During the years when I ascended to the pinnacle of gambling, I was enveloped in a world where luck intertwined seamlessly with strategy. The thrill of risk was my constant companion, and every hand dealt was an opportunity to weave a tale of fortune and fate.

In those vibrant nights, the casino lights flickered like stars, each glimmer promising untold possibilities. The air was thick with the scent of anticipation and the intoxicating perfume of ambition. My every decision was calculated, and executed with precision, as I danced with the tides of chance, confident in my ability to bend them to my will.

I became known not only for my remarkable skill but also for a certain charisma that drew others to me. Players regarded me with a mix of admiration and trepidation, for I was not merely a participant in the game—I was its master. The cards whispered secrets to me, and I understood the language of the dice as if they belonged to a realm where I reigned supreme.

Yet, amidst the glamour and glory, this intoxicating world concealed its shadows. The very allure that elevated me to greatness also harboured treachery and deception. I found myself ensnared in a web woven by those who coveted my prowess, eager to see me fall from grace.

In those years, I walked a fine line between triumph and disaster, relishing every victory while remaining ever-vigilant against the unseen perils that lurked in the shadows.

The Years I Was The Gambling God

Stepping outside, we found ourselves at the arcade. We sought out a secluded corner to settle down. Rolf handed me a cigarette and then pulled out a wad of cash from his pocket. He extracted a hundred-dollar bill and, with an air of concern, offered it to me. 


“Have you lost all your money and can’t afford to eat? Here, this hundred is from your cousin!” 


I accepted the bill, uttering a soft thank you. After a moment’s thought, he pulled out five hundred more, his demeanour exuding genuine care. 


“Ah, what can I say? You are my brother. This five hundred is a loan; return it when you get your paycheck…” 


I accepted it once again, fully aware that this scoundrel harboured ulterior motives. I refrained from asking, patiently awaiting his next words. As I expected, after a brief exchange, he shifted the subject. 


“Lupan, is it possible to meet with that Dark fellow?” 


Feigning ignorance, I looked up and inquired, “What do you want to meet him for?” 


Chapter 97: The Fool