The Anomaly's Path-Chapter 60: The Gambling King

The Gambling King.

I stared at the man across the table, trying to figure out if that title was supposed to be impressive or just sad. With a name like that, you’d expect someone in a fancy coat with gold rings on every finger, maybe a crown perched on his head like he was royalty of some forgotten kingdom.

Instead, I was looking at a man who looked like he’d spent more time chopping wood than touching cards, his calloused hands wrapped around a deck that was probably worth more than everything I was wearing.

"The Gambling King?" I kept my voice low, not wanting to sound like I was mocking him—at least, not yet. "That’s actually a title people call him?"

Roran’s eyes were still fixed on Drakus like the man might disappear if he blinked too hard. His earlier excitement had drained away completely, replaced by something that looked a lot like fear.

"He’s the one who set up the games here. Years ago. No one knows where he came from or why he stays. He just showed up one day and started running things, and no one thought to question it."

"And people call him that because he’s good?"

Roran’s voice dropped so low I almost missed it. "That’s the thing. No one actually knows if he’s good or not. He barely plays. But when he does..." He trailed off, shaking his head slowly. "People walk away from his table with empty pockets and no idea how it happened. Like their money just decided to leave them."

I looked back at Drakus, who was still sitting there with that calm, patient smile, his eyes moving between us like we were children whispering secrets at the grown-ups’ table. He didn’t look like a master gambler. He didn’t look like anything.

"How much do we have?" I asked Roran without taking my eyes off him.

He glanced at the pile of coins in front of us and did a quick count that looked more like he was guessing. "...A lot."

"Enough to lose a hand?"

"More than enough."

I turned back to Drakus. "Alright. Let’s play."

If I expected him to react, I was disappointed. His smile widened just a fraction—just enough to let you know he was enjoying himself. He reached into his coat and pulled out a deck of cards, sliding them out of their case with the kind of practiced ease that came from years of handling them.

They weren’t the cheap, worn cards the merchant had been using. These were clean, crisp, the edges still sharp enough that you could probably cut yourself on them if you weren’t careful.

He shuffled them once, twice, three times, the cards moving between his fingers like they had a life of their own, like they were choosing their own order and he was just there to watch.

Then he dealt.

Three cards slid across the table toward me. Three toward himself. The crowd pressed in closer, the air thick with held breath, their whispers dying down to nothing.

I picked up my cards slowly, keeping my face blank even as my heart rate picked up. A ten, a jack, a queen. Thirty. Almost perfect.

I glanced at Roran, who was watching me with wide eyes, and gave him the smallest nod.

Drakus didn’t look at his cards. He didn’t even touch them. He just sat there, that calm smile still in place, and waited.

"Higher or lower?" he asked.

I studied his face, looking for any tell—a twitch, a breath, anything at all. His expression was relaxed, open, like he was asking about the weather. No tapping fingers. No darting eyes. No nervous habits to give him away.

He was good. Really good.

"...Higher," I said.

He flipped his cards without looking at them. A two, a three, a four. Nine total.

I’d won.

The crowd let out a collective breath, some of them already murmuring with excitement. Roran grabbed my arm, his grin threatening to split his face in half, his earlier fear completely forgotten.

I didn’t smile.

Because Drakus was still sitting there with that same calm expression, his eyes fixed on me, and for some reason, that made my skin prickle.

He scooped up the cards without a word, shuffled again, and dealt.

This time I got a seven, an eight, and a nine. Twenty-four. I pushed my bet forward. "Higher."

He flipped his cards. A four, a five, a six. Fifteen.

I won again.

The crowd was louder now, some of them cheering like they’d already decided how this was going to end. Roran was bouncing in his seat, his eyes bright with the kind of joy that only came from winning when you didn’t expect to.

But I was starting to understand what Roran had meant about the people who played against Drakus.

He didn’t react to losing. He didn’t sweat, didn’t fidget, didn’t give anything away. He just shuffled and dealt like he had all the time in the world, like the coins piling up on my side of the table meant nothing to him. Maybe they didn’t.

The third hand came. A five, a six, a seven. Eighteen. I raised. He matched. I showed my cards. He showed his. A two, a three, a four. Nine.

I’d won again.

The crowd erupted. People were shouting, slapping each other on the back, celebrating like they’d won the money themselves.

I didn’t join them.

Because... Drakus was looking at me with those sharp, knowing eyes, and for the first time since he’d sat down, his smile had changed. It wasn’t wider or narrower—it was something else. Something that made my stomach tighten.

"...Beginner’s luck?" he said quietly.

"..."

I didn’t answer.

He shuffled the cards again, slower this time, taking his time like he was savoring something, and dealt.

I picked up my cards and felt my heart drop.

A two, a three, and a four. Nine total. The worst hand I’d gotten all night.

Roran peered over my shoulder and let out a low whistle. "Oh, that’s bad."

I looked at Drakus. He was watching me with that same calm expression, his cards still face-down in front of him.

"I’m sorry," he said, and for a moment, I almost believed he meant it. "The cards can be cruel sometimes."

I stared at my hand, trying to figure out a way to make this work. Fold now, lose the bet. Play, lose everything. There was no winning here. The numbers didn’t add up.

I started to push my cards forward—

And Roran’s hand shot out, grabbing my wrist.

"Wait!"

I looked at him. His eyes were sharp now, focused, completely different from the lazy drunkard of the past hour. There was something there I hadn’t seen before—something that looked almost like certainty.

"Let me play this one," he said.

I blinked. "What? No. You’ll lose."

"Trust me."

"Like hell I will. You literally lose every game."

He had the grace to look embarrassed for half a second before his expression hardened again. "Just trust me, kid."

Before I could argue, he grabbed the cards from my hand and pushed a massive pile of coins into the center of the table—half of everything we’d won. The crowd gasped.

Roran didn’t even flinch.

Drakus raised an eyebrow—the first real reaction I’d seen from him all night. He looked at the coins, then at Roran, then back at the coins, like he was trying to figure out what he was missing.

"...Are you sure?" he asked, and for the first time, there was something in his voice besides calm amusement.

Roran leaned back in his chair, all the nervous energy gone from his body. "Deal the cards."

Drakus studied him for a long moment, his eyes narrowing slightly, and then he shrugged and dealt. Three cards for Roran. Three for himself.

Roran picked up his hand without looking at it, his eyes fixed on Drakus’s face. "Higher or lower?"

Drakus smiled. "Higher."

He flipped his cards. A five, a six, a seven. Eighteen.

Roran looked at his cards for the first time. His face didn’t change. He just stared at them for a long moment, then laid them on the table.

A six, a seven, and an eight.

Twenty-one.

He’d won.

The crowd exploded. People screamed, jumped, grabbed each other in disbelief. I stared at the cards, at Drakus’s stunned expression, at Roran, who was looking at his own hand like he’d never seen cards before in his life.

"How?!" I demanded.

He shook his head, genuine bewilderment on his face. "I have absolutely no idea."

Drakus’s expression flickered—just for a moment—before settling back into that calm, knowing smile. But it was different now. Something behind it had shifted. "Interesting. Let’s play again."

I pushed another pile of coins forward, watching Roran’s grin spread wider across his face as he reached for the cards again. "Again."

He won. Then he won again. Then again. Each victory blurred into the next until I stopped counting after the fifth hand.

Every time I thought the streak had to end, Roran would lay down his cards and Drakus would stare at them with that same flicker of surprise.

Roran leaned back in his chair, spreading his arms wide. "See, kid? See? I told you to trust me! This is what happens when you let a master work!"

"You’ve never won two hands in a row in your entire life," I said, still staring at the cards.

"Exactly!" He jabbed a finger at me. "That means my luck is changing! We’re invincible! The gods themselves have decided that tonight, Roran wins!"

"The gods decided that Roran, who loses every game he’s ever played, would suddenly become unbeatable."

He thought about that for a moment. Then he shrugged. "Stranger things have happened."

"Name one."

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

"...No."

The crowd was going insane now. An old woman near the bar was openly weeping into her apron. A man had climbed onto a table and was declaring something in a language I didn’t recognize.

I watched Roran as he collected another pile of coins, and for a moment, I saw something in his face that I hadn’t expected. Not joy. Not relief. Something that looked almost like peace. Like for the first time in years, he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

The bouncers grabbed us an hour later.

_

One Hour Later

The cold night air hit my bare skin like a physical blow. I landed in the dirt with a grunt, rolled twice, and came to a stop next to Roran, who was already lying flat on his back, staring up at the stars with a blissful expression that made no sense given what had just happened.

The tavern door slammed shut behind us. Through the thick wood, I could still hear them laughing—loud, raucous, the kind of laughter that came from people who’d just watched someone else make a fool of themselves.

"Come back again, losers!" someone shouted, and another voice added, "Bring more money next time!"

The barmaid’s voice cut through the noise, high and clear: "And maybe some clothes!"

For a long moment, neither of us moved. I lay there trying to piece together how we’d gone from winning everything to being thrown out half-naked.

I looked down at myself. Underwear. Just underwear. My shirt, my pants, my boots, the small pouch of coins—all of it gone.

I looked at Roran. Same situation. He was sprawled out beside me like a man who’d just woken from a pleasant dream.

Our clothes. Our money. Everything we’d won. All of it gone.

"..."

"..."

The silence stretched, and then Roran started laughing. Not a quiet chuckle—the kind that doubled him over, tears streaming down his face.

"I stared at him. ’You’re laughing? We’re naked, Roran. Naked! In the middle of a fucking village at that!’"

He waved a hand at me, still wheezing. "Technically we’re wearing underwear—"

"Technically doesn’t matter when everyone who sees us is going to remember this for the rest of their lives."

He laughed harder, slapping the dirt with one hand.

I wanted to be angry. Every part of me wanted to scream and curse. But watching this grown man lying in the dirt in his underwear, laughing like he had no shame at all, something broke inside me.

I started laughing too.

We walked back toward the orphanage, because what else could we do?

Roran strolled along like he didn’t have a care in the world, his hands clasped behind his head, still chuckling occasionally. The moonlight glinted off his pale skin. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

"You know," he said, "for a noble, you’re not completely useless."

"How do you know I’m a noble?"

"Please." He waved a hand dismissively. "The way you talk, the way you hold yourself, the way you looked at that merchant like he was something you’d scraped off your shoe." He grinned. "Plus, the whole village knows about Mia’s noble. Word travels fast in a place this small."

He let out a short laugh. "They also say you’re a ’handsome demon lord.’ Is that true?"

I groaned. "Those kids need to learn when to stop."

"They’re children. They won’t stop. Ever. You’ll be ’handsome demon lord’ until the day you die or leave, whichever comes first."

"I hate this village."

We walked in silence for a while. The village was quiet now, most people already asleep.

"...Hey," Roran said eventually.

I glanced at him.

"Thanks for tonight."

"For what? We lost everything."

He shrugged. "For trying. For wasting your money on a loser like me." He paused. "Most people wouldn’t bother. So... yeah. Thanks."

I looked away. "Don’t mention it."

We reached the orphanage and found Mia waiting outside with her arms crossed and her foot tapping against the ground. Her face looked like a thundercloud, and when she caught sight of us stumbling up the path, her expression shifted from annoyed to something between disbelief and horror.

She took one long, slow look at us—at our bare feet, our dirt-streaked skin, the leaves tangled in our hair, the general disaster of two grown men standing in front of her in nothing but their underwear and a complete lack of dignity.

Her eye started twitching.

"Leo!"

"Before you say anything—"

"Why!"

"It’s a long story—"

"Are you NAKED?!"

"We’re wearing underwear!"

"THAT’S NAKED!"

"That’s exactly what I said earlier!"

Roran waved cheerfully from behind me. "Hi, Mia. Your noble friend here is absolutely delightful company. We’ve had a wonderful evening."

Mia’s eye twitched again. Without a word, she grabbed a bundle of cloth from somewhere—I didn’t even see where—and hurled it directly at my face.

I caught it just before it hit. Clothes. Old, worn, but clothes.

"Sleep outside," she said flatly. "I’m going to bed. And don’t you dare show yourself to the other kids looking like that."

Before I could respond, she slammed the door in my face.

I stood there in my underwear, holding the clothes, staring at the closed door.

Roran let out a low whistle. "Wow. She’s really pissed this time."

I didn’t respond.

"She’s really, really pissed," he added, just in case I hadn’t caught it the first time.

I sighed and finally looked at him.

He looked back at me.

"..."

"..."

The silence stretched between us.

"What?" Roran finally asked.

I raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a room I could stay in for the night? Or are you planning to stand here in your underwear with me until sunrise?"

Roran blinked.

Then his face split into that familiar grin, wider than before, and he laughed—a real laugh, not the manic one from before, but something warm.

"You helped me out tonight." He clapped me on the shoulder hard enough to make me stumble. "Had my back when you didn’t have to."

He looked at me for a moment.

"And I had fun, pretty boy. First time in a long time I actually had fun."

He laughed and started walking, gesturing for me to follow.

"Come on. I’ve got a spare room. It’s a mess, but it’s got a roof and four walls. Should be good enough for a naked noble."

"I’m not naked. I’m wearing underwear."

"Same thing."

I sighed and followed him into the night.