Raymond Balzac.
Known to the world as Baron Balzac, he was a born gambler.
There were days when he lost.
But within a few days, he would recover and end up winning even more than he had lost.
So much so that there were even rumors that the barony’s funds were being managed with money won through gambling.
Of course, such talk was merely a way to mock and belittle Baron Balzac, but he never really cared.
After all, he wasn’t the one going bankrupt from gambling—his opponents were.
However, there were situations where even gambling wouldn’t work—when the other party refused to play and held an overwhelming amount of funds.
Silverstar.
When they demanded usage rights to a region near the Marquisate of Ludvecia, Baron Balzac was genuinely outraged.
Why?
It was a completely barren land.
Not even fertile enough for a resort or retreat.
The Balzac Barony had no special resources.
Nobles typically lived off the taxes collected from their territory, but there wasn’t a single solid source of income in his land.
One might say that’s why he turned to gambling—but the truth was simply that Baron Balzac loved gambling.
He had often thought that if he weren’t a noble, he would have become a wandering gambler, traveling across the continent.
Confident in his own skills, he would set up games and challenge numerous opponents.
Some were frauds.
Some were seasoned experts.
And others were reckless fools hoping to score big.
Most left in tears or ended up rotting in prison.
For Baron Balzac, the real thrill of gambling was when a sore loser tried to retaliate with force—only for him to call, “Guards!” and watch them get subdued and dragged off to jail.
Victory. Victory. And victory again.
In the end, the winner of the gambling table was always himself.
Or so it should have been.
“Why are you hesitating?”
Right before him.
A young man with dark gray hair and jade-green eyes.
And Baron Balzac found himself utterly unable to move.
“Will you fold, or will you keep playing?”
At first glance, he had assumed the man was just another idle drifter.
Many travelers visited the barony, seeking to test their luck against him, and he had thought this man was just one of them.
But if that were the case, the situation at this table could only be described in one word—total defeat.
“Ghh…!”
Baron Balzac looked at his hand.
A flush.
A decent hand—not enough to win for sure, but too good to throw away.
A skilled gambler never focuses only on their own hand.
They observe everything—
The opponent’s gaze.
The flicker of their eyes.
The way they swallow.
The position of their fingers.
The slightest tremor in their hands.
And yet…
His opponent.
Something about him felt… familiar.
He reminded him of someone who had once visited the Balzac Barony before.
Yet, that person had been a blond and tanned delinquent, while this young man had fair skin and jade-green eyes—an entirely different person.
And yet, the two overlapped in Baron Balzac’s mind.
Confidence.
A belief that he had something unshakable to rely on.
What was the foundation of that confidence?
Baron Balzac gathered all his remaining chips and shoved them forward.
“Are you sure about going all in?”
“If I lose, I lose.”
“I see. Then…”
The young man laid down his cards.
“Take them. I fold.”
Placing his cards face down, he pushed the chips forward.
He had already secured most of the winnings, and Baron Balzac retrieved the chips with a triumphant grin—securing enough funds to recover.
Compared to his initial holdings, he had lost about 20%.
If he stopped here, he would walk away with a loss but not total ruin.
“Shall we continue?”
“Winning so much must get boring, no?”
“We’ll keep playing, won’t we?”
The young man spoke casually, as if it were nothing.
Baron Balzac reached toward the dealer.
“Bring me more.”
“Pardon? But…”
“Put it on my tab. I’ll win it back, won’t I?”
“A-Alright…”
As always, Baron Balzac borrowed from the casino, confident that he could win it back.
And so, the dealer and pit boss—nervous yet obedient—stacked another pile of chips onto his table.
“You think you’ve won just because you took a few hands off me?”
“I’m starting to think continuing would be pointless.”
“Hah, how full of yourself.”
Baron Balzac recalled his record so far.
24 rounds.
He had lost 19 times.
The remaining 5 wins had been barely enough to keep him afloat.
Had he not landed those few big wins, he would have already lost everything.
This was how real gambling traps worked.
Let the opponent win small bets repeatedly—
Then, at the decisive moment, crush them in a single strike.
The key was making them think, “This hand should be enough to win.”
Luring them into pushing all their money forward—
And then taking everything.
That was the true victory in gambling.
Or rather, it should have been.
But Baron Balzac realized something.
It wasn’t him who had been laying the trap.
He was the one being devoured—bit by bit.
It was like a giant statue named Baron Balzac standing still as the sharp winter wind scraped against its surface—wounds forming, but the statue, being made of stone, never realizing that it was being worn away.
“How the hell are you reading my hands so well? Do you have some kind of x-ray vision?”
“You just have to memorize well.”
“Hah. You’re telling me you’ve memorized every card?”
“Something like that.”
“Don’t give me that crap.”
Baron Balzac let out a dry chuckle, but just in case, he called the dealer over.
“Swap the deck.”
“Huh?”
“Get a fresh set of cards.”
A new deck was shuffled in.
As if proving that he wasn’t bluffing, the young man folded twice in a row in the next rounds—seemingly trying to observe as many cards as possible.
Impossible.
There had to be a trick.
This deck was no ordinary deck. It was a construction-grade deck, prepared by Baron Balzac himself, coated with a special solution that allowed subtle markings to be read under the right conditions.
Did the opponent notice?
Not at all.
He simply stared at the cards, occasionally murmuring to himself, glancing between his hand and the table.
And so—
“Fold.”
“Call. Fold.”
“Call.”
A bizarre pattern continued, where the player with the stronger hand always won while the weaker one lost.
Over and over.
“Tsk…”
Baron Balzac subtly signaled to the dealer.
The dealer discreetly adjusted the draw, and Balzac clenched his fist around his new hand.
‘I’ve won.’
It was a surefire winning hand.
Not the absolute strongest, but only a single possible combination could beat it.
And what were the odds that that hand had landed in his opponent’s hands?
From the dealer’s expression, it seemed clear—his opponent hadn’t drawn complete garbage, but he definitely didn’t have the winning hand.
A Full House? Maybe even Four of a Kind?
There was no way he could beat a Clubs Ace-High Straight Flush.
A Royal Flush.
The only hand that could possibly defeat it…
Would be another Royal Flush.
And if that happened, it would mean the dealer had deliberately sabotaged him.
“All in.”
Baron Balzac pushed every last chip forward.
“How about we just bet everything and go home?”
“Hmm. Should I?”
The young man didn’t even bother pushing his own chips forward.
“Alright, let’s wrap this up.”
Then, he laid his cards down.
“…What?”
A Spades Royal Flush.
The exact same combination.
“…No, what the hell is this…?”
Two players.
One deck.
And both landing a Royal Flush in the same round?
“What kind of cheating is this?!”
“Cheating? I took the cards as they were dealt, and I exchanged what I needed. That’s all.”
His voice was calm.
“Do you think it’s a scam? We can keep going.”
“…”
Baron Balzac clenched his fists in silence.
“Or… how about this?”
The young man extended a hand toward the dealer.
“Give me one card. Just one.”
“Eh? A-Alright…”
The dealer, visibly hesitant, handed over a single card.
“Let’s keep it simple. Up or down.”
The young man placed his hands over the card.
“Higher than a 7, or lower?”
…!!
Did he realize the deck was marked?
“What do you think?”
The young man held the card between his index and middle fingers, revealing the back.
No.
He might be insanely skilled, but he hadn’t caught the trick.
Baron Balzac barely suppressed a smirk.
“Down.”
That card was Ace of Hearts.
And the coating on the deck told him so.
“Is that so?”
The moment his fingers flipped the card—
Whooosh!
A fierce gust of wind suddenly blew through the room, momentarily blinding Baron Balzac.
And when he opened his eyes—
“?!?!”
“Too bad.”
The Ace of Hearts, which should have been in the young man’s hand—
Had turned into a King of Hearts.
“W-what…?”
“Thank you for playing.”
The young man casually tossed the King of Hearts onto the table and shrugged.
“Wait, hold on…! How did you do that?! What the hell just happened?!”
“Do what?”
The young man gave a slight smirk, dusting off his sleeves.
“What, do you think I cheated?”
“…”
Baron Balzac clenched his fists.
“Well then, I’ll be taking my winnings. It was a good match. See you around.”
And with that, the young man collected his chips, exchanged them for gold, and left.
* * *
I stuffed the gold coins from Baron Balzac’s defeat into my pockets.
But instead of heading to the Golden Carriage where my companions were waiting, I walked into an inn within the barony.
The mirror reflected my current appearance—black hair, jade-green eyes.
Kim Fenrir’s face and body.
As expected.
I had disguised myself as Kim Fenrir.
‘Since they already know my blond and tanned look is a disguise, using another face won’t be an issue later.’
At best, people would assume I was using an unusual transformation method.
No one would sense any magic on me, either.
Not only were they far away, but I had masked my presence well.
“Hmm…”
I extended my hand, summoning mana.
A powerful surge of magic energy condensed—
And then manifested into a card.
This was an advanced application of mana layering—
A technique of overlaying magic like a second skin.
[Isn’t that just cheating?]
A voice echoed within my mind.
‘He cheated first. No count.’
If it had been a pure test of skill, I wouldn’t have interfered.
But my opponent tried to cheat at the end.
‘Not to mention, he’s already planning to assassinate me.’
[Hmm. That’s fair, I suppose.]
I felt no guilt about what came next.
Saaaah—
Within the inn, I sensed a drowsy scent creeping through the air.
‘Hah.’
[So, what’s the plan?]
‘Nothing special.’
Because—
‘If a sudden tornado strikes, it’s just a natural disaster, isn’t it?’
A fraudster deserves divine punishment.
And with a snap of my fingers—
Bwooooom!!
Before the sleeping mist could fill the room,
A raging storm exploded outward—
Engulfing the entire Balzac Barony.
