Chapter 53: Crossing the Line

The door slammed open, and the burly man inside, hands on his hips, glared at Enio. “This isn’t a playground. Your constant comings and goings will attract unwanted trouble. You understand me?”

In the Federation, casinos require special operating licenses to operate, so most such casinos are illegal.

Due to its unique geography and environment, Jin Gang City attracts sailors and travelers from around the world, so the provincial government granted Jin Gang City special permission to operate casinos.

But the condition is that all paperwork and special operating licenses must be in order.

Legal casinos pay high taxes; the Koda family’s legal casino in Jin Gang City must hand over eighty-three percent of its revenue to the three levels of government.

That is, the local, provincial, and federal governments.

For the Koda family, their net profit is only about nine percent.

But even nine percent brings them unimaginable wealth; if any family in Jin Gang City is the most “clean,” the Koda family is likely one of them.

They do not run other criminal businesses—smuggling, kidnapping, extortion, protection rackets—they’re not entirely above it, but they rarely do it unless absolutely necessary.

Because casino profits satisfy their hunger for wealth, compared to other families whose every pore drips with black blood, they’re like missionaries in their mercy!

Precisely because casinos yield massive profits, the Koda family treats illegal casinos more harshly and terrifyingly than the government itself.

To ensure their dominant position in Jin Gang City’s gambling industry, any illegal casino they discover has only two options.

Either they assign someone to manage the books, and seventy percent of all income must be handed over to the Koda family as a “license fee” to continue operating.

Or they reclaim a large sum of money and then expel the operator from Jin Gang City, forbidding return.

These are the two choices they offer—but there is a third path.

Conflict, gunfight, and then, amid cries of miracle, the surface of Angel Lake rises again—damn it!

Neither option is what small-time casinos want; to avoid risk, they relocate periodically and screen out certain patrons.

Enio pulled out a cigarette from his pocket—given to him by Lans—and offered it over. “I went out to buy some smokes.”

The burly man stared at the cigarette, then at Enio, and finally stepped aside just enough to let him pass. “Don’t make this hard for me.”

Enio muttered thanks and returned to the casino.

The Gambler had already returned to the table, waving cash as he placed bets on the blackjack table.

People liked this gambling game, perhaps because it seemed… fair—at least fairer than the others.

The Gambler was lucky; he’d already won twelve dollars upon entering, and it looked like he’d recovered his losses.

Enio didn’t care much; even if he wanted to repay early, the interest still had to be paid.

The noisy environment, the smell of smoke, sweat, bad breath, and foot odor wove a cage of desire beneath the floor, trapping everyone here!

By nightfall, they’d closed four deals and earned fourteen dollars.

Not everyone wanted to borrow a hundred dollars; many borrowed only thirty or fifty, so their commissions were relatively small.

Yet even fourteen dollars kept these young men buzzing with excitement!

They’d merely stood around for a while, watched someone lose all their money, and asked if they wanted to borrow—no real effort on their part!

Money was so easy to make—that was their only thought now.

Of course, Mo Lisi didn’t feel it as strongly; after all, his mother could earn three dollars in just ten minutes—this damn joke.

After dark, casino business improved slightly, but Enio and his companions left; the company was done for the day, and Lans had gone home.

Today’s deals convinced Lans to rent a nearby apartment and open a “branch office.”

Something cheap—two or three dollars a month—since it wasn’t for comfort, only for profit.

After closing, several dealers sat together chatting. “You hear? The Gambler lost over a hundred today.”

The blackjack dealer burst into laughter, sharing his good fortune; they were skilled professionals who, to ensure the house always won, always placed three ten-point cards at the bottom of the deck during every shuffle.

This let them control who busted and who didn’t, anytime they wanted.

If someone studied it closely, they’d notice that most bets placed on the “buy” side tended to bust.

To guarantee victory in high-stakes rounds, they always ensured the top card of the deck was an A1.

In blackjack, “A” can count as one or eleven.

Draw the top and bottom cards, and the dealer wins everything.

But most gamblers focused only on the current hand, unable to tell if the dealer was cheating.

Hearing this, the others murmured in amazement; losing over a hundred in a small underground casino was rare.

More often, people lost five or ten dollars; since it was an underground joint, even those wanting to gamble big were forbidden.

Each table had a maximum bet of ten dollars—capped to protect the casino and prevent gamblers from going broke and causing trouble.

“Where did he get that much money?” the casino owner asked, gnawing on a beef bone.

He knew most people here; he recognized the Gambler, who usually came, lost a few dollars, and left.

Losing over a hundred all at once? He found it hard to believe.

The dealer shook his head. “Dunno. He went out, came back with cash.”

Other dealers suddenly remembered. “I’ve seen the same—someone lost everything, went out, came back with money.”

The casino owner dropped his bone, wiped his mouth. “Find someone you know and ask. This needs clearing up.”

If someone turned to crime to raise gambling money, the victim would be him—and his casino.

Police loved raiding illegal casinos; they could seize all cash on-site and extort a hefty sum from the operators!

To reduce their sentencing, most casino operators cooperated with police extortion.

These abnormal behaviors had put the casino owner on alert.

Soon, they brought one of the men in.

“How much did you lose today?”

Since they were all Empire citizens, and though the owner won their money daily, he wasn’t cruel—he was often easygoing and approachable, so they weren’t afraid of him.

The Gambler sneered. “Lost thirty-seven dollars!”

The owner wanted to laugh but held back; after stripping away negligible operating costs, dealer shares, enforcer wages, and daily expenses, his net profit was about twenty-five dollars.

One fool gave him twenty-five dollars in a day—he couldn’t imagine how much the Koda family earned daily!

No wonder some called them cash cows, no wonder they were so close to the politicians!

“Pity. Your luck’s bad today. If your luck’s this terrible, why bet so much?”

“I recall your payday’s still half a month away. You didn’t steal to get cash for my tables, did you?”

The owner stared at him. “You know I hate when outside trouble comes into my casino.”

Several enforcers stood up. Even without moving, their bulk was intimidating—now, with eyes wide and glaring, they were terrifying.

The Gambler quickly confessed. “I borrowed thirty-five dollars.”

The owner turned to the others. “I didn’t authorize any loans today?”

His voice carried icy fury—he suspected someone was scheming. Such things were casino taboos.

He forbade large loans; too much borrowing meant gamblers lost too much and caused trouble—and trouble meant trouble for him.

Any problem would drag him down.

The man handling loans looked baffled. “I didn’t issue any cash today.”

Other dealers shook their heads. The enforcers? Impossible.

The owner fixed his gaze on the Gambler. “Explain clearly. You know my rules.”

Since it had nothing to do with him, the Gambler had no reason to hide it. “Mo Lisi and a few young men lent it to me. Low interest, flexible repayment…”

The owner looked at the burly man at the door. The man touched his pocket, then nodded. “He said he brought some friends to see the sights.”

The casino owner’s face softened with a smile. He gathered uneaten beef bones onto a plate and handed them to the Gambler. “Run this home for the kids.”

The Gambler was stunned, thanking profusely. “Your generosity warms the heart like the sun…”

“Ha! Nice words—but I won’t return your losses!”

The Gambler’s tone shifted instantly, teeth clenched. “If they hadn’t forced me to borrow, I wouldn’t have lost so much!”

After sending off the chattering Gambler, the owner picked up a steel pick to clean his teeth, expression unreadable. “Someone crossed the line…”

1: Long hours cause dealer fatigue and increased hand sweat, making control of multiple top cards difficult—but one card is easy to control, so dealers typically manipulate only the top card and multiple bottom cards.