested him.

He only had two objectives: the invitation and the alchemist.

Sera hurried after him, nearly tripping over another guest's cloak.

"Ryn! You're going the wrong way! All the tables are back there—"

"That's why I'm not going there," he murmured.

She blinked. "Wait… what?"

Ryn stopped at the edge of the deeper hall, where the lighting dimmed and the chatter thinned. Ahead, tucked behind a carved archway of dark wood, a quieter corridor opened into a secondary chamber—one without any obvious signs and loud noises.

But the guards told the story.

Two men in fitted black coats stood motionless on either side of the entrance.

Their eyes immediately locked onto Ryn and Sera as they approached the entrance, scanning with precision on how they moved.

Sera froze. "…Oh no. Oh no no no. Ryn, that's not the main hall. That's—"

"The one I need," Ryn said calmly.

She grabbed his sleeve, realization plastered across her face.

"Ryn, that section is only for high-stakes players! The wealthy! The dangerous! You can't just walk in!"

"I can," he replied, "if I'm invited."

"Invited by who?!" Sera flailed.

Ryn didn't answer.

Instead, he reached into his cloak and felt the Red Fox's emblem. He also felt the mysterious black metal slip, but decided against it.

He stopped a few paces away, holding their gazes steadily behind his mask.

Sera went silent.

With a flash of the emblem, the guards nodded, no reactions like the ones at the entrance, just pure professionalism.

They stepped aside, revealing a single long table at the center of a dim, high-ceilinged chamber. Only four players sat there, framed by the soft glow of a manalite chandelier above.

Ryn drew a slow breath and walked forward.

The players were already mid-game, hands poised and eyes sharp. A mound of gold coins sat piled in the center, almost like a dragon's hoard.

Even at a glance, Ryn could tell the amount was obscene, enough to purchase a mansion in the Raias capital…or feed an entire village through winter.

Knowing the etiquette, he slipped into an open seat at the far side of the table. Sera slid into the last seat beside him, stiff as a board beneath her mask.

The dealer gave them only the briefest glance before continuing.

"How much, sir?"

Ryn nodded and held up five fingers, which in this case meant 5,000 gold coins. They played on the casino's money, after all, none of these people would bring that many coins into the hall.

The game on the table was unmistakable.

Primero.

Each player held two private cards, weaving their fortune from five shared cards placed one by one at the center. Betting rose with each reveal…and so did the lies.

Primero wasn't about luck. It was about reading the small betrayals people made when their coin and pride were on the line.

A game built for people who lived by instinct, and one that just so happens to be Ryn's secret weapon.

Once, in his former life, no one in his division would sit with him during a Primero match. It was the only thing he could confidently say he was better at than the Hero Party.

The dealer slid out the final communal card, and the betting resumed in a quiet, dangerous rhythm. Ryn watched, not the pot, but the people.

At a table like this, the players revealed more than their cards ever could.

Across from him sat a young noble, who didn't even pretend to hide his identity. His bright yellow spiky hair along with how he slammed three gold chips forward with theatrical flair, told Ryn all he needed to know.

The two hired women behind him clapped softly, leaning in with exaggerated admiration. He preened under their attention, radiating confidence that had nothing to do with the cards in his hand.

A noble brat. And judging from the steady decline of his coin pile, he was also the biggest loser at the table.

On the noble's side sat a sharp-featured woman, as though bored with his antics. Her dark attire blended into the dim lighting, a raven-feathered hat finishing the look.

"I raise," she said calmly, pushing forward a modest amount—not enough to chase the noble away, but enough to irritate him.

She had already shot Ryn a cold stare when he entered.

To Ryn's left sat a woman with soft brown eyes and a white camellia pinned elegantly in her hair. Unlike the noble's companions, she exuded a certain grace and subtle charm that needed no performance.

When she tapped her finger against her cards, the camellia bobbed slightly.

A gentle, thoughtful motion.

She turned to Ryn with a warm, lingering smile, as though she were already amused just by his presence.

"I'll stay in," she murmured, sliding in her chips.

Ryn already knew the type of player she was. One that played for the fun, the high of winning big rather than the coins themselves.

Lastly, an old man sat at the center of the curved table, exhaling cigar smoke as he pushed forward a single chip.

"Me too, I call."

His robe was simple, and his gray hair tied back neatly…but his eyes.

Ryn could feel the weight of the man's gaze resting on him, even before the hand had concluded.

The final round of betting circled back to the noble brat, who puffed out his chest and shoved nearly half his remaining stack into the center.

"Let's end this," he boasted, flashing his teeth in a grin too wide to be genuine.

Both raven and old man looked at their cards for a while before throwing them back to the dealer.

Then came the camellia. She didn't hesitate, just smiled sweetly as she matched the noble's wager.

The noble's hand was good, but Camellia's hand beat him by far. She swept the mountain of gold toward her with gentle confidence.

The noble's face went red, clearly not expecting the loss as his two attendants tried to soothe him. Both people who folded nodded, though the old man seemed to be a bit regretful that he didn't join that last hand.

Then the camellia woman looked at Ryn.

Just a glance—a small smile.

But it landed like a challenge and an invitation all at once.

Sera sat beside him, color drained from her face like a ghost. When Ryn tried to regard her, the only thing that came out was a small squeak.

He sighed, and tapped the table, indicating that he wanted to join the next hand.

The dealer gathered the cards with smooth, practiced motions.

A fresh deck slid across her fingers, the soft shff of the manalite-treated paper cutting through the heavy silence.

A new round.

Ryn could already feel the atmosphere tightening.

As soon as the third communal card slid onto the table, Ryn checked them—both were low and unimpressive, but they were in sequence, which meant there was a possibility for a straight.

Everyone hesitated for a breath, recalculating their odds.

Ryn didn't even blink.

He reached forward—

…and slammed a stack of gold into the center.

The entire table jolted.

The chips hit the wood with a sharp CRACK, loud enough to draw eyes from the other tables. The camellia woman's smile vanished into stunned silence. The black-feathered woman froze mid-gesture, while the noble brat choked on his own wine.

Even the dealer's hands halted in the air.

Sera nearly levitated out of her seat.

"R–RYN?!" she whispered, though it looked like she was on the verge of screaming.

"I raise," he said, his voice coming out calm and authoritative.

Silence swallowed the table.

No one knew if Ryn had the best hand—or absolutely nothing. Even he didn't know what cards he had.

But he knew one thing:

He had their full attention now.

The dealer's voice was barely steady.

"…Players, match the wager or fold."

All eyes turned to Ryn.

He leaned back in his chair, unreadable behind his mask as the mountain of gold gleamed beneath the lanternlight.

This was going to be a long night.

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