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

The young thief wept more profusely, softening the heart of the woman he'd robbed. She pulled ten dollars from her purse, handing it to him. "Remember, even hunger doesn't justify stealing. Here, buy yourself something to eat…" 


Overwhelmed with gratitude, the thief bowed repeatedly. The woman then turned to me. "Thank you, you're a good person. May good fortune always be with you." 


A good person? I was ironically amused. For the first time in my life, someone considered me good. 


The bus reached its terminus amidst the commotion. Dark and I escorted the thief off the bus. As he cried, he continued to bow. Dark, also moved by his display, pulled out fifty dollars and gave it to the boy, who was overcome with emotion. He was about to leave when I stopped him. 


The thief nodded, his utterance still a mix of incoherent sounds. 


The thief’s eyes widened; a mixture of fear and astonishment was clear. 


Chapter 145: The Thief's Lair