The Gambler

Chapter 8: Understanding the application of Ki

Sitting at home, he reflected on the events of the past day and the newfound knowledge he had acquired. The idea of applying ki to gambling intrigued him. He was aware of the concept, but it was something he had never fully explored. His father had only taught him the basics of gambling, how to read the table, manage risks, and detect when another player was using *ki* to manipulate the game. But Elias’s approach to teaching *ki* was entirely different, more profound and layered, and though he didn’t fully grasp it yet, he could feel its potential simmering beneath the surface.

Elias’s patience and depth of understanding were slowly chipping away at his resistance. To his own surprise, he found himself becoming more polite, even respectful, toward Elias, something he had never imagined possible. The man he once viewed with suspicion was now becoming a mentor, a guide into a world he had only glimpsed from afar.

Rising from his chair, he stretched and made his way to the one room he adored above all others: his gambling room. It was more than just a space; it was a sanctuary, a place where strategy, intuition, and chance intertwined. The soft glow of the dim lights, the smooth feel of the cards, the faint clink of chips, it all called to him. Tonight, he felt a new energy coursing through him, a subtle connection to the ki Elias had begun to unravel for him. He wondered how it might change the way he played the way he saw the game.

As he stepped inside, the air seemed to shift, charged with possibility. He was ready to explore this uncharted territory to see where the fusion of ki and gambling might take him.

The double doors of dark mahogany, carved with intricate gold inlays of playing card suits, hearts, diamonds, clubs, and spades, swing open with a quiet hush, revealing a room designed for indulgence, secrecy, and high stakes play. The scent of aged whiskey, expensive cigars, and polished leather lingers in the air, mingling with the soft hum of classical jazz playing from concealed speakers in the coffered ceiling. A massive, shimmering chandelier of Venetian crystal dangles from the centre, casting refracted light that dances across the deep crimson walls, adorned with gold framed oil paintings of aristocrats engaged in games of chance.

A long, polished onyx bar stands to the left, stocked with the finest liquors, rare vintages of cognac, whiskey aged for decades, and crystal decanters filled with amber spirits. The bar is attended by a silent, impeccably dressed bartender in a tailored black suit, who polishes a glass with a practised hand. Behind the bar, a mirrored wall reflects the flickering glow of wall sconces shaped like flickering torches, their brass fittings designed to resemble ancient Roman coins.

In the centre of the room, a custom-made poker table dominates the space oval, carved from ebony wood with a surface of deep green felt that looks as smooth as silk. The edges are lined with polished brass cup holders, and embedded beneath the surface are discreet, modern technology, microcameras, sensors, and retractable screens for digital play. Stacks of high value poker chips, some adorned with real gold leaf, sit in neat piles, ready for the next game. The chairs around it are pure luxury—deep, tufted leather seats with brass rivets, armrests wide enough to cradle a glass of bourbon or a smouldering cigar

To the right, a roulette table gleams beneath a soft, golden glow. The wheel itself is a masterpiece, handcrafted with a blend of rosewood and ivory, the numbers painted with delicate, precise strokes. A sleek croupier, wearing an obsidian black vest over a pristine white shirt, stands beside it, his gloved hands resting near the wheel, waiting for the next wager. A stack of chips, some marked with private insignias belonging to the mansion’s most elite guests, sits on the table’s edge.

In the far corner, an antique baccarat table rests beneath a low-hanging brass lamp. The soft fabric of the table is in pristine condition, and the numbers and markings stitched with golden thread. A cigar humidor, carved from dark oak, stands beside it, open to reveal an array of Cuban cigars in perfect rows, their scent rich and intoxicating. A small side table holds a crystal ashtray, already dusted with the remains of expensive tobacco.

Beyond the tables, a seating area offers respite for those in between hands. Deep, burgundy velvet sofas are arranged around a low marble table, where cut crystal glasses and half drained bottles of liquor sit. A grand fireplace, its mantel adorned with small golden statues of card players, casts flickering shadows against the far wall. The firewood burns with a slow, controlled intensity, heating the room just enough to add comfort without discomfort.

A discreet panel on the wall, seemingly just another decorative element, is in fact a hidden door, leading to a private vault, a place where the wealthiest of players keep their winnings safe until the night is over. The door is fitted with a biometric scanner, allowing only the mansion’s owner and his most trusted guests access.

Everything in the room, from the gold embroidered coasters to the silent air conditioning that ensures the temperature never rises with the heat of the game, is designed for excess, power, and the thrill of the gamble.

After a little game with himself, he decided to head to Elias for a better understanding of luck manipulation.

The dimly lit backroom of the Golden Talon Casino was a far cry from the glittering main floor. Here, the air was thick with cigar smoke and the faint scent of whiskey, the kind of place where deals were made and fortunes lost. The green felt of the poker table was worn at the edges, and the chips stacked in front of the players gleamed dully under the single overhead light. Elias, the grizzled old gambler with a reputation as long as his list of enemies, sat slouched in his chair, a half empty glass of bourbon at his elbow. Across from him sat Bill, his young protégé, fidgeting nervously with his cards. At the head of the table was their opponent, a sharp eyed man in a tailored suit who introduced himself only as "Victor." His calm demeanor and the way he handled his chips suggested he was no stranger to high stakes games.

The dealer, a wiry man with a face like a hawk, cleared his throat and began explaining the rules of three-card poker. "Each player and the dealer receive three cards. The goal is to make the best poker hand possible. You can either fold and lose your ante, or play by matching the dealer's bet. The highest hand wins. Simple enough?"

Bill nodded, though his palms were sweating. He glanced at Elias, who gave him a reassuring wink. "Relax, kid," Elias muttered, his voice low and gravelly. "This ain't about the cards. Not yet, anyway."

Victor smirked, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. "Shall we begin?"

The dealer shuffled the deck with practiced ease and began dealing the cards. Bill picked up his hand: a seven of hearts, a nine of clubs, and a jack of diamonds. Not great, but not terrible. He glanced at Elias, who was studying his own cards with a practiced indifference.

"Alright, kid," Elias said, leaning back in his chair. "First lesson: Luck Manipulation. It's not about forcing the universe to give you what you want. It's about nudging it in the right direction. You feel that tingling in your gut? That's your ki. Focus on it."

Bill frowned, his brow furrowing. "But how do I focus on it? It just feels... weird."

Elias chuckled, taking a sip of his bourbon. "Weird is good. Weird means it's working. Close your eyes for a second. Breathe. Feel the energy around you. The cards, the table, the air—it's all connected. Now, imagine that energy flowing into your hand, into your cards."

Bill did as he was told, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He felt a strange warmth in his chest, like a tiny flame flickering to life. He focused on it, trying to guide it toward his hand. When he opened his eyes, he half expected his cards to have changed. They hadn't.

"Did it work?" Bill asked, his voice tinged with disappointment.

Elias shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. Luck Manipulation is subtle, kid. It's not about turning a seven into an ace. It's about making sure the next card you draw is the one you need. Or making sure Victor over there gets a little too confident."

Victor raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Is that so? And how exactly do you plan to manipulate my luck, old man?"

Elias grinned, his teeth yellowed from years of smoking. "Oh, I ain't messing with your luck, Victor. That's the kid's job. I'm just here to make sure he doesn't blow all his money in one go."

Bill flushed, feeling the weight of Victor's gaze. "So... what do I do now?"

"Now," Elias said, leaning forward, "you make your move. Fold or play. But before you do, take a second to feel the flow of the game. Is it going your way? Or is it slipping away? Your ki will tell you."

Bill hesitated, his eyes darting between his cards and the pot in the center of the table. He tried to focus on that warmth in his chest again, but it felt elusive, like trying to catch smoke with his hands. Finally, he pushed a stack of chips forward. "I'll play."

Victor nodded, matching the bet without hesitation. The dealer revealed his hand: a pair of eights. Bill's heart sank. His jack-high wasn't going to cut it.

"Damn," Bill muttered, slumping in his chair.

Elias clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't sweat it, kid. First rule of gambling: you win some, you lose some. But the real trick is knowing when to tip the scales in your favor. Let's try again."

The next round began, and Bill felt a little more confident this time. His hand was better—a queen, a ten, and a three. Not great, but better. He glanced at Elias, who gave him a nod.

"Alright, kid," Elias said, his voice low. "This time, don't just focus on your ki. Feel the table. Feel the deck. Imagine the card you need is already in your hand. You're not pulling it from the deck, you're guiding it to you."

Bill closed his eyes again, trying to block out the noise of the casino. He focused on that warmth in his chest, letting it spread through his body. He imagined the cards in his hand shifting, the three transforming into something better. When he opened his eyes, his hand was the same, but he felt... different. Like the air around him was charged with possibility.

"I'll play," Bill said, pushing his chips forward.

Victor matched the bet, his expression unreadable. The dealer revealed his hand: a king-high. Bill's queen wasn't enough, but as the dealer reached for the pot, Elias cleared his throat.

"Hold on," Elias said, his voice sharp. "Check the deck."

The dealer frowned but obliged, flipping over the next card in the deck. It was a queen—the exact card Bill needed to tie the dealer's hand.

Victor's eyes narrowed, and for the first time, a flicker of unease crossed his face. "Lucky draw," he muttered.

Elias grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Luck's got nothing to do with it, Victor. That's ki."

Bill stared at the queen, his heart racing. "Did I... did I do that?"

Elias winked. "You're getting the hang of it, kid. But don't get cocky. Luck Manipulation is just the first step. There's a lot more to learn."

Victor leaned forward, his calm demeanor cracking just a little. "Interesting. Let's see how far your... ki can take you."

The game continued, the tension at the table thickening with each hand. Bill's confidence grew, but so did Victor's determination. By the time the final round began, the pot was massive, and the stakes were higher than ever.

Bill's hand was decent a pair of fours but he knew it wouldn't be enough to beat Victor. He closed his eyes, focusing on his ki, trying to guide the energy toward the deck. He imagined the card he needed, willing it to come to him.

When he opened his eyes, he felt a strange certainty. "I'll play," he said, pushing his entire stack of chips forward.

Victor hesitated for the first time, his eyes narrowing as he studied Bill. Finally, he matched the bet. The dealer revealed his hand: a pair of sevens.

Bill held his breath as the dealer flipped over the next card. It was a four giving him three of a kind.

Victor's jaw tightened, but he nodded, conceding the pot. "Well played," he said, though his tone suggested he wasn't entirely convinced it was skill.

Elias clapped Bill on the back, his grin wide. "Not bad, kid. Not bad at all. But remember, this is just the beginning. Luck Manipulation is powerful, but it's only the first stage. There's a whole world of ki out there waiting for you to master it."

Bill nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. For the first time, he felt like he was starting to understand the true potential of his abilities. And as he gathered his chips, he couldn't help but smile. The game was far from over, but he was ready to play.