The Scoundrel Prince Sold Out the Empire - Chapter 55

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 55: No Touch! I said No Touch!(8)
The pit of ruin into which the duke would be pushed had been completed with the duke’s own money.
Casino of Casinos
The Zionia
“That sign alone is absolutely magnificent, I must say.”
Zion gazed up at the ornamental plaque carved into the building’s central facade and let out a soft laugh.
Luminous Street in Seiel. Famed as Deber’s premier destination for entertainment and amusement, it drew crowds of those who fancied themselves wealthy enough to gamble away their fortunes.
Among the elegant buildings that lined the street, the casino structure shone as if it alone had captured the light.
Though that wasn’t mere metaphor—it actually glowed.
Hundreds of Mana Lamps ringed in gold illuminated the facade, despite the sun not yet having set.
“In mere months, something like this springs into being.”
There was satisfaction in it, but also a strange, unsettled feeling.
The fundamental reason Mana Engineering had rendered magic obsolete so swiftly.
The explanation that one becomes subject to surveillance by Magical Power sensors once Magical Power dwells in the body was, in truth, only half the story.
The true essence stood before his eyes.
An overwhelming productive capacity—an entire building conjured into existence within a month or two.
Magic, shrouded in secrecy and mystery, transmitted only through the bloodlines of the gifted, could never match such force.
“Magic lost because it was inferior. That’s the simple truth.”
For the world’s sole Grand Mage, the sentiment was remarkably dry.
Well, what of it? It was the truth, after all.
“Your Highness! The subjects of the Empire pay their respects to a member of the great Divine Clan.”
“Ah, yes. Rise from your bow.”
Nobles and businessmen descending from the line of automobiles recognized Zion and hurried to bend their spines before him.
The angle of their bows had changed considerably from half a year prior.
“Your Highness.”
This time it was Duke Remikoning.
“The subjects of the Empire pay their respects to a member of the great Divine Clan.”
Beside the duke, Winter bowed his head quietly.
“I pay my respects to Your Highness.”
The duke’s lips twitched slightly as he observed Winter—who, unlike himself, omitted the formal bow of respect, having been granted that dispensation.
Zion paid him no mind and continued.
“Winter. Or rather, President Winter. How does it feel? Your first enterprise opens its doors today, after all.”
“It is all thanks to Your Highness and the Duke’s generosity.”
“Generosity? I’m hardly one to speak of such things. I merely contributed a pittance toward my son’s endeavor, haha.”
The duke’s laughter carried an oily sheen.
Well, why wouldn’t it? The smell of money clung thickly to him.
He had carved out a substantial portion of the enterprise’s profits and shares as compensation for his investment in the construction costs—a directive issued by the prince himself.
‘Though in time, Winter will inherit that stake anyway.’
Zion smiled faintly at the duke and turned to walk.
“Shall we enter?”
The opening ceremony was magnificent.
An orchestra played cheerful music without a single break, and beneath the Crystal Chandelier in the hall’s center, card tables and roulette wheels stood in orderly rows.
Beyond that, the periphery held an array of spirits and light refreshments.
“The layout is quite well designed.”
“There are no clocks. Patrons won’t notice time passing as they play cards.”
“Ah, you’ve caught on already. How keen.”
“Hahahaha!”
“Hahahaha.”
He conducted the gathered guests on a full circuit of the casino’s interior.
It served as both a tour and a final inspection.
‘Quere Stellam Orbita.’
Light rippled gently in the depths of his right eye.
Colorless Magical Power descended through his body and dispersed throughout the entire building via his feet.
“By the way, no magical artifacts can be used in this place. Since I detest Magic above all else, you understand—hahahaha!”
It was no joke, but literal truth.
He had just sealed the continuous flow of all Magical Power.
This was Deber’s sole casino where fraud through magical artifacts was absolutely impossible.
‘There is but one exception.’
Zion glanced briefly at Winter and took his seat at a table.
“Now then! Who among you will claim the honor of becoming the first patron alongside this prince at the casino!”
Businessmen rushed to claim their seats.
“To share the opening hand with His Highness—what an honor to our house!”
“I must tell my daughter about tonight!”
Not long ago, I was being turned away from every social club, but things have changed considerably.
Though most of them are money-hungry fools here to fawn over me.
Still, it’s pleasant. I’m willing to keep them close.
If the Empire’s future is to bend toward my vision, these sorts need to rise higher.
“Well then, shall we begin?”
* * *
Marquis Remikoning sat at his place at the table, watching the prince across from him and Winter seated beside him.
Winter gestured with his eyes toward the seat next to him.
The signal meant he was to follow only what they’d arranged beforehand.
Today the Marquis was expecting to win at least double his money.
‘Heh heh, I’ll need to exchange more chips. These lowly creatures have their uses after all.’
“Naturally, we’ll play by Imperial rules.”
Cards flowed from Winter’s hand like water.
“My opening hand is poor. I fold.”
“I’ll risk a wager.”
The first hand played out smoothly.
The winner was a nameless businessman, who took a modest pot.
The second hand followed.
‘Now, perhaps.’
The Marquis placed his bet in time with Winter’s signal.
“Raise. Shall we start at five hundred thousand Luon?”
“Five hundred thousand!”
“Your cards seem to have turned out well.”
After a tense showdown with one businessman, the Marquis took the hand.
‘Phew…….’
The Marquis suppressed his racing heartbeat and pulled a heap of chips toward himself.
Because the rounds had cycled several times, even by the Marquis’s reckoning it was a considerable sum.
The third and fourth hands he played conservatively, and then the fifth.
“Well, my cards came up like this.”
“……It seems fortune itself has settled upon your hands, Marquis.”
He won again.
‘Is playing cards truly this pleasurable?’
It made sense now why every social club had a card table.
Such a refined pursuit, who would have known.
He almost regretted not having enjoyed it sooner.
“I fold. Your momentum is frightening, Marquis.”
“Ha! But if you drop out already, where’s the fun in that!”
Even with two players folding early, the pot grew quite substantial, and the Marquis’s hand was short by just a single card.
“Change!”
It was the prince who called it out boldly.
“Marquis! Hand over your third card! Fortune has favored this prince, and it demands that card!”
By the rules, one card was exchanged between the prince and the Marquis, and the result—
“Raise. I’ll double it.”
“Oh, perhaps I shouldn’t have swapped. But I can’t concede the upper hand. I’ll see you.”
A genuine contest of wills between prince and Marquis.
And the outcome—
“Wow!”
“The Marquis takes it!”
“Why, if His Highness hadn’t used the Change just now, the result might have been different!”
“Tch—next hand! Start immediately!”
The Marquis called out at once.
“If you shout like that, we won’t be able to play! Very well!”
Cards in his right hand, a wine glass and cigarette in his left.
The wine is sweet, and the smoke wraps around him thickly.
“Shall I pour another, Marquis?”
“Pour away! What’s the use of sparing on a night like this!”
How much money had he poured into that gold mine at the bottom?
Every time I’d done the math over these past few days, my temples throbbed.
‘There it is. The opening I needed.’
That was when the Marquis’s eyes blazed brightest.
“Ahem. Cigarette smoke.”
It was Winter.
A signal to fold this hand.
The Marquis glanced down at his cards.
The Raise was already high.
Fold now? Really?
“Ahem.”
A false cough. A sign that even if another bet deepened his losses, he wanted to stay in.
The round continued.
The Marquis’s hand had become strong enough that folding would invite ridicule.
“Ahem. Someone bring a fan. There’s too much smoke.”
“Losing streak making you irritable, Winter?”
“Not at all.”
Another signal to fold.
The Marquis tightened his grip on his cards.
‘Damn fool. Just because he can play cards, he thinks he can tell me which hands to throw away?’
“Call. No—Raise. I’m raising.”
Winter watched the Marquis ignore his signal and allowed himself a private smile.
The dough had risen enough. Time to slide it into the scorching oven.
* * *
The cards turned over.
Time stopped for the Marquis.
“Hahahaha! Did you all see? This is the fortune that descends upon the Divine Clan!”
The Prince and the Marquis both held the third-highest hand possible.
In other words, they were identical.
But.
The Prince held one higher card than the Marquis.
“…How.”
It had been the best hand.
Surely it had been the best hand.
Zion’s cards stared down at the Marquis’s from exactly one rung higher.
The largest pot since the evening began was sliding into the Prince’s hands.
“How? Merely because this Prince’s fortune runs deeper and higher than yours.”
A single remark, drawled as the Prince raked in the mountain of chips.
Heat flooded the Marquis’s chest.
“I’ll step away to the restroom for a moment.”
Winter rose from his seat.
It was another signal, so the Marquis manufactured an excuse and followed.
“Father. You should have listened to me.”
“…”
He felt the urge to strike his son across the face.
After squandering not only his winnings but a substantial portion of his principal, was that all his son had to say?
“It’s fine. We can recover. From now on, just follow my lead. Understood?”
“…Understood.”
Yes.
The night was still young.
The mood was sour, but if he simply did as he’d been doing, that was enough.
“To win back faster, we’ll need more ammunition. I’ll convert another case of chips.”
“Father, are you certain?”
“What do you take me for.”
The Marquis withdrew his checkbook from his jacket.
With one additional case of chips loaded, he returned to the table.
“Call.”
“Raise.”
“Excellent! I’ve won again!”
He folded as his son advised.
He bet as his son commanded.
Indeed, the change began flowing back.
Handful by handful.
‘Yes. This is it. The flow is returning.’
The very next hand after feeling the flow return.
The Duke felt destiny once more.
“This hand doesn’t sit well with me. I’ll call.”
“Hmm. I, too, shall observe a while longer.”
While the game dragged on with no one going all in, at some point the fever took hold.
The accumulated pot, when tallied together, exceeded the Duke’s total cash-out amount.
‘They want me to fold? Without even seeing my cards, what do they know! Winter is wrong. This time, my judgment is sound.’
It was not.
“Ah, Duke! What a shame, what a shame. Always just shy of it, aren’t you? Ha ha ha ha!”
His entire stake was swept away.
“Your Grace. It seems the Divine has stepped away from the table this evening.”
The bearded businessman who’d been wailing in defeat moments before, now a victor collecting his chips, offered this consolation with a grin.
Veins stood out at the Duke’s temples.
“……Hold your tongue. This night is not yet finished.”
The next hand went well.
The one after that went poorly, and the one after that was disastrous.
One handful came back; two piles went out.
The Duke himself had lost count of how many times he’d refused to fold when he should have.
A bank messenger ran to him three more times, and when he tore up the third check, his hand holding the pen refused to obey—his signature came out crooked.
“Your Grace. Are you quite well……?”
“Fill it. I said fill it!”
At the shout from above, the attendant refilled the glass with trembling hands.
“Your Grace. I think we should call it a night. The flow has turned against you. Return tomorrow, and I shall welcome you again.”
Even Winter’s remonstrance could not budge the Duke from his seat.
“One more hand. Just one more hand.”
“…….”
He seemed bewitched.
All the more so because he did not perceive the bewitchment himself.
Zion watched the Duke in silence.
‘It turned out just as Winter said. Today became the best day of the Duke’s life.’
Memories of loss scatter like castles of sand.
But the memory of holding hundreds of millions in hand is seared like a brand.
A night when the possibility of grasping that same joy again dances before his eyes.
A night when the sensation of his heart pounding against his ribs is so exquisitely sharp that even pain becomes pleasure.
Because he cannot forget this night, not for a long time.
Tomorrow, the day after, he will cross this threshold of his own accord.
‘Winter would be more than capable of making it happen.’
That day.
The Duke withdrew more than half of what lay in his account.
Every last coin, he lost.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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