A few consecutive hands had mixed results; the gentleman next to Lynch seed to be having bad luck, losing several hands in a row.
His temper didn’t seem very good either, as he muttered curses under his breath.
This was pretty surprising, actually. Most successful people, after acquiring wealth and status, quickly improve their manners.
When they’re poor, they can’t help it; their main focus is on survival.
Once they get past the basic needs and have enough surplus, they start paying attention to their manners and character.
The Federation has institutions specifically for this, teaching their clients how to act like an elite rather than a well-dressed hick.
So you rarely see soone swearing in public at this level, almost never.
The turn of the dealer quickly ca to the gentleman who liked to swear sitting next to Lynch.
After a while of playing, the girl gradually found gambling boring and started yawning.
Lynch didn’t want to stay here any longer either; he didn’t like gambling, and this place was not enjoyable for him at all.
He placed all his chips on the table, leaving a thousand-dollar chip as a tip for the chip girl.
The young girl, dressed simply, had been standing there with her tray for quite so ti; no gentleman would be so stingy as to do nothing.
In less than an hour, she earned a thousand dollars, which was much better than working; she repeatedly thanked Lynch for his generosity.
"Mr. Lynch has placed a ten thousand Sol bet..." the croupier running the ga proactively reminded the other players at the table, as was part of his job.
Minimum bets don’t require a reminder, but maximum bets must be noted.
Ten thousand dollars... in the eyes of those here, it’s nothing. As a well-known person placing a ten thousand dollar bet, out of respect, the others followed suit.
Thus, the other six people around the table also topped up their bets to ten thousand dollars.
The gentleman next to Lynch, acting as dealer, suddenly pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his forehead, his face looking sowhat pale.
"Are you feeling unwell?" Lynch asked kindly. "Do you need a doctor?"
The gentleman suddenly grabbed Lynch’s hand as he was about to raise it, looking at him with a fierce gaze that quickly softened, "No, I don’t need one, I’m just a bit hot, it’s stuffy in here."
As he spoke, he tugged at his collar and accidentally popped a button.
Lynch withdrew his hand, "Alright then."
The gentleman next to him forced a smile and withdrew his hand as well.
Seeing that nothing else happened, the croupier began dealing cards. To everyone’s surprise, Lynch found that his hole card matched his face-up card.
Without hesitation, he casually flipped over his hole card, "Split..."
He then threw another ten thousand dollars in chips into the betting area.
When there’s a pair, you can choose to split, doubling the bet, turning one hand into two.
Both hands turned out well; Lynch glanced again at the uninterested girl and casually tossed another twenty thousand dollars in chips into the betting area, "Double it."
Doubling allows you to receive another card, but it stops the ga—you can’t hit or take any other action.
Two cards ca, neither busting nor too high, fifteen and seventeen points. Such a score can easily get you disqualified.
His ga could have ended there, but he noticed that the profanity-loving gentleman beside him was getting even hotter.
He was sweating all over, and his handkerchief was clearly soaked, his eyes filled with panic; Lynch couldn’t understand what was wrong with him.
Maybe he was feeling unwell or... afraid of losing money?
He thought that might be the case, judging by so subtle gestures; he seed very afraid of losing money, his eyes darting back and forth between his cards and those of others, filled with panic.
This made Lynch find it very interesting; soone who could spend a million or two on a top-of-the-line Kleve would care about losing a few tens of thousands?
Maybe this is the quirk of the wealthy?
Lynch once knew a guy who was very rich and liked to play cards too, but he only played five-dollar gas; he wouldn’t play if it involved more money.
So said he couldn’t play well, so he didn’t play big gas; others said he was too stingy to play big gas.
There were many theories until he admitted he once lost his tuition, had to drop out, and beca wealthy.
What happened that day was unforgettable, becoming a ntal barrier; losing money made his heart race, the more he counted, the faster it beat. Yet, he loved gambling so much that he could only play gas with minor stakes.
Such a strange problem, only to be attributed to psychological reasons, perhaps this gentleman was the sa.
When the other players stood, it was the turn of the swearing dealer next to Lynch.
He repeatedly lifted and put back his hole card, seemingly in great distress, a move that made people realize his hand might not be very favorable.
To hit might lead to busting.
Not to hit yet appeared similar to others who had shown their cards so far, hence his dilemma.
No one urged him, after waiting for about one or two minutes, he seed to make a difficult decision, "One more card..."
He looked at the croupier as if placing all his hopes on him.
Actually, even if he busted, the compensation would only be ninety thousand dollars, it really didn’t need to co to this.
The croupier placed a card on the shoe and sent it over, he slowly picked it up, glanced at it, and his face instantly beca incredibly pale.
"Please reveal your cards, gentlen..."
In the Federation’s blackjack rules, rotating bank is when the dealer reveals their cards first, and fixed bank is when the dealer reveals their cards last.
Everyone stared at the gentleman who liked to curse, his face had lost all color, as if his soul had left him, he slowly placed his card on the table and unveiled his hole card.
"Twenty-three points, I’m sorry, the dealer pays everyone."
"Sir, your chips on the table are not enough to compensate others, may I ask how you will settle these debts?"
"Cash or check?"
The gentleman, already soaked in sweat and fond of cursing, trembled his lips and uttered two words, "Check."
At this point, Lynch also felt sowhat weary; people tend to get exhausted when doing sothing they don’t enjoy but have to do.
After her excitent, Penny’s spirit also started to wane.
"Convert the round amount into a check, and these...", he picked up approximately three thousand five hundred dollars left, divided it into two portions, one of two thousand dollars thrown to the girl with the chips beside him, and one thousand five hundred dollars given to the croupier.
Both of them thanked Mr. Lynch for his generosity and promised to deliver his check to his room as soon as possible.
"Let’s go, get so rest!"
Even winning "big money" couldn’t excite the girl, she uttered an "oh", draped half of her body over Lynch, and both quickly returned to the room.
Nothing to speak of through the night, mainly because they slept very soundly.
At nine-thirty the next morning, there was a knock on the door.
Lynch was already up, but the girl was still asleep.
Nineteen can also be considered the ti for growing, coupled with her usual high-intensity work, it’s easy to beco sleepy, taking long naps is quite normal.
Lynch closed the bedroom door, walked to the cabin door, and opened it.
"Very sorry, Mr. Lynch...", upon opening the door, Lynch’s exclusive manager bowed deeply and apologized wholeheartedly.
This caught Lynch by surprise, he smiled and said, "What happened, is it about or you?"
The manager straightened up and handed Lynch a check, "I should’ve co last night."
Lynch took the check, glanced at it, frowned slightly, "This is ten thousand dollars; I rember it should be eight thousand dollars."
The manager’s face turned both embarrassed and confessed, "That’s also why I must apologize to you, the gentleman who shared the table with you last night was not among our invited guests."
"We didn’t know how he got an invitation until he couldn’t settle his debts."
"For this, we deeply apologize, and I know this can’t make up for one tenth of our mistake at work. If you have any requests, please let know, as we want to rectify our mistake."
The female manager, ever poised to sacrifice for work, amused Lynch since Every Mont people knew Lynch and other guests wouldn’t make excessive demands, yet required their managers to portray complete agreeability.
These people are very cunning, that’s why they thrive in business.
"You already compensated ...", he flicked the check, they gave him two thousand dollars more, "At the sa ti, I hope this is the only issue during this journey; honestly, it lowers my impression quite a bit."
The female manager bent again, deep enough for Lynch to unzip, "Deeply sorry, Mr. Lynch!"
"I was just joking.", Lynch looked at the female manager, shaking his head, "Alright, I need to rest, so..."
"My apologies, once again, Mr. Lynch, if there’s any way to make up for our errors, please feel free to let know."
"I’ll leave you to continue your rest, goodbye!"
The female manager watched the door close again, breathed a sigh of relief, while cursing the bastard in the lower deck who fooled her and many others.
That fellow who toyed with her and nurous others was having a rough ti, receiving special attention from Every Mont Company’s security departnt.
In the boiler room of the lower deck, a muscular man with a scarred torso held a water pot.
Inside was boiling water, and before him lay a bruised gentleman; if Lynch were here, he’d instantly recognize him.
He was the sweaty gentleman fond of cursing from last night.
"I admire your endurance; hope you can keep earning my respect...", the muscular man tilted the pot, hot water gushed from the spout, splashing onto the wretched man’s calf.
The pain from the high temperature fueled him with strength to scream, but this was definitely not the end.
After pouring a pot of hot water, the sturdy gentleman took out a wire brush for rust removal and vigorously scrubbed the already half-cooked calf.
In less than thirty seconds, the bone was clearly visible.
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