Bill was never the type to linger at casinos for long. He’d play a game or two, then leave. The low-level gamblers were nothing more than training gadgets to him, stepping stones to sharpen his skills for the real stakes. As he walked the streets of Bethel, the townsfolk eyed him with unease. He wasn’t polite, nor kind. He took what he wanted without asking, especially when it was his by right. “Give me a cup of coffee,” he said abruptly, stopping at a small café. His voice was sharp, commanding, and devoid of warmth. He sat down in a chair, his presence immediately drawing the attention of the other customers. Bill was a prestigious figure in Bethel, known for his gambling prowess. He was among the top 10 gamblers in the town, a title that carried both respect and fear. The waitress, a young woman named Rachel, approached him cautiously. “Here’s the coffee you ordered, sir,” she said, placing the cup on the table with a slight tremble in her hands. Her voice was soft, almost timi

Bill had become a legend in the town, his name whispered with a mix of awe and resentment. His rise from a novice to a master gambler in under a year was nothing short of meteoric. But with his success came arrogance, a belief that he was untouchable, that no one in this town could rival him. He craved a challenge, someone who could humble him, and little did he know that someone was just around the corner. As usual, Bill walked into the casino, the air thick with the scent of cigarettes and the faint hum of slot machines. The strippers danced with practised precision, their movements a blur of glitter and skin. The tables were packed with gamblers of all kinds—rookies with wide eyes, seasoned players with poker faces, and the occasional high roller who thought they could take on the house. But as soon as Bill entered, the room seemed to shift. All eyes turned to him, the chatter dying down to a murmur. He adjusted his cufflinks, his expression one of disdain, as if the very air of t

He sat there, waiting patiently for Elias to return, his attention repeatedly drawn to the woman moving gracefully around the room. Her movements were fluid, almost hypnotic, and he found it difficult to look away. Her curvy figure, accentuated by her swaying hips and the way she carried herself, exuded a seductive charm that left him momentarily spellbound. He tried to shake off the thoughts swirling in his mind, but her presence was intoxicating. It was a close call when Elias finally walked in, snapping him back to reality."Hey, sir," he said, quickly standing up, his voice slightly unsteady."Oh, hey, sonny," Elias replied, dusting off his feet at the entrance. He slipped off his slippers and left them on the porch before stepping inside. "What brings you here?" he asked, his tone casual but curious."I... uh... well, I came to ask for a favour," he muttered, hesitating.Elias raised an eyebrow, his expression puzzled. "A favour? What kind of favour?"The young man took a deep b

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

Blake moved through the room with the practised ease of someone who had spent decades maintaining order in chaos. He picked up the scattered clothes, folding them neatly and placing them in a laundry basket he had retrieved from the closet. His hands moved with precision, each motion deliberate, as if every crease in the fabric mattered. Bill sat on the edge of the bed, watching him silently, his lollipop stick now discarded on the nightstand. The sweetness had long since faded, leaving only a bitter aftertaste.As Blake worked, he spoke, his voice calm and measured, like the steady ticking of the antique clock downstairs. "Your father and I met many years ago, Master Bill. Did you know that?"Bill shook his head, his eyes fixed on the floor. "No. He never talked about you much. Just called you his butler."Blake smiled faintly, his hands pausing as he smoothed out a wrinkled shirt. "I was more than that to him. We were friends long before I became his butler. I chose this role becaus