Embedded Files
Psst! We're moving!
Side Story 1: Golden Triangle
An appropriate temperature is quite important for maintaining mental health. Humans go mad when it’s cold and completely lose it when it’s hot.
Humans living in St. Petersburg and those in California can be seen as examples of this. The former suffers from alcoholism by guzzling vodka, while the latter, due to excessive sunlight, falls into a unrealistically manic state, don’t they? It was only after coming to Las Vegas that I started thinking being cold might be better.
The heat of pleasure, like the temperature that soared to 38 degrees Celsius, refused to die down even at night. The entire city urged people to revel in the miracle of the desert. The scent of marijuana filled every street corner, and casino hotels flaunted their capital, spewing neon lights, fire, and fountains.
Until midnight, people, drunk on alcohol, rode high rollers and ziplines, screaming, while some lost their souls to half-naked strippers.
The gamblers enjoying the casinos had long been intoxicated to the point of insensibility by pleasure. The rules had lost their fairness due to the manipulations of the merchants, yet each person deluded themselves into thinking they were the exception. Everyone had long been madly addicted to the thrill of uncertain fortune.
Amidst the bustling city on a weekend, the casino bar ‘Grape’ behind the Link Hotel was relatively quiet. It was old and dirty, and moreover, it was a thoroughfare for the mole people living in the underground tunnels. Still, it had a considerable cult following. Places out of the public eye were perfect for thugs, drug addicts, and perverts looking for a wild time.
“Blackjack.”
A man in a baseball cap approached an empty table and sat down. The dealer adjusted his bowtie and, pretending to look up, scanned the abruptly arriving customer.
The best clues to understand a person were their attire, appearance, and expression. Most of the time, their identity and tendencies were obvious on the surface. A naive young master, a rapper who struck it rich, a businessman, a desperate soul struggling with petty cash, and so on. A casino dealer would become far more skilled at discerning such things than at understanding game rules.
“Uh...”
But his quick scanning ability was unusually ineffective today. The dealer had no idea what type of customer was sitting in front of him.
At a glance, with his perfect nose and sleek jawline, he looked like an actor, model, or an influencer with a decent following. However, the gleam in his eyes emanating from the shadow of his cap brim was so chilling that he seemed more akin to someone from the underworld. Yet, to consider him as such... his dignified posture and actions made it difficult to be certain.
“Aren’t you going to start?”
The man tilted his head as the dealer stared too blatantly to be polite.
“Ah, I apologize. You’re just so handsome. I’ll explain the rules of blackjack.”
While the dealer recited the rules formally, the man took off his cap and ran a hand through his black hair. The dealer felt a slight confusion looking at his face. His black hair and eye shape seemed Asian, but the arrangement of his three-dimensional features and his physique were the exact opposite. The dealer found himself unconsciously drawn to the man’s mysterious aura, whose nationality he couldn’t pinpoint.
“Are there many people in the VIP room right now?”
The man placed his chips, received his cards, and asked casually.
“No. Not many.”
“Why? It’s the weekend.”
“It’s always like this here. Weekends or weekdays, it’s consistently the same.”
“Consistent means people keep coming. Do you have many regulars?”
“Yes. Actually, it has a long history. I heard it’s at least 100 years old. Although the main branch has been closed.”
The old Grape bar was a respectable establishment with a tradition of its own. The dealer, for once, put on a confident expression and checked his and his opponent’s cards.
“Seven of Hearts and Queen, a total of 17 points. Do you want another card?”
“Hmm. So it started during Prohibition.”
The man waved his hand across the table. It meant he didn’t want any more cards. The dealer nodded and showed his card. It was an Ace.
“I’ll choose 1 and take another card. The founder operated a saloon and then switched to the juice business.”
“That was smart. Grape brick juice was popular during Prohibition, wasn’t it? After giving up the wine business, he converted to a casino. The founder was truly resourceful.”
“He had great foresight. Oh, my cards total 23. You win.”
Despite winning, the man didn’t seem particularly happy. He received his chips with a subtle smile.
“Would you like to play more?”
“Rather than playing, I’d really like to see the founder’s face.”
“Unfortunately, he passed away long ago...”
The dealer was slightly dumbfounded. Prohibition began in 1910. Even if a baby born in that era immediately founded the business, they couldn’t possibly be alive now. No matter how much medical technology improved, life expectancy was limited to 100 years, and anything beyond that would be news.
“He’s not dead, that person.”
“Huh?”
As the dealer, looking almost naive, blinked while tidying the cards, a woman wearing strong perfume approached the table. She saw the man’s appearance and her lips curved into a wide smile.
“Saturday night and you’re alone?”
The man felt her fervent gaze directed at him and turned his head.
“Yes. Just thought I’d play a game.”
“What game?”
“Blackjack.”
“Can I watch?”
Without waiting for an answer, the woman sat in a chair. The man turned his head curtly and gestured to the dealer to deal the cards.
“You’re quite popular.”
The dealer smiled as he dealt the cards. The man nodded indifferently.
“Yes. Well, I suppose so.”
“You seem used to getting attention?”
The woman asked, giving him a meaningful look.
“Especially so in Las Vegas.”
The man was quite annoyed today. As he walked down the street, naked strippers would laugh and hug him, and several women would openly talk to him and follow him. The most bothersome was a drunk woman who openly clung to him, wanting to go to a hotel. She might have even been on drugs. He was getting tired of being treated like a walking dildo.
“Instead of playing, why don’t you have a drink with me after the game? I’m never boring.”
The woman lowered her voice, seducing him more openly. The man slightly frowned and looked at her.
“Besides, I have a big mouth.”
It was clearly full of sexual innuendo. As the seduction intensified, the dealer let out a small, envious puff of air. The man chuckled.
“Oh dear. I prefer small mouths.”
“...Hmm? Small mouths? How small?”
“Well... To the point where you can’t swallow a whole pudding at once?”
“That’s specific. Sounds like an experience.”
“Not yet. I was just imagining the feeling while watching someone eat pudding.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed sharply.
“You have a lover?”
“I do.”
“But does your lover know? That you’re quite a pervert.”
“I try to hide it if possible. Because I’m disgustingly perverted. Sometimes, to the point where I want to drink every last drop of blood.”
The atmosphere at the table grew slightly heavy. The woman didn’t hide her displeasure and frowned.
“Is that a concept? Your appearance does look vampire-like. But still, don’t overdo it. Those jokes are creepy.”
“I’m merely admitting that I’m a pervert in front of a stranger. Sometimes I desire my lover so intensely that I want to devour them.”
The man smiled with a languid expression. He continued speaking, disregarding the slightly rigid demeanor of the dealer and the woman.
“Yet, when I drink blood frantically, I do feel satisfied.”
“Not blood, drugs, right!”
“I’m always on drugs.”
“Handsome ones really... are never normal. Does your lover know you’re abnormal?”
“Actually, she’s probably noticed, but she doesn’t seem to think it’s a big deal. She’s cute.”
The woman decided it was futile to have a fun night and gathered her bag to leave.
“What’s your name? I’d like to know and avoid psychos like you in advance.”
“Kwon Doyoon.”
As soon as she heard the name, she cursed and left the casino bar.
“How many?”
Doyoon, who had been calmly watching her leave, asked the dealer.
“Huh?”
The dealer foolishly repeated the question.
“You just pressed the button under the table. How many people are coming to get me? Oh, are they waiting in the VIP room? But I brought some friends too.”
Doyoon slowly stood up. At his signal, about a dozen burly men instantly swarmed in like shadows. The startled dealer swallowed hard. What on earth were these people? He hadn’t heard the door open, so when did they...?
Even though the opponent’s numbers weren’t that great and they didn’t even hold weapons, the dealer sensed danger. The fervent devotion, akin to what one might feel from cult followers, especially instilled fear. He glanced sideways and saw the dumbfounded face of his colleague, whose mouth was also agape.
“I’ll give you 10 seconds.”
Doyoon held up three fingers and gestured towards the exit with his chin. It meant he was giving them a chance to escape. The dealer utilized the street smarts he had acquired from seeing all sorts of things in casinos.
He was sure the CCTV cameras had gone out at some point and gained the additional clue that reporting to the police would be useless. In 10 seconds, his chances of survival would be lower than in a mass shooting. Just before the countdown ended, the dealer and his colleagues scurried out.
Having primarily dealt with the situation without wasting bullets, Doyoon took out a silenced hunter gun and headed towards the VIP room. Soon after, the smell of marijuana that had permeated the casino was replaced by the coppery scent of blood.
Google Sites
Report abuse