Small tiger

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

Following Lord Alaric into the establishment, I was greeted by the sight of a showcase filled with antiquated beepers, telecommunication devices, mobile phones, and watches on the first floor. Nearby, a rack displayed an assortment of second-hand leather jackets and fur coats. 


The young attendant at the counter appeared to recognize Lord Alaric and greeted him warmly, stating, “Boss, you’ve arrived! Our proprietor is waiting for you upstairs…” 


With an elegant wave of his hand, Lord Alaric led me up the stairs. 


The second floor opened into a spacious hall, minimally decorated. The floor was merely covered with linoleum, and in the centre hung a punching bag. To the north stood a managerial desk, while a ring of sofas encircled it, and on the right was a card table. 


Upon our entrance, I noted that there were already eight or nine individuals present in the hall. 


Chapter 360: The Set-Up