The clientele here were the ultra-wealthy type, and Ethan was trying hard to maintain that persona.
But his phone was a cheap smartphone. If he pulled it out now, the facade would shatter. I really wasn't careful enough!
The manager had been watching Ethan the whole time.
"What the hell are you staring at? Waiting for me to transfer the money?" Ethan cursed under his breath. "Take me to an ATM."
"Right this way, sir."
The casino had ATMs on-site. Ethan used three different machines to withdraw fifty thousand in cash, then tossed the money to the manager. "Get this changed and find me."
He walked over to a sofa and sat down, using the opportunity to survey the entire casino.
This was the first floor. The manager had pointed out some tables and machines earlier but hadn't mentioned the lower levels. Clearly, those weren't accessible through normal means.
Soon, the manager returned with the chips. "Sir, what would you like to play first?"
Ethan shot him a glance and said nothing.
The manager gave an ingratiating smile, didn't press further, and stood to the side, though his eyes kept drifting back to Ethan.
Ethan observed carefully. He noticed that gamblers took drinks from the waitresses' trays without paying, so he waved one over, took a glass, and sipped while watching how the players acted at the tables and the amounts they bet.
Suddenly, a woman walked past him. She was strikingly beautiful and carried herself with an air of elegance that made her stand out even among the attractive, uniformly dressed waitresses.
She was tall, around 5'7", wearing a black office-lady suit. Her legs, accentuated by black stockings, were slender and long. Her short hair gave her a sharp, capable look.
Ethan recognized her instantly. This was his target: Serena He.
Serena walked up to a man, presented a document, and after he read and signed it, someone promptly delivered a stack of chips to him.
Serena then took the document and walked toward the back of the casino, pushing open a concealed door and disappearing inside.
Ethan downed the rest of his drink and stood up, heading for the table where the man was playing.
The game was Three-Card Brag. The ante was fifty, with specific raise rules.
Ethan played cautiously, occasionally betting blind, not losing money too quickly.
The man from earlier, however, watched his chips vanish rapidly. After one particular hand, he tore up his cards in frustration—his chips were gone again.
"Marker! Now!" He slammed the table.
Soon, someone emerged from the same hidden door Serena had used and led the man inside.
Seeing this, Ethan felt confident about what lay behind that door. He ordered another drink, playing and drinking simultaneously, gradually increasing his bets from small beginnings until losing four or five thousand in a single hand became normal.
Over an hour later, Ethan's chips were completely gone.
He stood up, cursing. "Damn it! Luck's not on my side today."
"Sir." The manager who had let him in hurried over seeing Ethan prepare to leave. "Calling it a night?"
"Just gonna hit the spa upstairs, play again after midnight," Ethan said, grabbing another drink. "These damn ATMs have a limit—fifty thousand a day. Can't touch the other cards right now."
"By the way, what can I use your POS machine for?"
"Well..." The manager smiled apologetically. "Sir, we're a simple operation here, not as fancy as the outside world. But if you want to play now, you can get a marker."
The manager had seen it all. Gamblers on a losing streak were the easiest to squeeze money from. Letting him go to the spa might cool him off, and the manager couldn't bear to let a customer stop playing—he got a commission from everyone he brought in.
"A marker? Hell no." Ethan waved a hand dismissively. "I've got money, but I'm not stupid. You guys charge insane interest. Think I'm some degenerate gambler here to throw money at you?"
"Sir, we don't just do high-interest loans; we also offer bridge financing. You just pay a fee if you win. No interest for the first two hours."
"Oh?" Ethan feigned interest.
The manager saw an opening. After all, once you were in this deep, who ever really won? And who could honestly say they'd pay back interest-free? If you couldn't settle up in two hours, the bridge loan was no different from a high-interest one.
"How about a fifty-thousand bridge loan, sir? You can settle it after midnight."
Ethan pretended to think, then nodded. "Fine."
"This way, sir."
The manager led Ethan toward the concealed door.
Behind it was a spacious corridor lined with private rooms on both sides.
The manager ushered Ethan into one of the rooms. "Wait here, sir. I'll get the finance person."
"Where's the restroom?" Ethan asked.
"Just head further down this way." The manager's guard was down now; these credit rooms didn't require much vigilance.
Ethan left the room, heading in the direction of the restrooms while scanning his surroundings. A slender figure flashed past ahead.
Ethan quickened his pace, caught up, wrapped an arm around her slender waist, and spun, pinning her against the wall.
The woman's eyes widened, fixed on Ethan.
He could feel the softness of her body against his.
But now wasn't the time for distractions. He quickly whispered, "Serena He. Mr. Kun sent me to assist you. I know who you are. I'm not here to harm you."
He waited until the fear in Serena's eyes subsided before releasing her and taking a step back.
Serena glanced around nervously, her eyes darting upward toward the ceiling.
"It's fine," Ethan reassured her. "I checked. This spot is a blind spot for the cameras. That's why I pulled you here."
Serena relaxed slightly, but her beautiful face was full of confusion. "My father didn't mention anyone would be assisting me."
Ethan was taken aback. She's Mr. Kun's daughter?
That put Mr. Kun on the same level as 'The Boss.'
He explained, "Two weeks ago, at The Dynasty, someone drugged you and compromised the operation. It was Michael Langford's son. Mr. Kun held Michael accountable. Michael sent me."
Serena nodded slowly. "Then—"
In mid-sentence, she suddenly pulled a pen from her collar and thrust it toward Ethan's eye.
Ethan's pupils contracted. He caught her wrist sharply, only to find the woman fought dirty—her other hand shot toward his groin.
Ethan grunted, "What are you doing?!"
Serena's eyes were fierce. "I know my father's temper. It was Michael Langford's son who messed things up. If Michael wanted to make amends, he'd have to send his own son. Sending a stranger doesn't show enough sincerity to calm my father's anger."
Ethan hurriedly clarified, "I am Michael Langford's son!"
Serena's grip loosened. She looked him up and down.
Ethan glanced around and whispered, "I know your identity. If I meant you harm, I wouldn't have approached you like this. Michael said to help you retrieve the 'shipment.'"
Serena put the pen away. "If you want the 'shipment,' just getting a marker here isn't enough. You need to make a bigger scene, get them to take you to the collections room. Jack 'Two-Finger' Zhao is a sadist; he tortures people in there every day."
Ethan had researched casinos beforehand and knew what a 'collections room' meant.
"You hid the 'shipment' there?"
Serena's eyes widened, confusion returning to her face. "Michael didn't tell you what the 'shipment' is?"
"No." Ethan shook his head. "What is it?"
Serena took a deep breath. "Jack 'Two-Finger' Zhao's index finger. He's the casino owner."