It was Ray’s turn again. He looked at his cards.
He had managed to build his own half-completed stack, but nothing compared to Owen’s near-complete sequences.
However, Ray’s luck had given him a surprise due to the mistake of the Pencil moustache man at the crucial ti when Owen was just step closer to his second win.
He had just drawn the final card he needed to complete his own sequence of Ace-to-King.
It was an unexpected turn, a perfect draw at the perfect mont.
He calmly picked up a Jack of Diamonds from the discard pile that the man with black glasses had just thrown down in frustration.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, he laid down his final card: a King of Diamonds, completing his last stack. He looked up, eting the eyes of the NPC.
"I win," Ray stated, his voice quiet but firm, a stark contrast to the dramatic statents of the others.
A hush fell over the table. The man with black glasses stopped mid-course, his mouth slightly agape.
The man with the pencil moustache froze, his eyes wide.
Owen, who had been on the verge of his own victory, slowly set down the card he was about to play, his brow furrowed in genuine surprise.
They all stared at Ray’s completed stacks, neatly lined up, from Ace to King.
"What?!" the man with black glasses finally sputtered, leaning forward. "How?! I don’t... you were nowhere close!"
The man with the pencil moustache stamred, "I thought... you barely had any stacks built!"
Ray simply offered a small, knowing smile. He looked at his cards, then at the confused faces around him.
’My skill isn’t much better than theirs,’ he mused internally, ’but my luck is indeed better.’
During the card distribution for this second round, his initial hand had given him a couple of perfectly suited cards to start small sequences.
And then, the pencil moustache man’s mistake, inadvertently discarding a card Ray needed, had paved the way for his unexpected win.
The NPC, ever the impartial observer, cleared his throat. "Indeed. Mr. Ray has successfully completed his thirteen ascending stacks."
He turned to Ray, a rare hint of approval in his programd voice. "Congratulations, Mr. Ray. You are the winner of this round."
Imdiately, a crisp notification sound chid from Ray’s personal interface. A green glowing ssage appeared before his eyes, confirming his victory.
[CREDIT: 20000 coins]
The man with the pencil moustache slamd his fist lightly on the table, unable to contain his disbelief. "It was all luck!" he exclaid, pointing a shaking finger at Ray. "If not for my mistake, then you wouldn’t have won!"
The silence that followed Ray’s unexpected win stretched with disbelief from Jill (the man in glasses) and Warren (the man with the pencil moustache).
Owen, the calm victor of the first round, finally broke it. His gaze, steady and thoughtful, shifted from Ray’s neatly arranged stacks to the fuming faces of the other two.
"Your mistake or just his luck, it’s all part of the ga," Owen stated. He clearly supporting Ray’s win in this round.
"I know that!" Jill snapped, his face making an unwavering mask of frustration.
He clearly wasn’t happy with the explanation, or perhaps, with himself. "Start again!" he demanded, waving a hand at the NPC.
The NPC, unperturbed by the rising tempers, began to reshuffle the deck for the third round.
This ti, the silence was heavier, punctuated by the sharp thwacks of the cards being dealt. The bet was still ten thousand coins, and the pressure was palpable.
The third round, however, didn’t last long. It seed Owen’s consistency or perhaps, his good fortune, quickly led him to victory.
He laid down his final card, completing his stacks once more.
Jill and Warren couldn’t contain their disappointnt and anger this ti. Jill slamd his fist on the table.
"How am I the only one who ended up with wrong cards?!" he cursed, glaring at the impassive NPC as if the NPC were personally responsible for his plight.
Warren shared the sa furious expression; his face was filled with disbelief.
The NPC, with a casual, almost detached tone, addressed their unspoken accusations. "Everything is in front of you. Win and lose in the ga depends on skill and luck."
"So you are saying our skills are worse than him?" Warren retorted, pointing a trembling finger at Ray. His voice was laced with indignation.
The NPC shook his head slightly. "I have no comnt on anyone’s skill."
Ray chuckled softly, a sound that cut through the tense air like a sharp knife. "He isn’t just talking about skill, but luck too," he pointed out, his eyes twinkling with amusent.
The subtle jab was clearly aid at their earlier actions of looking down on him, their condescending remarks about his age and presud poverty.
He watched their faces redden, a small victory in itself.
"Shall we start Round Four?" the NPC asked, his gaze neutral, seemingly oblivious to the Warren and Jill’s emotions.
Owen nodded calmly. "Please."
He was clearly ready to continue. The tension, however, was far from gone.
The shuffling of the cards cut through the lingering tension on the table
Ray watched the NPC’s hands, but his mind drifted, his gaze briefly snagging on Owen. ’His face! I’ve seen it sowhere,’ Ray thought, a faint recognition stirring in his mind.
’And his na... Owen. I’ve heard it, but I can’t quite place it.’ He decided he’d try to recall it later; the ga demanded his full attention now.
’The House of Cards might let players play as long as they can pay, but I don’t have the leisure to spend all my ti here,’ he thought.
The last three gas had already given him enough experience, sharpening his instincts.
This ti, he decided, he would play aggressively. If Owen won again, Ray would have to find another table, another ga, and he was keen to avoid that.
The fourth round began.
Jill, still trying to coup from his previous losses, tried to focus or he will lose huge this ti.
Warren, the man with the pencil moustache, was equally agitated, his earlier confidence replaced by a desperate, almost reckless, approach.
Owen, as always, maintained his composed deanour, steadily building his stacks. Ray, however, was different this round.
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