2025-01-14 19:21:37Peter sat in the waiting room of St. Lucille Hospital, his legs bouncing uncontrollably. He couldn’t sit still. Every part of him wanted to burst through the doors and see his mother, to make sure she was okay.
The clock on the wall seemed to mock him, each second stretching longer than the last. Finally, a doctor pushed through the double doors, scanning the room. “Peter Donovan?” He shot to his feet so fast he nearly stumbled. “Yes!” The doctor approached, his face calm but exhausted. “I have bad news.” Peter’s stomach tightened. “What… what’s wrong?” The doctor sighed, rubbing his forehead before meeting Peter’s eyes. “Peter… I’m so sorry. Your mother has been diagnosed with stage-one primordial spinal cancer. It’s aggressive, and she needs immediate surgery.” The words slammed into Peter like a sledgehammer. His vision blurred, his pulse hammering in his ears. His chest tightened, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. “Cancer?” The word felt foreign in his mouth. “But… but she was doing fine. The medicine was helping—” His voice cracked. The doctor shook his head. “I know. But her condition has worsened faster than we expected.” The doctor hesitated. “Peter, the truth is… if she doesn’t get surgery within the next six hours, she might not survive the night. Her condition is deteriorating fast.” Peter clenched his fists. “Then do it! What are you waiting for?” The doctor sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Unfortunately, we can’t proceed.” “Why not?!” Peter’s voice cracked, panic creeping in. The doctor hesitated. “Peter… the surgery is very expensive. Your mother doesn’t have health insurance, and based on her financial history, the hospital won’t be able to move forward without payment upfront.” Peter’s breath hitched. “How much? I’ll pay for it. Just tell me how much it costs!” The doctor slowly pulled out a notepad, scribbled something down, and handed it to him. “I’m truly sorry.” Peter stared at the note, His heart stopped. His breath catching in his throat. His hands trembled as he read the figure: £100,000. The number might as well have been a death sentence. His legs gave out, and he collapsed into a chair, the note shaking in his trembling hands. One hundred thousand euros. Six hours. What the hell was he supposed to do? He had nothing. No savings. No credit. No way to get that kind of money. His vision blurred, panic consuming him. Peter’s mind spun, searching for options. Loans? No, their credit score was garbage. Friends? He had none rich enough. He was running out of time. Think, Peter, think! Then it hit him—his job. His boss. Suddenly his phone vibrated. A text from his boss: “Meet me in the office now.” It was like fate was giving him a sign. Their credit was too low for a loan. They had no rich friends. No family to help. But maybe… maybe his boss could. This was it. This was his only chance. Peter surged to his feet, shoving the note into his pocket, and stormed out of the hospital. His mother’s life was hanging by a thread. And he was running out of time. A hundred thousand euros. He had no idea how else to get that kind of money. He had just one shot. If this failed… His feet carried him forward, almost on instinct. When he stopped, he found himself staring at the same billboard he had passed that morning. “RISK NOTHING, GAIN NOTHING.” The glowing words seemed to mock him. Peter clenched his fists. This wasn’t about risk. This was about saving his mother. He shook off the thought and hurried toward Pizza Prizm, his workplace. …. Peter stormed into Pizza Prizm, dripping wet. He didn’t care. He pushed past the kitchen, heading straight for the manager’s office. He knocked—hard. “Come in,” came the deep, uninterested voice from inside. Peter pushed the door open. His boss, Mr. Caldwell, sat behind a cluttered desk, lazily sipping his coffee. He was a heavyset man in his late forties, his gut straining against the buttons of his shirt. His thinning hair was slicked back with too much gel, and his thick fingers tapped against the desk like he had all the time in the world. “Have a seat,” Caldwell said, not bothering to look up. Peter sat, barely holding himself together. “Sir, I was so glad to see your message because I actually—” Caldwell cut him off with a sigh and slid a folded paper across the desk. “Just shut up and take this.” Peter hesitated, then grabbed the paper and unfolded it. His eyes skimmed the words. Then his stomach dropped. "Notice of Pay Deduction: 70% due to improper customer relations." His hands started shaking. “What… what is this?!” Caldwell finally looked up, his expression unreadable. “It’s exactly what it says,” he replied flatly. “Starting this month, 70% of your paycheck will be deducted due to a complaint made against you.” Peter’s mouth went dry. “No. No, this has to be a mistake.” Caldwell raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying I made a mistake?” Peter’s breath hitched. Calm down. Think. He swallowed. “Sir, this says I’m being punished for ‘improper customer relations’ during a delivery. That never happened!” Caldwell shrugged. “A man called earlier today, threatening to sue the company. Said you harassed him and his girlfriend during a delivery.” Peter’s stomach turned. Naomi. Her new boyfriend. “This is a lie,” Peter said, voice shaking with rage. Caldwell smirked. “Well, I don’t know what happened, but I do know one thing—the company isn’t interested in lawsuits. So, consider yourself lucky I didn’t fire you on the spot.” Peter gritted his teeth. Not now. Not when his mother’s life depended on this job. “I can’t accept this,” he said, forcing his voice to stay calm. “Sir, I was actually coming here to ask for a raise. Or even a loan.” Caldwell laughed. Loud. Cruel. The boss sighed and leaned back in his chair, adjusting his expensive-looking watch. “Peter, I don’t know what fantasy world you’re living in, but this is a business. You think I’m just handing out money?” He chuckled dryly. “Grow up.” Peter clenched his fists. “Sir, please. I wasn’t asking for charity—I was asking for a loan.” His boss scoffed. “A loan? For what? A sick relative? A debt to pay? I hear these sob stories every week. It’s not my problem.” “MY MOTHER is DYING!!!” Peter rose and yelled. The room went silent. Caldwell let out a slow sigh, like this conversation was a waste of his time. “I’m sorry about that, kid,” he said finally. “But your mother’s condition is not the company’s concern, neither is it mine” Peter’s jaw clenched. “You can’t be serious. You can't be that heartless.” Caldwell’s smirk returned. “I suggest you leave now.” “I’m not moving an inch until I get what I came here for.” Caldwell tilted his head. “Very well, then.” He picked up his office phone. “Security.” Peter’s heart pounded. His hands clenched into fists. “Sir, please. You can’t do this.” “Security, I need this man removed immediately.” The boss continued, completely unfazed. Seconds later, three men stormed in. “No!” Peter’s voice cracked. He lunged forward, grabbing the edge of the desk, desperation burning in his veins. “Just listen to me—” Two grabbed Peter by the arms. He struggled, but their grip was iron-tight. The boss adjusted his tie and smirked. “Your termination letter will be sent to your email. Oh, and Peter?” Peter’s chest heaved, his teeth clenched. “I do hope your mother gets better.” Red-hot fury exploded inside him. He didn’t even think before shouting— “YOU BASTARD! I WILL RUIN YOU IF IT’S THE LAST THING I DO!”
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The Gambling System Chapter 4: Black
Her smirk widened into a grin. “All of it? Big move, kid.”She frowned slightly as she appraised and checked through each chip to make sure they were valid and legit, before stacking the 25 chips, each worth a thousand euros. For a moment, she hesitated, then said quietly, “Good luck. You’ll need it.”She slid the chips across the counter. Peter stared at them like they were grenades waiting to go off. His hands shook as he picked them up.As he turned to face the tables, the weight of what he was about to do hit him. This wasn’t just about money. It was about his mother’s life.And now, there was no turning back.Peter stepped onto the gambling floor, gripping his chips like they might vanish if he let go. The noise hit him like a wave—laughter, shouting, the clinking of glasses and chips, the mechanical whir of slot machines. It felt overwhelming.And the stares—he could feel them. They weren’t just glancing this time. People were whispering, pointing.“Is that what I think i
The Gambling System Chapter 5: Embrace the darkness
The croupier’s hand swept across the table, collecting Peter’s chips in one smooth motion. Peter froze, his entire body numb. He stared at the wheel, as though willing it to spin again, but it was final. The little white ball rested in a red slot, mocking him. Around him, murmurs rippled through the crowd. A few spectators shook their heads and drifted back to their own games, while others lingered, staring at him with pity or curiosity, as if watching a tragedy unfold. Peter’s knees buckled. He gripped the edge of the table to keep from collapsing, his breath ragged. The number 20,625 pounded in his head like a hammer, louder than the noise of the casino. His mother’s face flashed before him—her frail body hooked up to machines, waiting for him to save her. He imagined walking into that hospital empty-handed, her hopeful expression fading into despair. He’d failed. “Rough break,” Falcone said smoothly, his voice slicing through the fog of Peter’s mind like a blade.
The Gambling System Chapter 6: QUEST ACTIVATED: ROULETTE REVENGE
Peter had passed out. Hours later, his eyes flickered open. He wasn’t healed. He wasn’t saved. But he was alive. And for the first time in his short, miserable life, he felt the faintest glimmer of something foreign.Hope.The rain poured steadily, washing blood and grime from his face. His body screamed in protest as he raised himself to a seated position, his limbs heavy as lead. The pain was unbearable, but the fact that he’d survived—that he could move at all—left him more stunned than anything.It had to be a dream, Peter thought. But as he clutched his chest, gasping for breath, the semi-transparent screen appeared in front of him again, its glow cutting through the rain.……..[PLAYER PROFILE]LEVEL: 1EXP: 0/100Skill: NoneInventory: See more...…….Peter blinked, his eyes widening. “Oh, it definitely wasn’t a dream,” he muttered.……[SYSTEM REPORT]Default system skill attained: Bank Roll Level 1 – 1 million euros per day.Explanation: The player is granted 1 m
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The Gambling System Chapter 8: Let's eat
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The Gambling System Chapter 10: Gone Green
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Chapter 98: The Cornered King
The moment Viktor declared his 200 billion euro investment, the auditorium detonated in sheer chaos. Screams. Gasps. Phones snapping pictures. Some students stood in shock, others cheered like they were watching a high-stakes sports final. "Two hundred billion?!" "Is this real life?" "Who the hell has that kind of money just sitting around?" "That’s not gambling. That’s a declaration of war!" "Bro… this isn’t a game anymore. This is a massacre." Even some of the professors seated in the higher rows murmured uneasily, their whispers blotted by the crowd’s explosion of disbelief. A girl near the aisle dropped her soda and didn't even notice. A guy in a leather jacket muttered under his breath, "That’s more than the GDP of a small country." Katherina leaned forward in her seat, eyes wide with twisted delight. "Ooooh, it’s happening. The stakes are no longer just life or death — they’re legacy. This is beautiful." Grant, meanwhile, sat frozen in place — mouth parted, mind racin
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
