Beating each other up, then getting hit back.
Sometimes you win big and cleanly, but then you mess up and lose painfully.
During the past few hours—crazy, when did the time pass like this?—anyway, while experiencing all sorts of intense battles, I learned something, though it wasn’t anything special.
Namely, completing a strong hand in poker is a matter of luck, but ultimately, the winner is decided by the player’s skill. While this offline Community Poker might indeed fit under the “rely-on-luck” category, it’s also a game where skill plays a significant role.
…Well, up to this point, there’s not much difference from what I learned when I chickened out and lost even though I had a stronger hand in the first game earlier. It could just be an issue of judgment and gamer sense.
“Raise. I’ll raise it to 7 million.”
“…Impressive calm. You seem quite accustomed to handling large sums.”
“Since I’m already in this game, my intention is simply to see it through to the end.”
Drurrr…!
The real problem is the man with a fierce presence brimming with ample ammunition—this would be Mr. John.
Look, with his 7 and 5 two pairs, he’s continuously raking in the 10 million pots. If I had arrived ready to play with a pile of chips from the beginning, his streak might’ve made me think I was being conned. He’s playing with an unusual level of confidence.
Somehow managing to win each time with a slightly better hand—even just half a step ahead—how much skill and luck does it take to pull off such an artistry?
No, really.
Come on, even with the flow going well, shouldn’t this streak of wins stop somewhere? I haven’t been able to win like this in a row…
After a single win, my total chip count has steadily increased, but frankly, if we only count the rounds, I’ve lost more smaller hands.
“…It’s interesting to see the two of them getting flustered, but I’m getting the urge to break their winning streak.”
– …… –
Already the fourth or fifth round? Anyway, our losing streak continues.
And in competitive games, when someone goes on a winning streak, it usually signifies that someone has been on a losing streak.
Furthermore, crushing someone by capital advantage alone requires a winning probability that’s at least 40-50%. With the current momentum and an increasing stack reaching 80 million, it feels like we’d need 100-200 million just to stand a chance at tearing it down.
Meanwhile, among the players, who seriously maintain their composure, I’m starting to feel a small itch to get in on the action.
A regular person—well, most people—would’ve walked away after reaching this level of profit. Yet, this guy continues to stay for “bigger profits.” What kind of nerves does this guy have?
At the same time, it’s irritatingly hard to call him a mere gambling addict because his gameplay remains pretty rational. Truly a case that grinds against the nerves.
“Hiss.”
Once in a while, I silently wish with all my heart that he would just falter.
Reviewing everything so far, I nearly lost only because of really bad hands. Mostly, my losses came from poor psychological tactics and misreading situations or, at the last moment, being blindsided by community cards.
——Hoo! If someone feels inclined to argue something along the lines of “Didn’t you lose because you handled it lazily instead of being tricked?”, I openly invite that person to stand before me. I will gladly smash them into pieces—with this damn poker game—right now!
“Ahem! Is there any player wishing for a break? …If not, we’ll proceed to the next round immediately.”
“Yeah.”
“Khuhem, ahem!”
With a dry throat, orders are given, and the staff swiftly bring bottles.
Apparently, the increasing consumption of drinks due to parched throats hasn’t slowed down the gambling process. No objections to that.
The cards, which will decide the fate of this game, are shuffled again and quietly land before their respective owners.
Oh, before even opening my hand, I should give this one pre-request.
“Please glance and monitor if the uncle over there is up to anything suspicious.”
– Are you considering foul play? –
“Hmm…”
Even though my reply was vague, it’s still just a precaution. There’s no harm in being cautious, right?
If this strong sense of “luck” I feel is real and not purely an illusion—an intangible and supernatural power—wouldn’t it be reasonable to assume there’s something extraordinary allowing him to overcome it? Note: This argument is purely logical and not out of frustration from consecutive losses.
So, this seems like an excellent opportunity to test that hypothesis with this premium hand in this moment.
“Ace… and a king.”
The AK hand that felt so unbearably unlucky in someone else’s hands now feels oddly pleasant in mine.
Even better, I get the first turn to bet in the preflop, allowing me to take significant early action and strategize based on others’ responses in the subsequent rounds.
An old legend of legendary gamblers said this: without risking your life, it’s hard to feel the true flow of things. While risking lives might seem extreme, it typically represents a sum too precious to lose.
“Ms. Anastasia, you should state your bet amount…”
Clink-clack!
The dealer’s kind reminder was immediately cut off as three black chips in quick succession landed into the box.
No one dared complain, knowing this is not a pointless delay—there was a clear and valid reason: I’m considering betting 30 million in one shot.
“…Call.”
“Hmm… I’ll call too.”
“Ah, maybe at this point, we should bet this much. Take it.”
“There! Someone is determined to see this through, aren’t we? I’ll also call!”
Surely, these individuals are equally insane. Look at their grins, free of worry or anxiety. Instead, they are riding the thrill of the game.
Still, I’m grateful that this round has been acknowledged collectively as the climax of our games.
In this 1.5 billion-credit situation, if there’s a surefire move or tactic, who wouldn’t use it? You might regret it for life if you let this opportunity slip by.
I intend to participate fully, seeking victory, while also being ready to stop the moment something feels off. That’s my plan.
“The flop community cards are open.”
——Clack!
This is the tense moment.
Despite having a strong starting hand, if low pairs or triples suddenly show up, the situation could change drastically. Even if I have a powerful kicker card ready, the opponent might complete an overwhelming hand.
So, I just need something strong enough for now… Just a little more!
– …Queen of Hearts, King of Spades, Ace of Clubs. You have an Ace-high Two Pair. Also, Mr. John’s glances are quite scattered. Though calm in demeanor, his eyes occasionally check each player’s face. –
“Yes! Nice!”
I kept my delight internal, lightly biting my tongue to suppress an excited smile.
What? If someone asks why I feel safe with just a Two Pair after countless insane ties like Flush or Full House draws, the answer is simple: you can complain too.
This Hold’em game is essentially a probability contest built on many rounds. Most of them usually ended between One Pair or Two Pair showdowns.
Unless the Turn and River cards pose a high Straight risk, having an Ace-high Two Pair is incredibly strong. Pushing all-in right now could be a viable strategy.
Alright. If someone makes the first big move, I’ll wait to counter and capture them.
Forget this ability-testing nonsense. I’ll figure out that comment once I’ve claimed that pile of chips. At least with a fatter wallet, insults won’t sting as much afterwards. Fair enough, right?
“…”
“…!”
Ha! There’s an added element of amusement for me here, separate from my personal enjoyment.
Even though our tones have been keeping hidden psychological states subtle, this momentary silence shows all players are equally under pressure. It’s a fun insight.
Under the mounting pile and added pride, this can’t possibly remain a casual hobby anymore. It feels like more serious business.
Alright, we’re finally at a balanced competition. Crossing this psychological threshold makes it more thrilling, doesn’t it? Play comfortably, everyone.
“…Ch.”
Clack, clack.
The quiet sounds of chips colliding and plastic scraping against the table persisted until suddenly, black chips began to fall into the box one by one.
Each player added a single black chip—10 million credits. The pot swelled to 200 million, which, barring a disaster, has now become an unstoppable natural calamity. And with the revelation of the fourth community card, turn card, any lingering hopes of a tie gradually dissipated.
“…Jack of Diamonds.”
Despite our dealer’s thorough shuffling, the suits on the community cards differed enough to preclude a flush in the final stages. The Jack pair was usable by everyone, but whether this was beneficial or detrimental to me remains to be seen; no need to calculate the exact probability from Zero.
If I’m already aboard this runaway train, regardless of how dire the destination might be, I need to stick around until it stops. After all, isn’t that what I want?
Thud, thud, tak!
Amidst the oppressive silence, five more black chips were added. It was quite a sight to see about half the chips on the table gathered into a box. This truly showcased the winner-takes-all nature of gambling.
“…The River. I’ll open it.”
A mix of impatience for a quick end and anxiety hoping for an unresolved outcome coexisted as the final variable was revealed. Although, once revealed, it’s no longer a variable, is it?
– Ms. Ahsa’s hand, King of Hearts and Ace of Hearts, with the final community cards Queen of Hearts, King of Spades, Ace of Clubs, Jack of Diamonds, King of Diamonds, completes a King High Full House. …Additionally, other players might have noticed your slight trembling around the corners of your mouth and eyes. –
“…Ahem!”
I almost yelled, “See all the expressions you want!” but remembered there was one more betting stage left and immediately switched to ‘Hell’s Endure Smile’ mode.
This erases any potential risk from someone with Q, 10 trying a Straight counter. Beyond that, the whispering of excitement in my thumping heart, my long-standing intuition has been roaring that this is the strongest hand against anyone at this table.
In fact, ever since the initial moment I decided to experiment with several hypotheses:
“Does real luck always work?” That’s an almost impossible question to test. Or perhaps the concept of a fixed fuel tank where we extract goods logically. Or maybe questioning the whole thing is just a mistake?
However, the surge and conviction running through my head from scalp to chest just now wasn’t trivial.
Even here, while engaging in some silly poker game, it hit me. The reason I’ve survived so many crises and tough choices while traveling so far—it’s this kind of intuition.
My overly sensitive body that somehow remained bearable to touch due to physical sensations? It was an instinctive guidance to choose the right path when everything was ready, a whip to motivate my stiff movements.
That’s why this ability is named Luck—a natural correction towards good event outcomes in games, and it boosts the probability of dealing critical strikes—man… that’s scary.
Perhaps the slot machine I played with initially might’ve been old and required some part inspections.
“But… can even the best scientists at Enema really scientifically implement and integrate something like this into a person?”
I shook my head left to right after musing too deeply.
…For what? After all, if I’m living proof of dimensional teleportation, why stress over irrelevant details when I should instead enjoy the feast before me? That’s something to ponder after a hearty shower at home.
“All in…!!”
“!!”
The sudden gasps primarily came from the two on the right.
500,000, 1 million… Anyway, as the others were slowly probing with small raises, I flung my remaining chips onto the box and brushed my hands theatrically.
Alright, who among us said that I’d die if I chickened out back then? It’s a bit late, but here’s your chance for payback.
Who wouldn’t be in a foul mood after having their funds emptied so deeply into the night? I understand and acknowledge that!
…Therefore, I’ll politely rise and cash out now, thank you.
“…Hmm. If I can lure this person in, your winning isn’t so bad, either.”
“Ah~♪ But I’m already satisfied just by seeing the expressions of these two?”
With a whooshing sound, one of the players folded, disregarding the proper betting order. The hands were carelessly laid down, defying playing rules or game etiquette.
Rules are only useful when there are people enforcing them.
The undivided attention was now solely on John, the only player still holding onto his hand—a situation where nitpicking on procedural details is irrelevant.
What’s important is… whether to face this round against my aggressive confidence or cut losses by retreating.
“……All in.”
Whoosh!
Possessing slightly fewer chips than me, John likewise shoved all his chips forward with both hands in a definitive sweep.
It wasn’t as if either of us crossed some river; rather, we’re standing tethered in the middle of a rushing stream, awaiting the referee. …Ah, this is why the next phase after the River is Showdown (final reveal).
…Though thrilling and romantic, something unsettling arises as I stare into John’s emotionless eyes.
“…Are there still any suspicious points?”
– If you’re accusing him merely for improper glances, we can subdue him immediately. –
“…What?”
I rolled my eyes at this idiotic suggestion and turned away. Had I had any concrete evidence, of course, I would’ve acted on it. But relying solely on suspicion and acting rashly could bring a shame I couldn’t bear once the security guards intervene.
“Player Anastasia has a King High Full House. Player John then…”
Even before the King’s Full House was laid down, why am I already doubting the logic behind this showdown between two such skilled gamblers?
It’s because… while I haven’t reversed my betting decision, an irrational chill is creeping up on me, just before his cards are revealed?
Could it be cheating? How else could this inexplicable disruption of my senses occur?
Thud! The raised hand traced an elegant curve before slapping down two cards onto the table.
“…Player John, with a Spade Jack and Clover Jack hand, completes Jacks Four of a Kind. Congratulations on your victory.”
“Oh.”
“…Phew!”
What? Why? How? Actually, I’ve lost everything?
All sorts of unfiltered questions swirled in my mind, but all that came out was a short sigh.
Losing after a surprise attack I didn’t anticipate.
Something feels incredibly off. Sure, it’s possible he kept a Pair of Jacks since the very beginning, cautiously following my aggressive betting, but his reaction post-victory doesn’t seem right.
John’s Four of a Kind was completed at the turn stage. So, shouldn’t he feel bewildered or overjoyed at winning 400 million?
If he felt relieved, wouldn’t he have contained that emotion then, when the Full House was completed? Why is he wiping sweat only after the game ended?
…Is it because something he was hiding went unnoticed?
“…”
Realizing this, even in this dramatic life-reversal moment, I remain extremely rational.
Looking at John’s eerily calm eyes, which have remained detached throughout, I belatedly recalled a possibility I had ignorantly dismissed.
Even if common cyberware assistance is openly permitted, you’ve gotta be kidding me—did you come to play poker with bionic eyes?!
