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The Gambling System Chapter 27: Six million euros
They both agreed on a game of Baccarat, A game of prestige, chance, and gut instincts. One of the oldest and most respected gambling games in the world, played in the grandest casinos by the wealthiest elites. Yet, beneath all its grandeur, the rules were simple. Two hands were played—the Player and the Banker. The goal was straightforward: get as close to nine as possible. Numbered cards 2 through 9 carried their face value, while 10s, Jacks, Queens, and Kings were worth zero. Aces were one. If a hand’s total exceeded nine, only the last digit counted. For example, a hand with a 7 and an 8—which would normally be 15—was actually worth 5. There were no complicated strategies, no deep calculations like in blackjack or poker. It was a game of pure probability, a gamble in its truest form. And Peter? Peter had never played it before. “How much does the pizza boy even have to gamble?” Viktor sneered, lounging in his chair like a king on his throne. Peter didn’t flinch.
The Gambling System Chapter 28: The restroom
They went to den’s restroom The restroom was immaculate, almost eerily so, considering the chaos of the gambling floor outside. The walls were lined with black marble, polished to a mirror sheen, reflecting the dim, golden glow of the overhead lights. The air smelled of expensive cologne and fresh linen, a stark contrast to the thick, smoky musk of the casino. Everything was pristine—too perfect, too lifeless, like a luxury hotel bathroom that had never been touched.It was a huge contrast from the gambling ground.Naomi dragged Peter inside, her grip iron-tight, and immediately turned to bolt the door behind them. The click of the lock echoed sharply, sealing them away from the world outside.“You have five seconds,” she said, her voice cold, distant.Peter blinked, still catching his breath from the sudden retreat. “What?” he asked, confused.“That’s all you’re getting,” she said flatly. “Four seconds left.”Panic set in. Five seconds? That wasn’t what they agreed on. He had
The Gambling System Chapter 29: Was she right?
Peter remained at the restroom of the gambling den till the late hours of the day. He sat on the floor, frozen in despair. And when he finally took his leave, he left his bike at the gambling den and walked home. His legs felt like lead, each step heavier than the last. He wasn’t just exhausted—he was hollow.The night air was thick with humidity, clinging to his skin like a damp sheet. Streetlights flickered overhead, casting long, distorted shadows on the cracked pavement. The city still buzzed around him—cars honking, people laughing, the faint hum of distant music—but it all felt muted, like he was trapped in a vacuum, completely detached from the world around him.He had lost.Not just at the gambling table, but in every possible way.Naomi had humiliated him, had ripped him apart from the inside out, and the worst part?She wasn’t wrong.Peter reached the trailer park, stepping over puddles of dirty rainwater as he approached the small, rusted metal box he called home. It
The Gambling System Chapter 30: His Decision
Peter’s mother sat on the hospital bed, her frail hands resting on the crisp white sheets, her eyes lost in the endless expanse of the morning sky. The soft golden light of dawn seeped through the glass window, bathing the room in warmth. A smile graced her lips, small and serene. It was almost 8 a.m.—Peter would be arriving soon.But at this moment, her thoughts weren’t on her son.Her mind wandered back to him.Peter’s father.She imagined what he would say if he could see their son now. How proud he would be. How much he would see himself in Peter. Would he smile? Would his eyes gleam with that same fire they used to have, back when he was young and reckless, believing the world was something he could conquer?A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.She turned just as a nurse stepped in, holding an envelope in her hand.“This came in for you, Mrs. Donovan.”Her brow furrowed. A letter?Who still sent letters in this day and age?She took it, confusion flick
The Gambling System Chapter 31: Clearance
Peter stepped through the gates of Monte Carlo Gambling University, and for the first time, he truly felt the weight of where he was. The campus was magnificent, unlike anything he had ever seen before. Gleaming marble pathways stretched out before him, leading towards grandiose structures of glass and steel that seemed to touch the sky. The university grounds were immaculate, each blade of grass perfectly trimmed, the fountains cascading with water so clear it looked like liquid crystal. Luxury cars—the kind Peter had only ever seen in magazines—lined the entrance, their polished exteriors gleaming under the sunlight. The students walking past were clad in designer suits, exuding confidence and elegance, as if they belonged to a world completely separate from his own.Peter, in stark contrast, stood there in his wrinkled navy-blue blazer, his shirt slightly untucked, and scuffed black shoes that had seen better days. His entire appearance screamed out of place, and he felt it more
The Gambling System Chapter 32:Sharing the bed
Peter spun around so fast he nearly tripped over himself, slapping a hand over his face in a desperate attempt to erase what he had just seen. But it was too late. Noir’s nude figure was forever burned into his memory. Her skin glistened with water droplets, each one tracing along the soft, smooth curves of her body before dripping onto the pristine marble shower floor. The steam from the shower clung to her, swirling like a misty veil, enhancing the golden glow of her sun-kissed skin. Her raven-black hair, damp and sticking to her neck and shoulders, added to her allure. The way she stood, completely unbothered, exuding nothing but confidence, sent Peter’s brain into a meltdown. Goddamn it. What the hell is wrong with her?! “WHAT THE HELL?!” Peter shouted, his face burning hotter than the sun. “C-Cover up or something!” Noir tilted her head, amused, reached for a nearby towel with calm, deliberate movements, the fabric barely covering her as she wrapped it around hers
The Gambling System Chapter 33: Texas Hold’em
Peter felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. The same mysterious, sharp-eyed boy from the lavatory. The one who had stared into Peter’s soul and whispered: “You have his eyes.” “The man I must gamble, beat, and kill.” Peter’s jaw clenched. The White Knight stood there, his presence as suffocating as before. His icy silver hair framed his sharp, angular face. His piercing gray eyes held no emotion—just an intense, unwavering stare, as if he had already planned every move, every outcome, every victory before Peter had even walked into the room. He was dressed immaculately, donning a tailored white suit with silver embroidery, making him look less like a gambler and more like royalty preparing for war. And yet, despite his composed exterior, there was something... unsettling about him. Something that made every hair on Peter’s body stand on end. The White Knight’s face expressionless “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show up.” Peter’s f
The Gambling System Chapter 34: Illusion of Chance
Peter’s fingers trembled slightly as he shoved his last 100,000-euro chip forward. His heart pounded against his ribs, his pulse erratic with frustration, humiliation, and an unbearable, boiling anger directed at one thing.Himself.How could he have been so stupid?He had played like a reckless amateur in the first round. No system. No strategy. Just gut instinct. And he got crushed.That was his fault.His jaw clenched, his body rigid with frustration. His opponent—the ever-stoic, ever-unshaken Dante Whittemore-Knight—remained composed as he matched the bet with 110,000 euros, once again ensuring he controlled the game.It was infuriating.That calmness. That absolute confidence.Dante wasn’t just playing cards. He was dominating the table. And the worst part? Peter had let him.The first round had been a humiliation, but he refused to walk away like a fool. He would adapt. He would win.……..[BET DETECTED: QUEST ACTIVATED – POKER DUEL]Objective: Win the game.Reward:
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Chapter 97: A Battle Beyond Money
The crowd exploded again.If Peter’s bet had been a bomb, Viktor’s was a nuclear strike.People screamed.Chairs clattered against the floor.Someone in the back actually fainted."TWO HUNDRED BILLION?!""IS THIS EVEN LEGAL?!""WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?!""THIS IS MADNESS!"It wasn’t just a gamble anymore.It was warfare on a scale none of them had ever witnessed.---And in the center of it all —amid the chaos and disbelief —Peter and Viktor locked eyes.No words.No smiles.Just two forces of nature colliding —and only one of them would walk away.The second Viktor’s voice cut through the air —"Two hundred billion." —the reaction was cataclysmic.The arena didn't just erupt — it detonated.It was as if the very walls trembled from the shockwave of noise.A thousand voices screamed at once, the sound bouncing off the ceilings and hammering into the floor.Some people laughed hysterically, others yelled in disbelief, and still more sat frozen, mouths gaping like broken machines."TWO
Chapter 96: The Battle Escalates
For a single breathless moment, the entire arena froze.Then, dramatically — like an emperor descending into the gladiator pit — Viktor stood from his luxurious VIP seat and began making his way toward the stage.His every step echoed in the vast silence.A slow, deliberate, predatory gait — like a wolf circling wounded prey.The crowd instinctively parted for him, the sea making way for the storm.The overhead lights caught his sharp suit — dark as night — and made it gleam like polished obsidian.Every movement he made was smooth, precise, dripping with arrogance.He didn’t strut.He didn’t posture.He simply existed with an undeniable dominance.As he ascended the steps onto the stage, his smirk widened — the kind of grin you’d see on a man who already knew the ending of the story... and knew it ended in your ruin.---Peter’s fists clenched by his side.His mind scrambled to process what the hell was happening."What the hell is going on?!" he blurted, voice cracking with confusio
Chapter 95: Choosing Fire Over Safety
Risk made Naomi feel real. It reminded her she still existed — that she could still touch the world, and it could touch her back. But even with all the dares, the bets, the adrenaline highs, the near-death moments she laughed through… Something inside her stayed hollow. A part of her stayed cold. Like no matter how hard she ran, some piece of her was still trapped in that silent house, under a mother’s cold hand, waiting for a father who was never coming back. --- Until she met him. Until she met Peter. --- It was a cold, gray morning. The kind that makes the whole city feel dead. The sky was heavy with low, steel-colored clouds. The streets were slick with rain from the night before, the air sharp and damp. Naomi had her headphones in, lost in the beat of some reckless song — one that made her feel like she was the only real thing in the world. She didn’t see the bus. She didn’t hear the shouts. Didn’t realize the screaming wasn’t part of her music. Until — Hands.
Chapter 94: Naomi
The earliest memory Naomi could ever call happy wasn’t a birthday party or a family trip. It was standing on the edge of a rooftop. She was five years old. The air was crisp and wild against her cheeks, whipping her hair into her eyes. Her tiny sneakers teetered dangerously close to the ledge. Below her, the city stretched out in a chaotic mess of lights, honking horns, and life. She didn’t feel afraid. She felt free. For the first time in her short, confusing life — she felt truly, completely alive. --- Naomi was born in a city where gambling wasn’t just a pastime — it was a heartbeat. Lottery houses on every corner. Illegal poker games tucked into alleyways. Sports betting rings hidden behind barbershops. Risk and reward were the background noise of her childhood. Her father, Daniel, was a professional poker player. The kind of man who lived with cards always hidden up his sleeve and a crooked smile on his face. He played by instinct. By gut. He’d
CHAPTER 93– THE SECOND ROUND: PETER'S GAMBIT
Peter remained composed, outwardly calm, but inside his mind was a roaring storm of calculations and possibilities.He ran through the most plausible reasons Naomi might have for discarding two Tens—a strong starting hand in almost any version of poker.First possibility:She could simply be aiming for a deliberately weak hand. Something like:> 10-Heart, 10-Diamond, 7-Clover, 4-Diamond, 3-Spade.If she were betting on weaker hands winning, that would make sense. But not entirely.Showing your weakness openly is suicidal, Peter thought. Especially when victory depends on betting more aggressively than your opponent.Second possibility:A more dangerous one.> A-Clover, 2-Diamond, 2-Heart, 10-Heart, 10-Diamond.Maybe she originally had two pairs—Tens and Twos—and was throwing away the Tens to trick him. Or worse:> 7-Heart, 7-Spade, 7-Diamond, 10-Heart, 10-Diamond.Maybe she had a full house and was bluffing to bait him into choosing "Stronger."In that case, if Peter misread the situa
CHAPTER 92 – THE SECOND ROUND BEGINS
The dealer methodically shuffled the cards, the clean snap of the deck cutting through the thick, charged air of the auditorium. With careful precision, she dealt five cards to each player, her movements smooth, mechanical, and utterly without emotion.Another round.Another battle.Peter kept his gaze trained on Naomi, not missing even the slightest twitch of her face, the faintest flicker of her fingertips.“Playing with unfamiliar rules is quite the challenge,” Naomi said lightly, her tone almost playful.Peter narrowed his eyes.Don’t let her fool you, he thought grimly. She’s not nervous. She’s enjoying this.And now… now Peter understood her.Unlike standard poker, Choice Poker wasn't about bluffing your way to a fold.In this game, the real power came from winning the right to choose: stronger or weaker.Because of that, a rational player should only raise by the minimum—just enough to steal the choice without risking too many chips.Anything more was reckless. Stupid, even.Bi
CHAPTER 91 — The First Hand of Choice Poker
The silence in the theatre-like hall was pierced by the sound of ceramic clinking against polished wood.The dealer—a poised woman with a professional grace and a face carved from calm—raised a single custom poker chip into the air. The chip gleamed under the lights, etched with the gold-trimmed insignia of Monte Carlo Gambling University. Its edges shimmered in hues of midnight blue and crimson velvet.“One chip will be worth ten million euros,” she declared, her voice smooth and clear, amplified just enough to be heard throughout the auditorium. “Now then…, how many would you like to start with?”Naomi didn’t hesitate. She smiled sweetly, folding her hands atop the table like a noble lady in court.“I currently have 310 million euros,” she said in a polite, almost too-innocent voice. “So, I’ll take 31 chips, please.”The dealer nodded, motioning to her assistants. A sleek black tray was brought forward, stacked neatly with thirty-one chips, each one glinting like treasure.Then the
Chapter 90 – The Odds
“The odds are against Peter? How so?” Grant asked, narrowing his eyes at Logan, trying to hide the worry creeping up his spine.Logan leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms, his voice calm but serious. “In ordinary poker, the player with more money has the upper hand. That's just a fact. Whoever controls the chips controls the pace of the game. If you have the larger stack, you can keep raising—over and over—until your opponent either folds or bleeds out.”Grant frowned. “Right, but that’s just normal poker. Isn’t this game a little different? You don’t lose automatically just because you have less money, right? You still get to play. You just don’t get to choose between stronger or weaker. That’s it.”“That’s it?” Logan repeated, chuckling darkly. “That one thing—that’s the whole game, Grant.”Grant blinked.Logan leaned forward now, speaking low but sharp, like he was trying to cut through the tension with every word. “The right to choose between stronger or weaker? That’s every
Chapter 89: The Rules of the Game
The stage lights dimmed as Peter and Naomi were ushered to their seats at the center of the circular platform. Two chairs faced each other beneath a low-hanging spotlight. Between them was a sleek, velvet-covered poker table. A hush fell over the crowd as the audience filled in around them, seated in rising tiers of deep crimson seats. It reminded Peter of a gladiator pit—only tonight, the weapons weren’t swords or spears. They were cards. And cash. Peter glanced out at the crowd. It was bigger than he expected—rows and rows of students, professors, spectators, and even masked officials from the gambling committee. Most of the faces were unfamiliar, but all wore the same expression: eager anticipation. Why the hell are they all here? Before Peter could gather his thoughts, a chime echoed across the hall. 9:00 p.m. Right on cue, the dealer walked onto the stage. She was a woman in her late thirties, with shoulder-length silver hair tied neatly in a braid that swung gently wi
