They watched a few more hands. Victor stole blinds without resistance. Pulled off a three-bet bluff with 6♠️ 4♠️ and made the Big Blind fold top pair. No celebration. Just… cold execution.
When Victor flipped over the suited 6-4, the big blind exploded.
Victor shrugged, completely unbothered. "I'm allowed to play whatever I want."
A wave of whispers rippled through the onlookers.
A wave of whispers rippled through the onlookers.
"That's Victor Armstrong, right?"
"Yea… He's been making headlines ever since he's legally allowed to play."
"But is he really the poker player to watch out for? He's a fish! Look at the hand that he just played."
"He's a fish who just scooped a monster pot. You want to say that to his face?"
"I heard he's being trained by one of the Suits."
"No, I heard he's the son of one."
Lance glanced at Kenji. "What are the Suits?"
Kenji's tone dropped a note lower. "The best players in the world. The Ace of Spades, King of Hearts, Queen of Clubs, and Jack of Diamonds. Legends. And then there's the Four Jokers… the wild cards. Together, they pretty much run the poker world."
Before Lance could ask more, a murmur swept through the crowd.
"Something's happening."
They turned back to the massive overhead screen.
A woman in a crimson, form-fitting gown sat casually on the button, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. The deep slit in her dress revealed toned legs, and a diamond bracelet glimmered on her wrist as she fingered her stack of chips like a concert pianist about to perform. Her long, dark curls tumbled over one shoulder, and her eyes—sharp, smoky, calculating—hid behind a veil of long lashes.
She looked like she belonged on a magazine cover, not at a poker table.
But the way she moved? There was nothing casual about it.
The flop came down: Q♦️ 10♠️ 9♥️.
She checked. Victor raised. The woman grinned and made a huge re-raise.
Victor hesitated – but only for a second – before calling.
Turn: 4♦️.
Victor checked. The woman fired a pot-sized bet.
River: 2♠️.
"All-in." Rae smiled as she leaned back against her chair, arms folded.
Victor tanked. A full minute passed. Then another.
And then… he folded his hand – 9♦️10♦️.
The room buzzed.
The woman leaned forward and flipped over her cards– K ♥️J ♣️
"You're not like what they say – invincible."
Victor didn't respond. He merely reached for his cup of Iced Matcha and took a long sip.
Lance's eyes narrowed. He wasn't sure what stirred more—the boldness of the woman who made Victor fold… or the flicker of something in Victor's expression. Something human.
"Who is she?" Lance asked.
"Rae Johnson," Kenji said, squinting at the screen. "She's got a reputation—plays fast, folds sharp. Scares the shit out of half the table just by smiling. APT Taipei, WPT Macau... she's final-tabled everywhere."
Victor looked across the table, his eyes finally locking with Rae's.
And he smiled. "It's always an honor to go up against you, Ms. Johnson," he said, tone respectful, but laced with something warmer. "I didn't expect to bump into a five-time APT champ here."
She tilted her head slightly, a lock of hair falling across one eye. "I wanted to see you in person. Up close."
Victor chuckled, tapping the felt gently. "Well, I'm just a new player who got lucky."
He paused. Then added, "Maybe I'll get lucky again tonight."
He winked.
Rae laughed, full and easy, yet somehow still sharp. "Then let's see how lucky you really are."
Somewhere in the crowd, someone hissed, "Lucky bastard…"
######
Since all final tables were being recorded for broadcast, Lance and Kenji didn't linger long. After watching a few more hands at Victor's table, they drifted through the rest of the tournament hall, checking out side events, merch booths, and the pop-up poker museum lined with player memorabilia.
Eventually, they found a quiet corner near the player lounge.
Leaning against a pillar, Lance asked, "So… the Suits."
He paused mid-thought as a group of stunning young women walked by, giggling and tossing flirtatious glances towards the high roller lounge. Only once they'd passed did he continue.
"There are eight of them, right? Who are they, exactly?"
Kenji hesitated.
Lance raised an eyebrow. "Kenji?"
With a sigh, Kenji shoved his hands into his pockets. "Alright. The Suits and the Jokers—they're not just nicknames. They're official titles. The highest you can earn in the poker world."
He paused, watching Lance's expression shift from curiosity to focus.
"Every major live tournament uses a global scoring system," Kenji explained. "You place in the money, make final tables, win titles—you get points on the GPI a.k.a Global Poker Index. There's a Player of the Year every season, yeah, but every decade, something bigger happens."
Lance tilted his head. "Go on."
"At the end of each ten-year cycle, the eight highest-scoring players qualify for what's basically a legendary showdown. Not streamed. Not public. Invite-only. Out of those eight… The top four become the Suits. The other four become the Jokers.
"The Suits and the Jokers are the elite—the best of the best. They get seeded into any global event, invited to private games, and heck, some of them even managed to hang out with royals."
Lance nodded slowly, processing it all. His eyes flicked back towards the tournament stage.
"So where's Victor and Rae on that list?"
Kenji leaned against the wall beside him, folding his arms. "Rae was good, but still not enough to topple the Suits and Jokers. There's only 3 years left in the current 10-year cycle, and the chances of her making it to the top is very slim.
"As for Victor, I think he's training at the moment. People are calling him the youngest serious contender for a Suit seat in the next cycle. If he keeps winning like this, he won't just qualify—he might take the Ace."
Lance's brow furrowed. "He's already being groomed for a title?"
"Groomed?" Kenji repeated, glancing at him. "Nah. The scary part is, no one's grooming him. From what I know, he's doing it all solo."
Lance didn't respond right away. His gaze drifted again to the felt tables, the overhead lights, the weight of it all.
No sponsors. No coach. No legacy name—just talent.
"If he can do it," he said quietly, voice firm with resolve, "then so can I."
Kenji studied him for a moment, then shrugged with a grin. "Hey, anyone can dream. That's the beauty of poker—if you've got the brains and the guts, even a nobody can rise to the top. In fact…"
He pulled out his phone and tapped quickly. "In fact... check this out."
Lance took the phone as Kenji handed it over. His eyes scanned the headline on the screen.
"The Suits & The Jokers – Legends of the Felt"
[In the world of high-stakes poker, there are two tiers of legends: The Suits and The Jokers. They are symbols—of strategy, charisma, mystery, and power. And for players climbing the ranks, they are the dream… or the nightmare waiting at the final table.
[Let's take a look at the current Suits & Jokers!]
Lance scrolled through the article, pausing at the lineup of photos and names.
[The Four Jokers: Red Joker – Juno "Blaze" Dante ; Black Joker – Asher "Phoenix" Lee ; Silver Joker – Matteo "Crash" Vincente ; Gold Joker – Ava Reyes]
"This Asher guy doesn't have a proper profile picture?"
"Because he always wears a mask. No one knows what he looks like," Kenji replied as he leaned over to take a look.
"Huh." Lance continued scrolling.
[The Four Suits: Jack of Diamonds – Devon Wraith ; Queen of Clubs – Selena "Black Club" Moreau ; King of Hearts – Lucien Vale ; Ace of Spades – Kazuo "The Shadow" Nakamura]
"Hey, there's a guy with the same surname as you."
This time, Kenji didn't respond. Not right away.
Lance glanced up.
Kenji's usual smirk was gone, replaced with something quieter. Thoughtful. Almost guarded.
"…Any relation?" Lance asked, half-joking.
Kenji gave a short laugh. "Nakamura's a common name in Japan. Don't read too much into it."