Damon remained leaning against the bar for a few moments after noticing the almost imperceptible change in the atmosphere, maintaining a relaxed posture while slowly swirling his glass between his fingers, as if nothing special was happening, when in fact every detail around him was already beginning to rearrange itself around him. The typical casino hubbub still existed, but there were small flaws in the flow—conversations that paused for a second longer than usual, glances that lingered half an instant beyond the casual, movements that seemed slightly calculated. It was subtle. But for someone like him… glaring.

He calmly set his glass aside, without haste, as if he were simply bored with that more common area, and then resumed walking through the room with calm steps, but carrying an intention that was beginning to become bolder. Up to that point, he had gambled with control, with moderation, staying within a limit that wouldn’t arouse direct suspicion. But now… now he wanted exactly the opposite.

“Okay…” he murmured softly, running a hand through his hair as his eyes scanned the room until he found another table. “If it’s attention I need… then let’s do it right.”

He approached a busier card table, where the stakes were naturally higher, attracting a different crowd—fewer amateurs, more experienced players, more money circulating, more ego involved. Without hesitation, he pulled up a chair and sat down, pushing a significantly larger amount of chips onto the table right away, enough to make two of the players around him raise their eyebrows slightly.

It wasn’t an absurd bet.

But it wasn’t modest either.

It was… a leap.

And the leap was noticed.

The cards were dealt.

Damon picked his.

And this time—

He didn’t hold back.

Not in the same way.

He began to play more aggressively, more directly, but still with that absurd precision that made it seem like everything was just an improbable sequence of hits. He confidently raised the stakes, pressured the other players, forced uncomfortable decisions, created situations where any choice they made seemed wrong.

And, round after round—

He won.

Not always cleanly.

Sometimes he bluffed masterfully.

Other times he simply… had the right cards.

But the result was the same.

The chips piled up.

Faster now.

Much faster.

“This… this is getting interesting…” he murmured, pulling another stack of chips toward himself with a slight smile.

The players around him began to change.

One left.

Another joined.

But the pattern remained.

Damon continued.

And continued to win.

The table was no longer just a game.

It was a spectacle.

People began to approach, first discreetly, then without even trying to hide their interest. The sound of the casino, once constant, began to diminish in that specific area, as if the collective attention itself was being drawn to that point.

And Damon… noticed.

Of course he noticed.

But he didn’t stop.

On the contrary—

He increased it.

More chips.

More risk.

More pressure.

“If we’re going to do it…” he thought, pushing an even larger amount to the center of the table. “Then let’s go all the way.”

The cards came.

The silence around him grew.

All eyes were on him now.

And when he revealed his hand—

Victory.

Again.

A murmur ran through the group.

Low.

Laden with disbelief.

But it still wasn’t enough.

Not for him.

Damon began to bet not only what he won… but everything.

Everything he accumulated went back to the table.

Without hesitation.

Without fear.

Like someone who wasn’t there for the money.

But for purpose.

Each win fueled the next bet.

Each gain immediately turned into risk.

And that… broke the expected pattern.

Because ordinary players protect their winnings.

Smart players control their losses.

But Damon?

He ignored both.

And that… was frightening.

“This guy… is going to bankrupt the casino…” someone murmured in the background.

Another replied:

“Or he’ll lose everything in one round.”

But round after round—

None of that happened.

He didn’t lose.

Not really.

Even when he gave up small amounts, it was clearly calculated, as if he were adjusting the perception of others.

But when it mattered—

He won.

The volume of chips in front of him was already absurd.

Far beyond what any average player should have accumulated in such a short time.

And now—

It wasn’t just curiosity anymore.

It was tension.

The employees began to move differently.

More attentive.

Closer.

The glances between them were discreet, but constant.

Silent communication.

Evaluation.

Calculation.

“Now that’s more like it…” Damon thought, leaning slightly back in his chair as he twirled a card between his fingers, his eyes scanning the room without really focusing on anyone. “Now I’ve become a problem.”

He entered another round.

This time—

The initial bet was already high.

Very high.

The kind of bet that made even the most experienced players hesitate.

But Damon didn’t hesitate.

He pushed the chips in.

And waited.

The others followed.

Reluctantly.

But they followed.

The cards came.

The silence was now almost absolute in that area.

Even the distant sounds of the casino seemed muffled.

And when the round ended—

Another win.

This time—

Big.

Very big.

One of the players stood up immediately, clearly unable to continue.

Another just shook his head, laughing humorlessly.

“That’s not luck…” he murmured.

Damon just smiled slightly.

“Of course not,” he thought.

He collected the chips slowly, unhurriedly, almost savoring the moment, when finally—

A presence approached.

Not abrupt.

Not aggressive.

But firm.

One of the casino security guards.

Well-dressed.

Impeccable posture.

But the eyes… too attentive.

“Sir,” he said, with a slight nod. “Could you grant me a moment?”

Damon looked up slowly, as if slightly surprised, but not bothered.

“It depends,” he replied with a slight smile. “Will I lose my table?”

The security guard allowed a small, professional smile.

“On the contrary.”

He made a discreet gesture with his hand.

“We would like to offer you an experience more… suited to your level.”

Damon raised an eyebrow slightly.

“Really?”

“Yes,” the man continued. “We have a more exclusive wing. Higher stakes. Players… more suited to your profile.”

Damon was silent for a second.

Just observing.

Assessing.

And then—

He smiled.

“This sounds interesting.”

The security guard then pulled a small card from inside his jacket pocket.

Elegant.

Dark.

With subtle metallic details.

A discreet symbol engraved on the surface.

He extended the card.

“This will give you access.”

Damon took the card between his fingers, turning it slightly as he examined the object, as if more interested in the detail than the meaning.

But inside—

He already knew.

“Invitation accepted…” he thought.

He calmly stood up from the table, leaving behind the impressive accumulation of chips that would now be converted into something even greater, while slightly adjusting his posture, as if he were simply changing environments.

But that wasn’t it.

He had succeeded.

He had attracted attention.

In the right way.

In the right place.

From the right people.

And now—

He was being invited…

To the real game.

Damon cast one last glance at the main hall, where dozens of eyes still watched him, some with admiration, others with suspicion, others with pure envy.

And then—

He smiled.

“Now we’re talking…” he murmured to himself as he followed the security guard. “Let’s see what you’re really hiding, Cherry.”

Damon followed the security guard slowly, but with absolute attention to every detail around him, his footsteps echoing softly on the polished floor as he moved away from the main area of ​​the casino, where the noise, the lights, and the intense movement began to fade into the distance. As they advanced, the atmosphere changed subtly, almost imperceptibly to an ordinary person, but glaringly to someone as trained as he was. The colors became more subdued, the lighting more controlled, and even the air seemed… different. Less charged with chaotic excitement. Denser. More calculated.

The security guard said nothing.

And neither did Damon.

But that didn’t mean silence.

There was communication there—nonverbal, but clear.

The kind of exchange where both knew exactly what was happening, even without needing to say it.

“So that’s how it is…” Damon thought, observing the corridor they were passing through, discreetly noticing the details that revealed the true purpose of that area. “You filter out the chaos outside… and bring only what matters inside.”

They passed through a reinforced double door, which the security guard opened with the card he carried, revealing a new space that contrasted directly with the rest of the casino. There were no more crowds. No shouting, no exaggerated celebrations. Here, everything was more contained… more dangerous.

The premium wing.

The true heart of the place.

Damon entered with the same nonchalant demeanor as before, but his eyes were more attentive than ever, absorbing every detail as he walked a few steps ahead of the security guard, as if adjusting to the new environment.

The tables were fewer in number, but significantly larger, with luxurious finishes and chips of absurd value circulating with an almost uncanny ease. The players… were different. There were no amateurs there. Each person present carried a distinct presence—nobles, wealthy merchants, influential figures… and some who definitely didn’t belong to any of those categories.

“Interesting…” Damon murmured softly, as if merely appreciating the scenery, though his mind was analyzing every face, every movement, every potential threat.

The masks there were different too.

More elaborate.

More symbolic.

Less decorative… more representative.

And that said a lot.

The security guard stopped beside him.

“Make yourself comfortable, sir,” he said, with the same professional tone as before. “If you need anything, we’ll be nearby.”

Damon inclined his head slightly in response, but said nothing.

He didn’t need to.

The security guard walked away.

But he didn’t leave.

Damon knew that without needing to look.

“Of course not…” he thought, with a slight inward smile. “Now you’ll be watching me closely.”

He began to walk through the space with slow steps, like someone simply choosing where to play, but in reality, he was doing something far more important.

Searching. Because Cherry…

Would be there.

Or, at the very least—

Someone connected to her.

He passed a table where two men were playing in absolute silence, their gazes fixed on each other as if they were waging a battle far beyond the cards. At another, an elegantly dressed woman swirled a glass of wine while betting amounts that would make any ordinary person hesitate.

And then—

He realized.

Change.

Again.

More subtle.

More specific.

A slight opening in the flow of the environment.

A path.

Almost invisible.

But present.

“Ah…” Damon slowed his pace slightly, without looking directly, but adjusting his trajectory as if it were completely natural. “So this is where things get… really interesting.”

At the back of the premium wing, partially isolated by an elegant architectural partition—columns, heavy curtains, and even more controlled lighting—there was an even more restricted area. There were no signs. There was no explicit indication.

But it didn’t need to be.

The mere presence there said it all.

Discreetly positioned guards.

Minimal movement.

Controlled access.

And, most importantly—

People entering…

But almost no one leaving.

Damon paused for a second, pretending to observe a nearby table, while his eyes analyzed that area more carefully.

“So you’re in there…” he thought, narrowing his eyes slightly. “Of course you are.”

But unlike the previous entrance—

This time, a simple password wouldn’t suffice.

Nor a simple bluff.

Here…

It was another level.

He let out a small sigh, running a hand over his chin as he seemed to ponder his next move.

“Well…” he murmured to himself. “Since I’ve come this far…”

His eyes then slid back to the premium lounge.

To the tables.

For the players.

For the money.

And then—

A smile appeared.

Wider.

More dangerous.

“Let’s raise the bar a little more.”

He walked to one of the most central tables in the premium section, where the stakes were already visibly absurd, and without hesitation, pulled up a chair and sat down, placing his VIP card on the table with a light touch, signaling that he wasn’t there by chance.

The stares came.

Immediately.

More attentive.

More assessing.

But Damon… didn’t care.

On the contrary—

That’s exactly what he wanted.

“If I can’t go straight in…” he thought, as he picked up the chips and calmly arranged them. “Then I’ll make them pull me in.”

The cards began to be dealt.

The game began.

And Damon—

Got back into the game.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep