Neville’s palms were dry, and he peered around the table.

None of them knew what Lilianna was doing. Nobody looked like they even suspected a thing.

Bryan was shaking his head with a rueful grin, drumming his fingers against the green felt.

Sarah had both palms flat on the table, leaning forward.

Ciel’s lips were parted, his boyish face flushed pink from the cocktail he had been drinking.

Julius sat perfectly still, arms crossed, vein ticking at his temple.

Grayson, though. Neville’s gaze lifted to his back. He was watching Lilianna.

Not the cards.

Not the table.

But at Lilianna.

His grip on the back of his chair was so tight, Neville heard it creak. That was how he knew that even if Grayson hadn’t seen it, he must’ve sensed something wrong.

Sensing Neville’s gaze, Grayson turned to look at Neville. His gaze was unreadable to many, but there was a hint of restrained anger deep inside it.

Don’t look at me, Neville thought, look at her. She’s the one doing it.

Grayson took a deep breath, calming himself down.

"Dealer draws," Lilianna announced.

She set it face-up.

The room held its breath.

As Neville suspected, another ace appeared.

The crowd around the table erupted.

"No way!" Sarah shrieked, slamming the table so hard that Ciel’s chip tower wobbled. "That’s sixteen! A sixteen!"

"Bust! Bust! Bust!" Ciel chanted, slapping the felt with both hands in rhythm.

Even Julius uncrossed his arms, a rare crack of anticipation breaking through his stoic mask.

Thiago let out a low whistle. "It’s cooked. Absolutely cooked."

Then, from the sofa, Iris asked quietly, "Wait—can the dealer even get that many cards?"

Nobody answered her immediately.

"There’s a six-card rule," Chronos murmured to explain to Iris. "If the dealer reaches six cards without busting—"

"I know that the six-card could exist, but," Pete cut in unconsciously in disbelief, even though he wasn’t playing. "I’ve just never actually seen it in real life."

Seemingly heard it, Bryan asked everyone, "Should we abide by the six-hand rule?"

Everyone at the table was stunned into place. They actually forgot about this rule.

But then, Ciel immediately recovered and said, "Who cares about six-hands or ten-hands. Just let the dealer stand on seventeen!"

Julius nodded in agreement.

Sarah, somewhat deflated after remembering the six-hand rule, said, "Why do we even have to suffer like this?"

Bryan said, tilting his head toward Lilianna’s, "Asked the dealer?"

Neville’s eyes glinted for a second and turned to Bryan. But then, when he saw Bryan, he knew that he was completely clueless about it, just like everyone else.

Lilianna just smiled, unfazed as she replied. "The deck decides, not me."

This conversation was enough to somewhat clear everyone’s heads.

Ciel’s earlier arrogance had evaporated. He sat forward, both hands gripping the edge of the table.

Now that I’m looking at it, this was a sixteen. Four to eight numbers were pretty common. Five was one of them.

Ciel started to pray, please, please, please, not five.

Sarah had also stopped smiling. She, too, had realized that there was a high chance that the dealer would get a five.

She didn’t need to say it and bore the brunt of everyone’s anger. So she kept her mouth shut.

Grayson noticed Neville’s hands were clasped loosely in his lap, hidden below the table’s edge.

Grayson leaned sideways, close enough that only Neville could hear. "Don’t beat yourself up. It’s her choice."

Neville shook his head. "I just can’t help myself."

Grayson stared at him for half a second longer, then settled back without pressing any further.

Neville appreciated that.

Then, Lilianna’s hand hovered over the deck. She wore a half-smile.

’Perfect,’ Lilianna’s inner voice murmured. ’One more draw. Let’s see what they do.’

She drew.

The card landed face-up.

It was five of hearts.

The silence lasted exactly one point three seconds.

Then the table erupted into shouts.

"WHAT?!" Sarah’s voice was so high that it could probably shatter a glass.

She shot to her feet, chair scraping against the hardwood so violently that it nearly toppled.

"Seven-hand blackjack," Julius said flatly, blankly staring at the spread of cards as they had personally insulted his ancestors.

"Seven. Hand. Blackjack." Ciel repeated each word with his voice climbing with each one. He grabbed Thiago’s arm. "Thiago. Thiago. Did you see that?"

"I saw it." Thiago patted his cousin’s hand with weary patience. "I saw it."

Bryan dropped his forehead to the table and groaned, contemplating life.

Neville lowered his head.

To everyone else, it looked like he was devastated, just like everyone else. His shoulders even slumped at the right angle.

In reality, his blood was boiling.

It was one thing to hustle a stranger. It was another thing entirely to dupe your own friends—people you had known for years, people who trusted you enough to sit at your table and bet real money with genuine grins on their faces.

Ciel was practically family. Sarah was even her own sister. Bryan and Julius had served in the military alongside her.

And Lilianna had had no flicker of remorse for cheating her own friends just to keep his losing streak.

No, Neville slightly shook his head, thinking. That was not just about maintaining the losing streak of her target.

She also probably wanted to make a point that he, Neville, was not the only one who could pull an impossible play.

That smile, Neville lifted his head and watched Lilianna shake her head with a rueful little "Wow, can you believe that?" expression.

It made him want to punch her.

Like, really wanted to punch her.

But he still wanted to see how low Lilianna would stoop just to prove her point.

Lilianna’s inner voice purred with satisfaction.

’See? They don’t suspect a thing. Push the next round harder. Bleed them dry.’

Lilianna’s smile didn’t waver. Her fingers found the deck again, shuffling as requested.

As she shuffled the cards, the unreasonable blame game started.

"Bryan." Sarah rounded on him first, pointing an accusatory finger. "You. You took the six."

Bryan lifted his head from the table, indignant. "What?"

"You had fourteen! Fourteen!"