Alex didn’t raise an eyebrow, but a quiet, satisfied smile flickered in his mind: “Oh, two pairs already… If I’m lucky, might even hit a full house.”

  Still, he reminded himself: “Focus. No rushing. Remember what your mentor said—don’t play the hand, play the player. Analyze first, then act.”

  Alex’s gaze slowly scanned the table.

  The irritated man to his left subconsciously began moving his lips again. Something about him suggested that queen helped him. “Could he have a set of queens? Or hoping for a flush? Clubs… very interesting.”

  The emerald lady—still mysterious, confident. Her posture hadn’t changed. Either she was very skilled, or… she was holding something big.

  The woman in black exhaled another plume of smoke. A gleam appeared in her eyes—was it excitement, or deception?

  The man in red took another sip of wine, then said briefly:

  "I fold," and set his cards aside.

  Alex gently ran his fingers along the edge of his cards. “That’s one out. And for me... this hand is perfect to make a move.”

  "Please place the final bets," the dealer's calm tone interrupted the brief silence among the players.

  The woman in the yellow dress was first to act. She didn’t rush. Her slender fingers, adorned with elegant rings, slowly traced the edges of her cards, her eyes fixed on their faces. Her posture remained graceful and calm, with only a slight tightening of the lips betraying the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind.

  The silence stretched—first a few seconds, then a minute, then another. The soft noise of the hall, the murmur of spectators, the clink of glasses—all faded into the background. At the center of attention was her silent contemplation.

  Finally, the tension got to the nervous man who had already fired off several comments during the game.

  "Excuse me, madam," he said, trying to keep his voice indifferent, though nervousness still gnawed at every word. "Are we going to wait much longer for you to deign to act?"

  The woman in yellow didn’t respond immediately. Only after a few more seconds did she lift her calm gaze over the cards and reply in an even tone:

  "I need time to weigh my decision. In games like this, haste rarely leads to victory."

  "And what’s there to weigh?" the man grumbled, frowning. "Four cards are already on the table. If you’ve got something—play it. If not—fold, like your neighbor to the right."

  From the other end of the table came a soft, melodic laugh. The woman in black, who had already displayed cold elegance more than once, leaned forward slightly and, with her usual playful tone, said:

  "Oh, after that, it’s clear you’re just an amateur—nothing more."

  "How dare you—" the man began, but she interrupted calmly, without even raising her voice:

  "Poker is a subtle game. It’s not just about the cards. A strong hand doesn’t guarantee a win. You have to think. Study your opponents. Observe. How they hold their cards. How their shoulders move, their brows, their fingers. The way their voice sounds. Even a single drop of sweat can tell you more than an ace in the hole."

  She took a long drag on her cigarette, slowly exhaled the smoke, and smiled ominously.

  "This isn’t a game for those who just learned the rules. It’s for those who’ve learned to read people. That’s when it becomes truly thrilling."

  Her gaze, dark and gleaming from under the mask, slid toward the nervous man.

  "You, for example. If I’m not mistaken—you’ve got a set of queens. Am I right?"

  A bead of sweat glistened on the man’s forehead. His lips began to tremble slightly, moving like those of someone about to lie. He swallowed quickly, then forced a smile, where confidence battled with fear.

  "Thank you," he said, "for... that little lecture. But if you knew how many games I’ve played—and how many I’ve won—you might be a little more careful with your assessments."

  He paused, then turned his gaze to the woman in yellow and added, with a hint of challenge:

  "But let’s wait for this lady to make her move first. Then we’ll see who’s right."

  The Lady in Yellow slowly took a sip from her champagne glass, as if intentionally stretching out the pause. Her elegant fingers touched the stack of gold coins, and in a calm, almost velvety voice, she said:

  "I raise by fifty."

  The coins landed on the table with a characteristic clink. From the side came a quiet:

  "Well, finally..."

  The words were nearly indistinct, spoken almost in a whisper, but Alex caught them clearly. So did the Lady in Emerald, who raised an eyebrow ever so slightly but said nothing.

  The Woman in Black slowly inhaled from her cigarette. Her eyes gleamed again with that predatory spark that promised nothing good. She licked the corner of her lips, then said with a touch of playful charm in her voice:

  "For the final bet, you need a bit of show... don't you think?"

  She leaned forward slightly, her cigarette holder nearly touching the edge of the table.

  "I raise by one hundred gold," she added proudly, pushing the stack of coins in front of her with graceful flourish.

  "O-o-oh, now the game gets even more interesting," came the playful voice of the Lady in Emerald.

  The Woman in Black smiled again—this time wider—and dipped her head slightly in a gesture of thanks.

  "Thank you, my dear."

  Then her gaze shifted to Alex—direct, cold, yet laced with challenge.

  "I hope you won’t spoil the game, Mister Unknown. Chaos is the sugar of life, isn't it?"

  For a few seconds, Alex simply stared into her eyes. Two players—two masks—two unfamiliar souls playing not only for stakes but in a delicate psychological duel. In his thoughts, a voice echoed:

  "She's bluffing. She has nothing strong. I could just call and ride it out calmly, but... the mentor always said—only those unafraid to lose can truly enjoy the game."

  "I raise by five hundred," Alex said with a smile and slowly pushed a heavy handful of gold coins onto the table.

  The Woman in Black's eyes sparkled with delight. Her smile widened fully, and her slender fingers tapped lightly on her cigarette holder. She said nothing—just silently enjoyed her opponent’s boldness.

  "You fell for her words so easily, kid," the irritated Man growled hoarsely. "She’s playing you, and you’re falling for it like a puppy. Don’t be surprised when you walk out of here with nothing in your pockets."

  "Thanks for the concern," Alex replied with a faint smile. "But I can assure you—I know what I’m doing."

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  That phrase was the last straw. The man’s face twisted with rage.

  "You're an overconfident brat. Those coins aren’t even yours—they're your daddy’s. You're not a player—just some rich boy here for a thrill."

  Alex kept smiling.

  "Instead of counting someone else’s coins, perhaps you should place your own bet. And don’t stall the game."

  The man turned red, his fists clenched for a moment—and it seemed he might snap—when suddenly the calm yet firm voice of the female dealer cut through the air:

  "I remind you that in Duke Lorenzo’s gaming house, any use of force or magic is strictly forbidden. Please show respect for the other players."

  The angry man shot a sharp glare at her.

  "Don’t you dare give me orders! Do you even know who I—" he began but stopped abruptly.

  After a few seconds of silence, he spoke again, much more calmly, but still with condescension:

  "What does it matter. You’re just Lorenzo’s servant girl—you’ve probably never even seen the world outside this house."

  Alex glanced at the dealer. She still stood with perfect posture, her expression calm—neutral, even. As if she hadn't heard the insult at all.

  The Man in Red finally grew tired of the drama. He set his glass on the table and asked with a threatening undertone:

  "So? When are you planning to make your move, Mister? I’m quite eager to see how this game ends."

  "I raise," the irritated man rasped. "Seven hundred."

  The coins clattered onto the table. In his mind, the man thought confidently:

  "That’ll scare the kid. And the Lady in Yellow—she’ll definitely fold. I can feel it. The rest I’ll outplay easily, and the win will be mine."

  The Woman in Black laughed—lightly, clearly, elegantly—covering her mouth with refined fingers. Her shoulders shook slightly, as if from a delicate joke, not a crude display of masculine ego. When her laughter faded, she simply waved a hand toward the other players.

  "Apologies... truly, I couldn’t help myself." Then her gaze locked onto the irritated man’s eyes, and tilting her head, she asked with feigned concern:

  "Are you really sure of your actions, sir?"

  The man, barely containing his inflated pride, straightened his shoulders proudly.

  "Of course! With a hand like this..." He paused dramatically, "...it’d be hard to lose."

  Alex allowed himself the faintest smile. In his mind, the words rang out with a touch of irony:

  "He's lying. And not even blushing."

  The smile didn’t go unnoticed. The man glanced sideways at Alex, and with a strained tone, snapped:

  "What, something funny, boy? Laughing at your own stupidity for stepping into a grown-up game?"

  Alex didn’t let his expression change. His voice was calm, steady, almost indifferent.

  "No. Just remembering your words… and now, I’m more certain than ever." He smiled gently, leaning back slightly in his chair.

  For a moment, something flickered in the man’s eyes. The mask of confidence cracked—just barely—but in a psychological game, even that was more than enough. He said nothing, simply looked away.

  The next—and final—move was the Lady in Emerald’s.

  She silently took another elegant sip from her glass, licked the rim, and with a soft smile said:

  "I’ll call."

  Her hand gracefully slid seven hundred gold to the center of the table.

  The Lady in Yellow, still composed and cool-headed, said nothing. She simply added another six hundred and fifty gold to match the bet.

  The Woman in Black did the same—almost with a fire in her gesture, tossing another five hundred gold atop her previous stake.

  Alex noted inwardly:

  "No one folded. Interesting... Either everyone really does have a strong hand, or no one wants to look weak. In any case... it's time to end the game."

  His gaze drifted to the irritated man. The man sat pale, his lips slightly dry, fists clenched tightly under the table. Even his posture—awkwardly stiff—betrayed inner panic.

  Alex lowered his gaze to the coins already lying in front of him. Then, without saying a word, he raised the bet.

  The clink of coins echoed across the table. Silence hung in the air—tense, like a drawn string.

  The female dealer calmly announced:

  "All bets are placed. Time to reveal the final card."

  From beneath her fingers, the last card slid onto the table—a five of clubs. For a moment, the air in the room froze. Someone sighed almost imperceptibly, someone else—on the contrary—seemed to hold their breath.

  Alex quickly scanned the other players. The man in red—unshaken, still sipping his wine as if the game didn’t concern him. The lady in emerald—faint smile on her lips, calm, composed, confident. The woman in yellow—serene, nearly cold. Her face like a mask—impossible to read. The lady in black merely took a gentle drag from her cigarette, casually observing the table. And only the irritated man sitting to Alex’s left was glowing with joy, as if already counting his winnings in his head.

  "All cards are revealed," the dealer repeated softly. "Now it's your turn. Who would like to start?"

  "I will," said the man in red. "I've got nothing left to lose."

  He turned over his cards. King of diamonds and nine of diamonds.

  "Next," the lady in yellow raised her hand silently. She revealed a king of hearts and a king of spades.

  The lady in emerald arched her brow slightly.

  "May I ask… why did you raise the bet if you only had a pair?"

  For the first time in the game, the woman in yellow smiled warmly, her voice softening.

  "I hoped to win on a bluff. Especially after that lovely little performance we witnessed. Besides…" she glanced at the irritated man, "it was worth the try. Considering your behavior, I must admit it was quite hard to maintain a mask of indifference. No offense."

  He gave her a sly grin.

  "I don't care. Everything went according to plan."

  "According to plan?" the woman in black laughed again, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. "If your plan was to entertain us all, then I must say—you’ve done brilliantly."

  The man glared at her.

  "Instead of giving lectures the whole game—which were incredibly annoying, by the way—you should’ve shown your hand."

  She took another drag, then, as if satisfied with herself, flipped her cards. A two of hearts and an ace of spades.

  The man burst out laughing.

  "Is that all? So much flair—and a loss? Brilliant. Just brilliant."

  The woman shrugged.

  "For me, poker isn't about winning. It's about the atmosphere. The game. The company of interesting people." She exhaled another puff of smoke and added, "And besides, my favorite hasn’t revealed his hand yet. The best part is yet to come."

  The lady in emerald, maintaining her calm, raised her hand gently.

  "Then I’ll go next."

  She unfolded her cards—a four of clubs and a jack of clubs.

  "Club flush," the man in red said aloud. "Not bad. First real contender for the win."

  "Haven’t had such a tense game in a while," she replied with a smile.

  "A truly strong hand," said the irritated man, nodding with feigned respect. "But, as expected… the victory is mine."

  He dramatically flipped his cards: queen of diamonds and five of hearts.

  "Full house!" he proclaimed proudly. "Well, I must admit—you all did your best. But, as I said, the win is mine. I was just playing the part of an amateur. In reality—"

  "Oh, spare us, please," the woman in black interrupted with mock weariness in her voice. "Only luck saved you. If it weren’t for the five of clubs, you'd be stuck with just a set of queens—and that’s it. Besides…" She turned her gaze to Alex, "we still have one more player."

  "Him?" the man grimaced. "Don’t make me laugh. Young, overconfident, inexperienced. He’s got a lot to learn before sitting at a table with me."

  He looked over at Alex.

  "Well then, kid. Show your cards. Prove me right."

  All eyes turned to Alex.

  Alex didn’t rush. His fingers softly touched the corners of the cards still lying face-down on the table. Then—one smooth motion of the hand—and revealed to all were the queen of spades and the eight of diamonds.

  "Full house," Alex said calmly. "And higher than yours. So the victory is mine," he added with the faintest trace of superiority.

  The irritated man jolted as if he’d been slapped. He jumped up from his seat, his eyes still locked on Alex’s cards.

  "I don’t believe it! Impossible! This is absurd!" he shouted. "You cheated! That’s it! This is a scam!"

  His outburst was cut short by the dealer, whose voice remained composed:

  "That’s impossible here. The procedure was followed. No violations occurred."

  The woman in black burst into laughter, tossing her arm dramatically onto Alex’s shoulder.

  "A worthy game, young mister in a suit," she said with delight. "No wonder you caught my eye from the start. Tell me, what tricks did you use to beat four professionals and one… well, let’s say amateur?"

  Alex looked at her and smiled.

  "No tricks. Just cold calculation and one simple rule that has always helped me."

  "A rule?" the lady inquired with interest. "And what might that be?"

  "Only the one who’s not afraid to lose can truly enjoy the game."

  The dark-haired lady smiled softly, removing her hand from his shoulder.

  "I’ll remember that."

  Suddenly, the man in red spoke, now standing beside Alex.

  "Thank you for the game." He extended his hand.

  Alex stood up, shook it, and replied politely:

  "It was a pleasure playing with you."

  The man bowed to the other ladies and disappeared into the crowd.

  Alex turned to the irritated man, who was still standing, mouth agape and eyes wide with shock. Alex held out his hand.

  "Thank you for the game."

  His tone was calm, sincere, and without a hint of mockery. The man scowled bitterly, but after a brief pause, shook the hand. Yet before letting go, he leaned in toward Alex and whispered:

  "You’ll regret this win."

  Then he let go and vanished into the crowd.

  "Gladly believe it," Alex replied just as quietly, with a faint smile.

  The dealer girl was already standing beside Alex with a pouch of coins. Leaning slightly, she handed it to him.

  "Congratulations on your win."

  "Thank you," Alex replied politely, accepting the prize.

  Her face showed no emotion—only a short nod and flawless posture.

  Alex glanced at the three ladies at the table.

  "Thank you all for the game," he said, giving a slight bow.

  "It’s us who should be thanking you," the lady in yellow replied. "You made the game truly exciting."

  "Would you care to join us for another round?" asked the lady in emerald, calmly, though there was a spark in her eyes.

  "I would be delighted to keep such elegant ladies company," Alex answered courteously. "But, unfortunately, I must take my leave."

  "A pity..." sighed the lady in black. "But if you change your mind—you know where to find us."

  Alex bowed once more and walked off into the crowd, searching for Elizabeth and Rogan.

  The women began chatting among themselves, but the lady in black glanced back, watching Alex disappear into the crowd.

  “What an intriguing young man...” she thought.