The Gambler

Chapter 5: The Decision

Bill felt truly humbled as he left Elias’s house, his mind swirling with disbelief and self-doubt. He couldn’t fathom how he had lost so badly to an old man. Was he not good enough, or had the old man cheated? No, that couldn’t be it—he had been right there, watching every move. The thoughts raced through his mind like wildfire, each one more unsettling than the last.

He trudged home, his mood heavy and his spirit crushed. For the first time in a long time, he felt utterly defeated. Yet, amidst the turmoil, one thought lingered more persistently than the rest: *Who was this old man who had so effortlessly beaten him at gambling?* Elias had been calm, calculative, and unshakable. He hadn’t risen to Bill’s provocations, hadn’t shown a hint of desperation. And his house—it was a masterpiece of Japanese design, serene and perfectly suited to his enigmatic nature. What did Elias mean by all the cryptic things he had said during their game?

Bill spent the evening dwelling on his defeat, replaying the events in his mind over and over. The sting of loss clung to him as he finally slipped into bed, the gamble still haunting his thoughts.

The next morning, sunlight filtered through Bill’s modern, intricately designed windows, casting a warm glow across his room. The walls were adorned with vibrant wallpapers of fantasy girls and game characters, a testament to his eclectic tastes. His bed, a marvel of contemporary design, stood out like a throne, while the ceiling hosted a standing fan and a chandelier that sparkled like diamonds.

“W...warrhhhh,” Bill yawned, stretching as he slowly slipped out of bed. He shuffled toward the mirror, staring at his reflection. “Morning, loser,” he muttered to himself, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

After washing his face and taking a refreshing bath, Bill sat on the edge of his bed, clad only in his boxers and a singlet. He let his thoughts wander. This guy really beat me, he mused, still struggling to accept the defeat. But what am I supposed to do now? Stop gambling because of one loss? No! I’ve been looking for someone to humble me, and I finally found him. I should be grateful, not sulking.

With renewed determination, Bill headed downstairs to the spacious living area of his duplex. His father’s will, signed and left to him after his mysterious disappearance, granted Bill 80% of his vast property holdings, with the remaining 20% donated to charity. That 20% wasn’t just a few thousand gold coins—it was millions. The will had been handed to Bill almost as if his father had anticipated vanishing one day.

The cool morning air wafted through the house, cross-ventilating through the elegantly designed door windows. Bill made his way to the kitchen, a well-endowed space with a U-shaped cabinet, utensils crafted from silver and gold, and a finely furnished chimney. The kitchen was impeccably ventilated, a hallmark of good design.

He opened the cabinet, retrieved a cup of coffee, and set water to boil. Once ready, he poured the hot water over the coffee grounds, letting the rich aroma fill the air. After adding a splash of milk and a sprinkle of sugar, he carried the cup into the living room.

The rug beneath his feet was a symbol of luxury, the kind only the wealthy could afford, with lights that shimmered faintly as he stepped on it. The couch, crafted from the finest fabrics and wood, was designed for ultimate comfort—so comfortable, in fact, that one could easily fall asleep on it.

Bill settled onto the sofa, sipping his coffee with a sense of quiet contemplation. His thoughts inevitably drifted back to the previous night’s events. How did I lose to that old man? What was his name again? Elijah? Elija? Elias—yes, that’s it.

Finally, Bill made a decision. He would seek out Elias and ask to be trained by him. If he couldn’t beat him, he would learn from him.

Finishing his coffee quickly, Bill hurried upstairs, dressed in fresh clothes, and headed out. His house stood unguarded—he didn’t trust anyone enough to leave his property in their care. As he strolled toward Elias’s home, he felt a newfound sense of humility.

When he arrived, the Japanese-style house looked just as serene as he remembered. He knocked on the door, and after a moment, a woman answered. She appeared to be in her early 30s but had the youthful glow of a teenager. Her slender, hourglass figure was striking, and her movements were hypnotically graceful.

“Hello, dear. May I help you?” she asked, her voice carrying a soft Japanese accent.

“I’m here to see, uh… Mr. Elijah,” Bill stammered, fumbling over the name.

“Elias, you mean,” she corrected gently.

“Yes, him,” Bill replied, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“He’s not here at the moment, but you’re welcome to wait for him,” she said, sliding the door open wider.

Bill quickly averted his gaze, though he couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly captivating she was. He stepped into the front porch, taking a seat as he prepared to wait for Elias. The air was calm, the surroundings tranquil, and Bill couldn’t shake the feeling that his life was about to change in ways he couldn’t yet imagine.