Chapter 4

A few hours later, Lance was left with less than 15 big blinds. They were playing tournament style, and they are already at the 1000/2000 blind level. No matter what hands he got, he kept losing, winning only enough to keep himself in the game. 

"Let's change," Lance suddenly said. "Kenji, you will play and I'll guide you." 

"Huh?" Kenji was midway downing a can of beer when he sputtered and pointed to himself. "M-me?"

"No, I'm going to get his men to play for your debt."

"Jeez, tone down on your sarcasm…" Kenji glanced at Mr. T and asked, "That's fine?"

Mr. T shrugged. "Go ahead… He's playing on your behalf anyway, and you are our VIP customer. In return, you have to add one more thing into the debt." 

"What?" Lance looked at the man warily. From his memory, Mr. T always had a friendly appearance. But beneath that warmth was a shrewd businessman—one who dealt in every kind of illegality, yet remained a businessman through and through. He'd smile as he placed bandaids over a kid's wounds—wounds his own men had caused.

Mr. T waved the waiter who was refilling his glass of wine away and leaned forward. "You."

Lance glared at him. "No."

"What the hell do you want with him?" Kenji asked, his curiosity edged with suspicion.

"You're a handsome young man. When you were a kid, I told your mother I'd forgive all her debts if you came to work for me when you turned eighteen. But she refused." He chuckled. "She actually slapped me for even suggesting it. Lucky for her, I've always had a soft spot for beautiful single mums."

Lance's anger flared again. "Work for you? I know exactly what you want to use me for."

Mr. T shrugged. "It's good money. Besides, if you'd rather change the player and call the shots from the backseat... then put yourself on the table."

Lance paused, eyes narrowing. "Not unless you agree to two terms."

Mr. T laughed, waving a dismissive hand. "Go on. Let's hear it."

"First, you ban this idiot from every underground casino you own."

Mr. T sighed, feigning disappointment. "Shame... he's quite the donor to my empire. And the second?"

"I'm not going to sit in the backseat. I'll be the dealer."

Hearing his term, Mr. T raised an eyebrow, his expression a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "That's it? Ban Young Master Nakamura and let you deal?"

Lance met his gaze without flinching. "Yes."

Mr. T frowned slightly, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. "Why?"

Lance's eyes flicked briefly to the dealer, who stood quietly by the table, his hands stiff at his sides. Lance's voice lowered, carrying a cold edge. "I don't want anyone messing with my life, not even in the smallest way."

For a moment, the room fell silent. Everyone eyed Lance with increasing suspicion. Mr. T, however, seemed intrigued. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers still tapping rhythmically against the armrest.

"Hm," Mr. T mused, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I like your spine, kid. Very well, I accept your terms. But if you screw this up, you'll wish you were still in the backseat."

"Can you deal?" Kenji whispered. 

"Cards are cards. If I can deal with UNO cards, I can deal with this. How hard can this be?"

"Well, yea… But…" Kenji had a nervous look. "Are you sure you can deal? They don't take misdeals here lightly."

"I'm not that stupid. I can deal. Shut up and play properly. My ass is in your hand." His voice dropped to a near growl as he glanced back at the dealer, who now stood quietly observing, sensing the shift in control.

Kenji seemed to hesitate, but with no time to argue further, he nodded, forcing himself to focus on the game.

Lance turned his attention back to Mr. T, who had been watching him intently throughout the exchange. With a determined glint in his eye, Lance spoke up, his voice steady. "Deal?"

Mr. T leaned back, his fingers lightly tracing the rim of his glass as he studied Lance. A slow smile crept across his face, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's a good deal."

The air grew thick with anticipation as everyone took their positions, the stakes suddenly feeling much higher. Lance's heart pounded in his chest, but he kept his focus sharp. He wasn't going to let anyone walk over him—not now.

Kenji glanced at Lance again, his expression torn between disbelief and worry. But Lance didn't spare him a glance this time; his gaze was fixed firmly on the cards in front of him, each one a potential stepping stone to the game he was about to control.

Mr. T nodded. "It's a good deal." 

He then signaled the dealer to leave. After Lance sat down at the dealer's seat, Mr. T said, "Every misdeal is another $1,000 on top of the debt, just so you know." 

Lance nodded. He collected the cards and shuffled them, but after a while, he said, "These cards are a bit too bent and used." 

He took out a pack of cards from his pocket and said, "Luckily I have a new pack in my hands." 

"We don't use those cheap packs," one of Mr. T's men said. 

"Cards are cards," Lance said as he looked at the men. "Or are you saying that your boss can't win without his own cards?" 

"How dare–" 

The man's words were stopped by Mr. T's glare. 

The tension in the air thickened as Lance clumsily shuffled the cards. His movements were jerky, deliberate in their imperfection, but he was getting the job done. Each time a card slipped from his hand, it only added to the weight of the moment. He looked up at Mr. T, a fleeting smirk played at the corners of his mouth.

Mr. T didn't flinch, his eyes narrow but unreadable, his hands resting casually on the table. The man who had challenged Lance about the cheap cards was now quietly fuming, unable to muster a response as Mr. T's glare had effectively silenced him.

Lance dealt the cards with a little more confidence, careful not to drop any more this time, though a few cards still slipped across the table. The previous dealer watched him closely, but Lance barely noticed. He'd made his point, and now it was time to move forward.

"Let's play?" Lance asked innocently, the lightness of his voice contrasting with the heavy atmosphere that enveloped the room. He spread the cards out for the players, checking for any signs of tricks or cheating. After a quick inspection and receiving the nod from Mr. T, Lance took a deep breath and dealt the first hand, his focus unwavering despite the stakes.

"Remember," Mr. T said, his voice like velvet, but laced with warning, "one misdeal and it's another $1,000 added to the debt."

Lance glanced up, eyes narrowing. "Don't worry, Mr. T. I won't be making any mistakes."

Kenji shot him a nervous glance but said nothing, focusing on the cards in front of him.

The game began, the sound of chips being pushed into the pot the only noise in the room. Lance's hand was steady as he dealt the cards, though there was an underlying pressure that weighed on him with every passing moment. Every move, every card, would be watched. He couldn't afford to make a single mistake.