Chapter 18
“I won’t.”
Checking the man’s fingertips, Yullines closed the door and responded. At the same time, the air in the room thickened, weighing heavily on the atmosphere.
As if to lighten the mood, the red-haired man nudged the empty chair beside him with his foot.
“Sit. I’m Mason. That one chewing on the cigar is Illion, and the curly-haired one is Braden. You have something to ask us?”
“Shouldn’t we place bets before I get answers?”
Illion, who had the cigar in his mouth, asked as Sia grabbed the back of the chair and pulled it closer.
He tossed his cards onto the table with a soft thud, and the others quickly emptied their hands as if waiting for this.
Braden, brushing his curly bangs aside with his hand, gave a crooked smile and met her gaze.
“Tell me, what exactly do you plan to bet?”
Sia paused briefly, then placed her hand flat on the table.
For a moment, silence fell. Everyone’s eyes were on her empty hand, already guessing what she intended to wager.
After surveying them, Sia calmly asked,
“I heard anything goes. Then how about my hand?”
The silence lingered.
The three knights froze in their seats, and Yullines, leaning against the wall, shifted slightly with a serious expression.
Was it just her imagination, or did a trace of worry—strange for someone who once tried to kill her—appear on his face?
“Are you insane?”
Yullines whispered quietly, head bowed.
The knights, sitting apart, seemed not to hear him.
Sia, glancing at him briefly, faced forward and declared loudly,
“I am not insane.”
A strange excitement coursed through her. The thrill of taking a risk, mixed with the early taste of victory, spread from her stomach upward.
She couldn’t let this excitement show.
Lowering her voice, she continued,
“As you know, I need to get information with nothing on me… I have no money.”
Her eyes narrowed at the end of her explanation.
“So, I’ll bet my wrist.”
The knights’ reactions varied at her calm declaration.
“Even so, the lady’s body—”
Mason hesitated, scanning her from head to toe. He considered suggesting something else, a thought flitting across his mind.
It wasn’t pity. Clearly, he thought a wrist bet wasn’t valuable.
“Games are games.”
Illion exhaled a cloud of smoke and shuffled the cards. To him, the only important thing was the game itself.
“Are you sure you have nothing else? We could just go somewhere else to find out.”
Braden asked playfully, but it was clear he found playing with Sia bothersome. Unlike Mason, who seemed to enjoy the game itself, Braden only wanted it if it was worth his time.
“It’s fine.”
Sia observed their reactions and answered nonchalantly. She then leaned back in her chair comfortably.
Seeing her so composed, the knights exchanged glances.
Does she have some hidden trick if she’s that confident?
She’s still a kid. There’s nothing she could have.
Let’s start the game. I’m getting bored.
“I don’t know what kind of game I’m playing. What do I need to win to get an answer?”
Sia inserted herself into the subtle tension among the three.
The atmosphere wavered briefly, then Illion replied curtly,
“It’s late; let’s just use cards.”
Mason glanced at him, flicked the stacked cards with a flourish, and seemed eager to play. But, considering manners, he asked Braden for agreement.
“What do you think?”
“Then fine, cards. I’m lazy anyway.”
With Braden’s curt reply, the game was decided.
“Do you know how to play card games?”
Mason tapped the cards in his hand.
“A little.”
Sia’s eyes followed the cards. From the moment she entered the room, she noticed the illustrations resembled standard playing cards.
Or maybe they are the same…?
“These cards…”
Mason spoke in an intrigued tone, apparently hearing her murmur.
“The boy you’re looking for taught you these. He probably didn’t expect to get caught with them himself.”
“…Stupid kid.”
Illion nodded in agreement.
Around then, the conversation became a blur. Sia tried to focus, but her mind went blank at times.
Her master wouldn’t have lost and willingly let them take him. If he was going to lose, he would have used a trick or magic to win the pot—or fled.
He surrendered easily?
Sia’s eyes swept over the three.
Their strength was ordinary. None could use trickery or magic, and if her master had taught them cards, they likely weren’t experienced.
Victory was possible. If not, at least the money could have been stolen.
Had her master deliberately let them capture him?
Why?
“We’ll play the first round. Watch closely and learn. The real game starts afterward.”
Mason tossed cards onto the table, one at a time, and Sia’s focus sharpened.
The cards were dealt silently, betting followed, then revealed in a quiet, repetitive rhythm.
The bets were silver coins, apparently the local currency. When someone called “call,” coins clinked together across the table.
Seven-card poker, perhaps.
Sia counted the cards in their hands, recalling the rules she had learned long ago.
“Triple.”
Mason revealed his hand. Three queens: hearts, clubs, and spades. Not a high probability, but decent.
This red-haired knight is skilled.
“One pair.”
Illion crumpled his cigar, tossing down his cards in frustration. Spades and diamonds, both aces. Strong hand but unlucky.
“No pair.”
Braden sighed loudly, apparently irritated at getting the lowest hand. His eyes drifted to Sia, as if hungry for someone to vent on.
“If you do this, you lose, miss. And you don’t just beat one of us—you have to beat all three.”
Can she manage that?
Even as they smiled, Sia sensed the underlying cruel threat.
Naturally. These were people who enjoyed gambling under the guise of games—or worse.
“Let’s start. How many wins do I need to know my… I mean, my brother’s whereabouts?”
Mason considered briefly, then proposed while glancing at his companions,
“Three rounds? Too short?”
“….”
“Five rounds. Win three out of five.”
Illion seemed indifferent. Braden reshuffled the cards as he agreed.
“Fine.”
Sia responded cheerfully, and Braden’s smile under his curly hair looked sharp, almost venomous.
Without another word, he continued coldly,
“If I win, I’ll cut off your wrist right away.”
Like a fish’s head in the market.
Mason, excited by Braden’s words, added enthusiastically,
“Then I’ll start with your fingers, then the wrist?”
“….”
Hearing such cruel words spoken so plainly was unsettling.
Mason glanced at Illion as if to say, “You’ve said your part—now you.”
“Do whatever—use an ashtray or cut, I don’t care.”
Always gruff, even outside the game.
His eagerness to start annoyed the others slightly.
Sia’s eyes flicked to Yullines.
He met her gaze and lifted his chin briefly, a look of disapproval.
Sia reassured him with a wink and adjusted her posture, sitting upright.
“Then let’s add one more condition.”
“What?”
“What did you say…?”
The knights were visibly unsettled by her sudden proposal.
Yullines, still watching her, looked anxious. What if her competitiveness escalated here?
Sia acted nonchalantly.
“If I win, I’ll take the last-place finisher’s leg.”
To ensure they heard, she repeated herself.
“If I win, tell me where my brother went…”
She met each player’s gaze in turn, drawing a deep breath.
Her chest tightened.
She disliked tension and excitement in gambling, avoiding casinos entirely—yet here she was.
“I’ll take the leg of whoever finishes last.”
Mason’s eyes lit up.
“What we get if we win is your useless wrist.”
“My wrist is more useful than you think.”
Sia lightly countered, spreading her hand with a grin.
“Hah, really.”
Braden, silently observing, swallowed a scoff. Handling a kid like this was exhausting, but he said nothing in opposition.
With implicit consent, Mason stepped forward.
“Then let’s begin.”
