Casino Wizard

There were police in this world too.

The City Guard.

But they weren’t just police. They were a mix of law enforcement, military police, and correctional officers—all rolled into one.

Right now, Mario was locked up in a holding cell under their jurisdiction.

His charge? Assault.

The victims? His own subordinates.

One had a broken back, another had a cracked skull.

Even in a time when violence was commonplace, an incident of this scale couldn’t just be brushed aside.

And the reason I knew all these details so well…

“Hyden. Mario Del Pozo is currently being held in a temporary detention facility in the Trattori District.”

“His condition?”

“He refused dinner last night. He’s been rambling and demanding to see his men.”

Because my associate was none other than the commander of the City Guard.

Shield Knight Jerome.

It wasn’t even his district’s jurisdiction, but…

A ruined gambling hall owner with no money left to his name? That was someone Jerome could toy with if he wanted.

There wasn’t even a need to be discreet anymore.

“Nobody’s going to complain. You’re a noble now, after all.”

And not just any noble—a baron, personally appointed by two members of the royal family.

Nobody would dare penalize a City Guard officer for lending a hand to a well-connected up-and-coming noble.

This wasn’t bribery or influence peddling. It was just a man in uniform offering a bit of convenience to someone well-acquainted with the upper class.

“Still, I should pay you something, right?”

“You weren’t planning to?”

“Here. Use this to grease some wheels. Take a little for yourself, too.”

I handed Jerome a cigarette case.

But inside, instead of tobacco powder—money.

Jerome took it naturally, nodding stiffly. He didn’t even bother checking the amount.

“I’ll put it to good use.”

“Then…”

“You can go see Mario now. The guards will cooperate. Or at the very least, they’ll turn a blind eye.”

In short, I had free rein.

It wasn’t even a stretch.

What guard would refuse a noble who had just given them a nice little allowance?

…

I made my way to Mario’s holding cell.

“Welcome, Baron.”

“Where is Mario?”

“Right this way. If you’d like privacy, we can step away.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

A uniformed guard escorted me.

The detention area housed about a dozen men—people either locked up for various crimes or awaiting trial.

The conditions were, of course, abysmal.

Food, water, and shelter were provided just enough to keep them alive. Beyond that, humane treatment was out of the question.

Among the prisoners with despondent faces, one man stood out—a particularly large middle-aged man.

Mario.

The fallen owner of Tantonia’s Dice, brought to ruin by the players I sent.

He was sitting on the floor, mumbling to himself.

“Bruno…? No, no. That coward would never betray me… or maybe? He always said he wanted to go back home. Maybe he pulled one last job to make that happen? Damn it, I should’ve dealt with him first…”

He was trying to figure out who had stabbed him in the back.

Seemed like he believed that finding the traitor was his first step to making a comeback.

By now, he probably had a plan forming in his head.

Find the traitor. Beat the truth out of him. Use that information to take Malena down and recover his money…

It was a common reaction from people who had been completely played. If they realized there was no way to recover their losses, they’d fall apart completely.

In the end, it was just another form of denial.

Mario was shaking his head frantically, as if I wasn’t even there.

“Mario?”

At the sound of my voice, he froze.

His bloodshot eyes slowly turned to me.

Disbelief.

I could guess what was going through his head.

A fellow gambling hall owner appearing in front of him right after he’d been completely wiped out and locked up?

Sure, our businesses weren’t on the same level, but still—our work was fundamentally the same.

‘He probably thinks I’m the mastermind.’

Mario struggled to his feet, his legs trembling. Then, he started walking toward me.

But I wasn’t here to gloat and rub my victory in his face.

On the contrary—

I was here to put on my best poker face and interrogate him.

“Mario. Bonucci’s already confessed.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What am I talking about? You asking me?”

“What… What do you mean?”

Mario’s tone suddenly became formal, forced politeness mixing with suspicion.

I ignored it and kept going.

“Bonucci—though why call her Madam Bonucci, right? Maria Bonucci admitted that she and you were working together to scam a mark. But it backfired. You two planned this from the start, didn’t you?”

“That bitch is lying…!”

“Yeah, I thought so too, so I pressed her. And you know what? She admitted she started it.”

“Oh.”

A simple lie to preemptively counter any denial.

A basic trick.

This way, I didn’t need to explain myself in detail—I’d already created the impression that I knew everything. And that meant I held all the power in the conversation.

“But you were the one who escalated things. Isn’t that right?”

“What did I even do?”

“Nothing? So, what—you just handed your money to some woman you’d never met before? Opened a high-stakes table with a 10-gold max bet just to hand over your last remaining funds? Why would a professional gambler like you do that?”

Mario’s face turned red, on the verge of bursting.

His emotions were caught between anger and self-loathing.

But it was shifting more and more toward self-loathing.

‘After all, he wasn’t just scammed—he tried to be the scammer.’

Mario had planned to fleece someone, only to get played himself.

A veteran in the gambling world losing like this? Of course, he was going to spiral into self-hatred.

Even now, he was scratching the floor furiously, darting glances at the other prisoners, as if trying to gauge their reactions.

I let out a sigh, pretending to pity him.

“Mario.”

“Uh…”

“Honestly? I don’t care if you and Bonucci team up to scam people. You could carve Malena up and devour her whole for all I care. If it were my own people you tried that with, I would’ve had you both killed, but…”

“Then… why are you here?”

Instead of answering, I pulled out a debt contract.

It was a fake.

A document stating that Maria Bonucci owed me 310 gold.

“Bonucci took funds from me for the job against Malena.”

“What?”

“I was planning to put her in charge of my public relations. Now that I have a title, I need someone for that role. So, I gave her an advance for ceremonial expenses and wardrobe costs. But instead… she used it on this.”

I slowly folded the fake contract.

Of course, Bonucci didn’t owe me anything.

If anything, I’d planned to pay her a handsome cut—she had earned it.

But Mario had no way of knowing that.

Malena would be out of the city soon, and Bonucci was already in on the act.

Mario, hesitating, suddenly let out a snarl.

“And what does that have to do with me?”

“Because of you, Bonucci wasted my money—”

“Go yell at her, not me!”

Mario wasn’t even trying to listen anymore.

His clenched fists trembled.

But the guards flanking me did nothing.

Not because they lacked motivation—

But because Mario’s eyes were starting to well up.

“Fuck…! Fuck!!”

He smacked his bald head, wiped his tears, and ground his teeth in frustration.

A desperate, broken man, lashing out at the world.

“Mario.”

“Why the hell are you doing this to me?!”

“You’re not in a state to talk.”

I looked at him with mock sympathy, then turned to leave.

And I thought—

He wouldn’t be breathing much longer.

…

That evening.

Word spread that the guards had given Mario a light beating.

The justification? Insulting a noble. And that noble was me.

They said he was beaten crudely with clubs. Given his size, he could probably endure the blows, but his pride must have taken a far greater hit.

Because he had been treated as someone it was okay to beat.

Then, at dawn the next day—

This time, I sent Madam Bonucci to vent her resentment at Mario.

She confronted him with the logic that she had tried to stop him, so why hadn’t he listened?

Madam Bonucci followed my instructions to the letter.

And Mario’s reaction?

“He threatened me. Said that if I didn’t find a way to save him, he wouldn’t die alone. Then, out of nowhere, he started sobbing and begging me for help.”

He had started with threats but ended up pleading.

It was proof that Mario’s mind and body had already been pushed to their limits.

Now, it was my turn to step in.

I deliberately waited two more days before visiting his holding cell.

He had deteriorated significantly in that short time.

His arms hung limply at his sides as he slumped in a corner, a half-eaten piece of rye bread lying on the floor at his feet.

Even when he saw me, he didn’t move—he just blinked blankly.

Apparently, the guards had beaten him every time he caused a commotion.

I watched him with feigned sympathy for about a minute before speaking.

“Yesterday, I happened to meet a fairly high-ranking tax officer.”

No response. But I knew he was listening.

“He said something interesting. That Tantonia’s Dice was doomed anyway, so why not let Baron Hyden take over and turn it into a branch? That way, he could still collect taxes, and I could redistribute some of my overflowing customers. A win-win, don’t you think?”

I paused here, letting a wry smile cross my face.

As if I had only recently considered the idea by chance.

“At first, I thought it was just a joke… but it’s not a bad idea. So, I came to ask for fun—are you interested in handing it over?”

“For fun…?”

“As long as you own it, it’s not a gambling hall anymore. Who’s going to play in a place where they can’t even take their winnings?”

In other words, I was offering to buy it from him.

Of course, I had no intention of paying full price.

“But I’ll give you more than a pawnbroker would.”

My plan was to spread the payments out, just enough for him to scrape by after his sentence.

Mario opened his mouth as if to answer, then shut it again.

Then, suddenly, with a pathetic, hollow laugh, he dropped his head.

“How… how did I end up like this…? Hhhg…!”

And for a long time, he just kept lamenting.

It wasn’t until I stood up to leave—after saying, ‘If you’re not interested, then forget it.’—that he finally snapped back to reality.

“I… I’ll sell it.”

I hesitated briefly, then simply told him I’d send someone over before walking away.

At that moment, I had eliminated a competitor and secured a location for a new branch at a bargain price.

But it wasn’t time to celebrate yet.

“The Coboli Casino has taken the bait.”

Another operation was nearing its conclusion.

Unlike this one, it had been progressing quietly, using a different approach.

If I wanted to monopolize the gambling market, there was no time to rest.