The lanternlight stretched across the felt, glinting off the absurd mound of gold Ryn had shoved forward. Around half of what he borrowed from the House.

All four players stared at him, trying to decipher what he was trying to get at. But as always, Ryn kept a straight face.

Then a soft, melodic voice broke the silence.

"Well…that was unexpected from our new player?"

She tapped her cards lightly.

A scoff came from her left.

"Unexpected is one word for it."

"Idiotic is another," the brat muttered, not bothering to hide his disdain.

"Who shoves that much gold on the first thing in?"

The quiet man finally spoke.

"…Who are you, exactly?"

Ryn drummed his fingers once on the felt.

"Someone here to play," he said.

"That's all?" Raven pressed.

"That's all that matters," Ryn replied.

A small, sharp silence followed.

Then, with all the gungho they could muster, the four players immediately called the raise.

Chips clattered forward in a synchronized scrape. Confidence, or in this case, pride—took the better of them.

Ryn didn't react.

But beneath the table, his knee shifted.

Just barely enough for the underside of the felt to bump lightly against the cards in front of him.

His private cards lifted, barely an inch. They lingered in the air for a second…but it was enough.

[Enhanced Senses]

Time stretched as his eyesight sharpened. The faces of his cards flashed in crisp detail before settling flat again.

It was perfect.

And with how aggressively everyone had called…They were all playing like they were holding something decent.

Which meant the pot was about to explode.

Exactly what he wanted.

The dealer hesitated only a heartbeat before sliding out the fourth card.

A whisper of cardboard against felt.

The table leaned in as one.

Eight of Suns.

The table was quiet. But with [Enhanced Senses], Ryn knew what everyone's reactions were already.

Mr. Noble wasn't even a hard read.

His sour face said everything—he'd bricked his hand.

He'd try to act brave for one more round, then fold the moment pressure landed.

Next was Ms. Raven. She didn't show much, but the slight bite on her lip, paired with the rapid flick of her eyes?

Bluff incoming.

She wanted to scare the table off the pot before the final card.

Ms. Flower, on the other hand—

Her pupils dilated, which was a sign of many things, some of which include fear…or excitement. The rest of her body language was hard to read, as she hid her hands under the table.

He'd have to wait for another card to get the full picture.

Lastly, Mr. Quiet. He didn't move at all, no changes in breathing, no rapid eye movements. The man calmly took a hit of his cigar, then casually placed 2,500 gold coins on the pot.

Even the dealer hesitated, fingers hovering mid-shuffle before she stopped to collect it into a pile.

Judging by the sudden tension from the others, this wasn't a move the old man ever made.

And the amount?

Exactly what Ryn had left.

Like a silent message.

I challenge you.

Then, without missing a beat. Ryn answered without hesitation, shoving his entire pile forward.

Sera nearly choked behind him.

"Wha— hey! That's reckless!" she hissed, grabbing his shoulder like he'd just gambled away her inheritance.

He kept his hand on the felt, posture steady, eyes fixed on the table.

"Trust me," he murmured.

"I don't," Sera hissed back. "Not when you're gambling with loans!"

Her voice cracked on the last word, and she immediately straightened, realizing all four players had turned toward her.

But the table had already moved.

Almost in unison, the other three threw their cards into the middle, a sign of surrender, and also respect for the one on one.

Ryn rested his fingers lightly against the felt.

"…You made that raise for a reason."

Mr. Quiet exhaled a thin stream of smoke, embers glowing beneath his mask.

"I make all my raises for a reason."

"At the exact amount to put me all-in?" Ryn questioned.

"A test," he said simply.

Ryn tapped the felt once with two fingers.

"What were you testing?"

"You," the old man replied.

"How you react under pressure. Whether you break under the pressure…"

A faint smile tugged beneath his mask.

"And yet," he murmured, "you called without blinking."

Ryn nodded slowly.

"That's because I have a Sequence."

The entire table froze, even the noble brat turned from his attendant to stare at Ryn.

The old man went still.

"…You're bluffing."

Ryn didn't even look at him. He just picked up his two cards and slid them toward Sera with a lazy flick of his fingers.

"Mind checking?"

Sera's breath hitched.

She looked at him, then at the cards, then at the entire table staring at her.

"Wha—, I—"

Her voice nearly cracked, but the room was too silent for anyone to miss it.

"Go on," he murmured, completely at ease. "No pressure."

She swallowed, picked up the cards, and peeked.

Her eyes widened instantly.

Everybody at the table caught it.

Ryn didn't bother reclaiming the cards. He just tapped the felt once.

"Told you. Sequence."

The whole table erupted in murmurs, like an unstoppable wildfire had just spread through the area.

But the old man…

He leaned back, cigar ember glowing, studying Ryn with a stare that hid something.

Something unmistakable, something that Ryn had seen his countless shares of—

Fear.

"…Interesting," he murmured, attempting to deflect.

That was when he tapped twice under the table.

A faint glow pulsed across his fingertips, it was so small against the hanging light that no one would notice it.

No one except Ryn.

Ryn's eyes narrowed a fraction.

So this is how you want to play.

The dealer reached for the final card, hands trembling.

Her fingers hovered above the deck…until Ryn activated his skill.

[Aquila]

The world seemed to slow, and color drained from the world. The only thing Ryn could see now…was the path of light.

But this time, it pointed at the old man.

Ryn squinted, and finally saw it.

A faint line, almost like a thread, was connected to the card being placed on the table.

It condensed on the card face, almost like a veil of some sort. A shimmer that folded over the card, changing what the players and dealer would see. It created a new face, a completely advantageous one.

Ryn knew what it was.

[Light Manipulation], but at a low rank, probably D or C-Rank.

A cheater's trick.

The card finally landed on the table.

Five of Moons.

Mr. Quiet leaned back, knowing that his cheat worked and he got the card he wanted. He took a puff before jamming his cigar into the tray, an arrogant look forming on his face.

"Tough luck." the man said, as he flipped his hand and threw them onto the table.

Eight of Moons and Eight of Clouds

Combined with the first three cards, which were the Five of Stars, Six of Stars, and Nine of Suns.

The man had achieved it. A Full House. Three of a kind and a pair.

"Even if you have a Sequence, I still beat it by a mile." he quipped, already moving to hoard the pile of money.

But Ryn's gaze didn't linger on the revealed cards, it lingered on the thread. They were still connected to him, glowing faintly as something traveled to and from.

Then the thought hit him. The man was supplying the connection with magic.

So, what would happen if Ryn were to break it…?

Let's see what you're hiding.

He raised his fingers lightly, with no theatrics, as he pointed his index at the thread.

[Orion]

The Blessing heeded his call, activating as a small force burst through the air, severing the thread in one go. Combined with the light overhead, it was near invisible.

Mr. Quiet recoiled in pain, as if someone had just cut him. But the pain wasn't the thing he had to worry about—it was the cards.

The illusion flickered, then shattered, revealing what the true card was.

The Eight of Stars.

The table gasped.

Not because of the Eight itself, but because it was BETTER for the old man.

He had achieved Quad Eights.

The old man's mask whipped toward the card, and for a moment, a heartbeat—he was confused.

Then a wild, manic grin exploded across his face.

A full-bodied, unrestrained, feral howl of triumph.

"HAHAHAHA—!"

He slammed his palm on the table, rattling the chips.

"EVEN IF YOU BROKE IT—EVEN IF YOU SAW THROUGH ME—"

His voice cracked upward, shrill with ecstatic vindication—

"THE GODS FAVOR ME!!"

The declaration BOOMED across the gambling hall.

The High-Gamblers lounge filled with people from outside the hall, rushing in to see what the noise was all about.

Then, the room erupted.

"Quad!?"

"No way…"

"That's impossible, what is the probability!?"

The old man basked in the noise, soaking in his victory.

"UNBEATABLE!" he thundered. "UNTOUCHABLE!"

"THIS IS FATE—MY FATE—"

He leaned across the table, mask inches from Ryn's, voice dropping into a victorious snarl.

"Your Sequence means NOTHING.

You lose."

…

A silence ran through the room.

Sera held her breath. Then burst out laughing like she was a little kid again.

"There's no way you actually did it…!"

"Ryn—!"

Her hands flew to her mouth the instant the name left it.

The room froze.

Ryn didn't.

He lifted one hand, casual, eyes never leaving the table.

"Win," he corrected smoothly.

"She's saying 'win.' Dialect thing."

The old man's mask tilted toward Sera, stunned.

She nodded, a bit fast, her shoulders tensed.

"Y–yes. Win."

Ryn sighed into his hand, pretending to hide his embarrassment…but behind it, he was smiling.

"Sera," he murmured, tapping the edge of his cards.

"Would you do the honors?"

Sera nodded, still flustered, but her hands moved with surprising steadiness.

She reached forward, fingertips brushing Ryn's cards…and flipped them open.

Seven of Stars.

Nine of Stars.

A murmur swept the room.

Ryn tapped the table once, drawing every gaze to the board.

Five of Stars.

Six of Stars.

Eight of Stars.

A perfect line.

A constellation laid out across the felt.

Sera's breath caught.

The old man's shoulders stiffened.

Even the dealer forgot to breathe.

Ryn leaned back, voice soft but unmistakable.

"A Star Sequence."

The old man's triumph shattered.

Every spectator in the room leaned in.

Ryn's gaze never left the table as he set a single finger atop the fifth card— then traced the full run in one smooth, inevitable motion.

"Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine."

The old man recoiled as if struck.

Ryn finally looked up.

Behind his mask, his smile reached his eyes.

"I win."

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