CHAPTER 37: CHAPTER 37 "GAME BEGIN (2)"

The round continued, each man playing or discarding their cards.

The two men who had been so quick to belittle Ray kept shooting glances at him, they were waiting for him to falter.

The man in the white shirt played with quiet focus, occasionally looking at others while ignoring the bicker of other two.

As the rounds progressed and more cards were dealt, it became clear that luck wasn’t on everyone’s side.

The man with the pencil moustache cursed under his breath as he was forced to discard useful cards.

The man with black glasses, despite his initial arrogance, was starting to look flustered, his earlier confidence wavering.

Ray, meanwhile, played cautiously, observing while also found himself in a losing end. He wasn’t making rapid progress, but he wasn’t making any costly mistakes either.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the man in the white shirt laid down his final card, a King of hearts, completing his thirteenth stack.

A quiet satisfaction settled on his face, "I won."

"Well played," the NPC said, nodding in approval. "Mr. Owen wins the first game."

The man with black glasses slammed his remaining cards onto the table in frustration.

"Unbelievable! The cards were against me from the start!" He glared at his discarded pile as if it were personally responsible for his loss.

The man with the pencil moustache simply sighed and began gathering his cards.

Ray stacked his own hand neatly, with neutral expression on his face. He had lost, but he had learned more about his opponents in this single game than a dozen casual hands could have revealed.

The NPC began focusing on the virtual screen towards the center of the table, doubling the initial bets and delivering the winnings towards the man in the white shirt named Owen.

As the man in white shirt received the winning amount, the man with black glasses leaned forward, his eyes narrowed.

"Alright," he said, his voice tight with annoyance. "Beginner’s luck, that’s all it was."

"For the next game," he announced, his gaze sweeping over the remaining three players, a defiant glint in his eyes, "the bet is ten thousand coins."

Ten thousand coins might not be much but at the same time it isn’t a small amount which anyone can ignore. Even Ray who has millions in his account understood the value of 10000 coins.

"Ten thousand, then," the NPC confirmed, his voice unwavering despite the significant jump in the bet.

He gathered the cards, shuffling them like a professional. "Since Mr. Owen won the last round, Mr. Jill, you may begin this one."

The man with black glasses nodded curtly with more focused than before.

He picked up his five cards as they were dealt, his eyes immediately scanning them with intense focus.

He seemed to be overthinking every move already, clearly feeling the weight of the bet.

After a prolonged moment of hesitation, he finally laid down an Ace of Clubs, starting a fresh stack.

He then reluctantly discarded a King of Diamonds, a card that seemed to pain him to let go.

Next, it was Ray’s turn. He looked at his own hand.

A familiar mix: a Two, a Four, a Seven, a Nine, and a Queen. He also noticed a peculiar streak of luck.

His initial dealt hand already contained a Two of Clubs that could go right after the Ace the glasses man had just played.

He quickly placed his Two of Clubs next to the Ace. He then discarded his Queen of Hearts, observing the other players’ reactions.

The man in the white shirt, Owen, followed suit with his focused gaze.

He picked up the discarded King of Diamonds from the glasses man’s pile, then added a Queen of Diamonds from his hand, beginning a new stack.

His stacks, as always, seemed to be building steadily, quietly, and effectively. His actions were screaming Ray that the Owen seems professional in game of cards.

The man with the pencil moustache, however, was already looking stressed. He eyed his hand, then the cards on the table.

He had a glimmer of hope, a potential move that could set him up for a powerful sequence.

He had a Five of Spades and a Six of Spades in his hand, and a Seven of Spades had just been discarded by the man with black glasses earlier in the cycle.

This was his chance to form a solid stack.

He picked up the discarded Seven of Spades, his hand trembling slightly.

He then looked at his hand, about to place his Five of Spades, but his mind, racing with the thought of winning back his losses, slipped.

In his eagerness, he accidentally placed his Six of Spades instead of the Five. A small, almost imperceptible mistake.

The NPC, programmed to enforce rules, simply registered the invalid play, not allowing it.

"Invalid move," the NPC stated calmly. "A six cannot be played on a seven. Please select a valid card."

The man with the pencil moustache’s face fell. He stared at his hand, then at the table, realizing his blunder.

He had held a winning combination, a clear path to a strong sequence, but his own impatience had ruined it.

He let out a low growl, then slammed his palm on the table, barely containing a curse.

He had to discard a card he needed, a Three of Clubs, to make a valid play, sacrificing his promising Spade sequence.

His eyes, burning with frustration, darted from his ruined hand to Ray, as if it were somehow the young man’s fault. "This blasted luck!" he spat under his breath.

The game continued, the tension ratcheting up with every played card.

The man with black glasses continued to struggle, his face growing redder with each turn. He cursed audibly more often now, accusing the deck of being "against him."

Owen, on the other hand, was once again in a strong position, laying down cards with precise, calculated movements.

He had a solid run of cards going, and it looked like he was about to declare victory any moment.

Ray watched him closely, but also focused on his own hand.