Chapter 2
Sarin, whose mind went blank, walked back to the hotel where the car entered with bills in her hand. The staff looked at her in bewilderment as she passed by them and headed towards the casino, filled with the dazzling light of chandeliers.
Momentarily overwhelmed by the bright lights, she closed one eye. Sarin showed her passport, which was in her bag, and made her way towards the area filled with the sound of slot machines.
“Please exchange these.”
When the staff asked about the chip denomination, Sarin counted the blood-stained bills in her hand – five $100 bills, totaling $500. With a trembling gaze, Sarin responded to the staff.
“For the $500 bill, I just need one chip.”
The staff, upon seeing the blood-stained bills, furrowed their brow for a moment, but soon a chip came out of the slot. Sarin took it and turned her back without hesitation, passing the guards. She passed by people mechanically staring at the screens of the dazzling slot machines and those playing games with dealers.
If luck was something she still possessed, the casino was the best place to test it.
By chance, she met Owen. Even though she had vaguely thought she might not be able to see him as she came this far, she met him, but she couldn’t hold onto the man.
Even if she had to board the returning plane, she wanted to test her luck one more time. If her luck was good, she thought she would meet him again. She still hadn’t sorted out what kind of story to tell him or how to do it, but Sarin thought of betting it all on this casino game.
It was just like the game she used to play with her older sister when she was young. The game they played when they were indecisive. Sometimes they did it by plucking flower petals, and sometimes they made bets to decide how many white bicycles would pass in front of the supermarket.
Sarin stopped in front of the roulette table.
With numbers from 1 to 36, 0 and 00, and 38 numbers drawn on the circular board, the game involved people betting on the numbers that the dealer’s ball would land on. Usually, people didn’t make rash decisions by choosing just one number. They would select multiple numbers, sides, or colors of the divided numbers, aiming to win double or triple the amount.
The roulette spun in the dealer’s hand. The white ball began to rapidly rotate on the roulette’s wheel.
“Bet down, please.”
At the dealer’s voice telling them to place bets, everyone with playing chips starts betting. As Sarin watched the chips being placed around for fun, she placed her money chip on the number in front of her without even having time to change it to a play chip.
Then the man next to her hit her on the arm and her chip fell on number 11. Sneakly, the man looked at her with an interesting eye, and soon bet the same money chip between No. 11 and No. 14.
“No more bets.”
The bell rang and the dealer’s words to no longer bet were heard. The chaotic movement of people’s hands ceased.
As the white ball rolled around the wheel for five more turns, Sarin realized she had stepped onto the test ground of fate.
“No. 11.”
It was a straight bet, offering a 35-fold return on the $500 chip for betting on just one number. Sarin fixed her gaze on the number with an incredulous look.
The man next to her pushed her hand away and cheered as he collected the chips from the dealer.
“I placed the bet,”
Sarin protested. When she spoke with a quiet but firm voice, the dealer’s gaze wavered. The man’s gaze instantly turned menacing.
Coincidentally, they both bet with money chips. The man had made a split bet on two numbers, expecting a 17-fold return, and confidently collected both his 17-fold and her 35-fold winnings.
“This is my bet. You dropped your chip like a fool,” the man said, his gaze briefly glanced down at Sarin’s feet. There, lying beneath, was a $500 chip. Sarin looked at the dealer, silently asking for help, but the dealer awkwardly smiled and did not intervene in the dispute.
Even if the dealer had clearly seen it, they couldn’t meddle in such disputes. If what he saw was wrong, or even if it was right, he would definitely get caught up in a huge headache. The man stretched out his hand, which had tattoos all the way to the back of his hand. His gravelly accent was strong.
As Sarin was about to request a CCTV review, someone tapped her shoulder. “Don’t do it. Unless you want to be found with a bullet in your head on the street.”
Someone whispered a warning in a low voice. The men in black suits standing behind the man were all looking at Sarin.
“He’s from the Red Mafia.”
It was a warning not to add to the already abundant corpses found frozen or murdered anywhere in Eden City in the morning. Checking the CCTV would be a simple matter, but even the casino was reluctant to get involved in the dispute, as it could lead to serious consequences.
Even if it was certain, Sarin’s lips dried up at the warning that she would definitely become a corpse the moment she left the hotel.
The woman who gave the warning clicked her tongue low.
With the arrival of 35 times the luck, misfortune naturally followed. Those who already knew that the man was from the Red Mafia had kept their distance and avoided him. Sarin was the only one who had placed a bet next to him at the roulette table.
The man, apparently satisfied with the explanation of the intervening person that resolved all conflicts, tossed a chip to her. The woman who had just pitied Sarin gladly accepted the $500 chip and cheered. His torn lips formed a satisfied smile as he looked at her.
“Why don’t you pick up the chips you dropped? This time, try betting. The goddess of luck might be on your side.”
The man chuckled and spoke in an incomprehensible English accent. Her fist clenched at some point, and her torn palm stung painfully when her nails dug deeply. The sharp pain brought Sarin back to her senses.
It’s okay. It wasn’t her money anyway.
35 times.
The dizzying amount automatically passed through Sarin’s mind, but it wasn’t worth risking her life. She remembered how terrified she had been when she saw a frozen corpse on the street on her first day. It’s better than dying. It’s better than dying…
Maybe the money could solve things.
People were truly cunning. She said she would only see how much luck she had left, and yet, she felt upset that the money had flown away before her eyes.
Crash!
Strangely, her chest burned with hot anger. Just as she was about to burst into tears, a thud was heard, making her head turn. Someone’s upper body was hal-stuck into the slot machine next to the roulette table. The person’s head was inside the broken monitor, and their hands and legs were wriggling.
And then, the leather gloves gripping the person’s neck became visible. Slowly, Sarin’s gaze followed to confirm the owner of the gloves.
“If you were going to tamper it so clumsily, you shouldn’t have started, guest.”
A few strands of neatly combed black hair flowed down over his forehead. His golden eyes shone brightly, like the color of chandelier lights. The man who had just inserted his opponent into the slot machine with his shining eyes withdrew his hand and brushed it off. The guards following behind him took care of the rest.
The staff removed the man, who had bloodied his face and lost consciousness, from the machine and took him somewhere, while a staff member, still smiling, placed a sign in front of the slot machine that read “Out of Order.”
The onlookers, who had briefly gathered around the commotion, quickly dispersed and returned to their own games.
A man in a sleek suit walked on the red carpet, taking off his leather gloves one at a time. With each graceful movement, his perfectly fitted suit displayed the presence of the muscles within.
“Is there a problem?”
Approaching Sarin, who was standing still, he asked in a businesslike tone.
“How long has it been, Owen? There’s no problem here. Isn’t that right, miss?”
A momentary expression of defeat crossed the man’s face. However, he casually stood up and patted Owen’s back, reassuring him that there was no problem.
Sarin was petite enough that she had to raise her head to look at the man’s face. Her 160-centimeter height was average in her home country, but here, she seemed small and fragile.
Owen tilted his head and looked down at Sarin’s head. Her face, covered by long hair, was pale. Seeing that she seemed to want to say something but ultimately didn’t, he frowned without even bothering to look at the man behind him, who was patting his back.
The hands that had just made it impossible to tell whether the man was dead or alive were now reaching out to the countless chips
Then, as if he had been watching all along, he precisely located the $500 chip the man claimed to have bet.
“It’s stained with blood.”
It was blood from Sarin’s palm.
Owen’s slow words were directed at the man, who was smaller in stature than himself. His forced smile was familiar, but his name didn’t come to mind. Owen turned to face the man and familiarly grabbed both of his wrists, flipping his palms back and forth for a brief inspection.
“O, Owen?”
After releasing one of the man’s hands, Owen reached out with his free hand, and a man standing nearby, with an expressionless face, placed a knife on the man’s palm. And in an instant, things escalated.
