As soon as Corleone finished speaking, Old Moss's hand froze in mid-air.
He was indeed called Moss. When Corleone was locked up, Captain Sven had called his name in front of the other party. This was not surprising.
However, how did this guy know that he had lost all his money in the casino?
"You..."
A trace of astonishment flashed in Old Moss's eyes, asking suspiciously: "How did you know?"
"Your fingers."
Lifting his chin, Corleone explained as a matter of course: "The pads of the index and middle fingers of your right hand have obvious scorched yellow marks."
"This isn't ordinary dirt, but stains from rubbing hard objects for a long time. The shape and size of the marks are exactly similar to dice."
Pointed out by him, Old Moss subconsciously rubbed his hands.
"Your clothes."
This small movement couldn't escape Corleone's eyes, but he just smiled slightly and continued: "There's a small, inconspicuous patch of wear on your elbow and wrist. The shape is regular, likely caused by repeated rubbing on a rough tabletop."
"There are a few fresh, fine scratches on the edge of the brass buttons of your uniform. That's from repeatedly picking at them with your fingernails when you're emotional. Honestly, any person good at gambling wouldn't do this."
Hearing this, Old Moss unconsciously touched his collar, then looked down and found his elbow indeed worn smooth.
"Finally, your face."
But that wasn't all. Hearing Corleone's voice, Old Moss looked up, finding the other party staring straight at him.
"Your face is too dark."
"Dark?" He subconsciously touched his face.
"Don't touch it, it's just a metaphor."
Corleone was somewhat speechless. This guy was obviously not very smart, unable to understand even this metaphor.
However, he still patiently explained: "Your eyes are always full of resentment and irritability. When you look at every prisoner, it's as if you're looking at a debtor."
"This malice of wanting to transfer losses to others makes you completely a gambler... eager to recoup losses but clueless!"
Hearing this, Old Moss was completely stunned.
The anger on his face was replaced by unbelievable blankness.
He never thought his current situation would be completely seen through by a prisoner he had never met before.
It was as if... he was completely naked in front of this guy!
Looking at Old Moss's embarrassed appearance, Corleone withdrew his gaze, leaning against the cold stone wall in a relaxed posture.
That calm demeanor made it seem as if he wasn't in prison, but meeting a guest in his study.
"Si... Sir..."
This calmness made Old Moss feel he was unfathomable.
He couldn't help but lower his posture, asking tentatively in a low voice: "You said you could help me win back the money I lost. Is that true?"
"Of course."
Corleone smiled: "You don't have bad luck, my friend. You just need a little wisdom."
"Tell me in detail about your recent gambling experience."
"Which casino? Playing with whom? What game?"
Old Moss hesitated for a moment, the desire to recoup losses overwhelming everything: "It's the 'Three Coppers' casino in the alley of Flea Bottom."
"Recently, 'Harvest Roulette' has been popular there. The odds are high. The dealer is from the casino. I bet with a few other regulars."
"At first, I had good luck and won some, but later it got weird. Seven 'smalls' came up in a row. Not only did I give back all the winnings, but I also lost my savings. The Gold Cloaks haven't paid wages for three months. If this goes on..."
His voice became smaller and smaller. Clearly, the gambling loss brought immense pressure to this Gold Cloak.
Corleone listened patiently, a hint of understanding curving his lips.
This trick was common and low-level. He had heard too much about it in his previous life.
"They are cheating."
"Cheating!"
This conclusion made Old Moss scream involuntarily: "But... we watched them throw the dice. They can't cheat!"
"Dice can be swapped at any time. It's a very simple technique."
Corleone's tone was very certain: "Believe me, Old Moss, they won your money by cheating, and I... I will let you win it back openly!"
---
Sitting in the corner of the cell, Rykker watched the two muttering for a long time, wondering what they were talking about.
Just when he was getting impatient, he saw Old Moss happily gripping Corleone's hand tightly, saying incoherently and loudly: "Thank you so much, Lord Corleone!"
"I understand! I'll do exactly as you say!"
However, Corleone just patted Old Moss's shoulder calmly, reminding with a smile: "You owe me a favor, and I need you to cash it now."
"Where are my steak and wine?"
"Right away! Sir!"
Old Moss stood at attention immediately, as if receiving a military order: "Leave it to me!"
With that, he turned and rushed out in a hurry, even his footsteps revealing an unprecedented drive.
Too weird...
Looking at everything happening before him, Rykker widened his eyes, extremely curious about what these two guys talked about.
However, seeing Corleone turn his head and look at him calmly, he felt uncomfortable again, forcing a sneer: "Hmph, although I don't know what method you used to scam a meal."
"But in the end, what you have now is just the treatment I already have. You aren't living better than me!"
Looking at his stubborn appearance, Corleone wasn't annoyed but grinned: "I like your unruly attitude, Lord Rykker."
"Hope you can maintain it later, don't change."
With that, under Rykker's slightly uneasy gaze, Corleone actually turned and walked towards another slightly younger guard!
---
Inside Ser Addam Marbrand's office, the air seemed to freeze.
Watching two Gold Cloaks throw Rorge onto the ground like a bag of trash, Jaime Lannister's heart sank abruptly.
Because this guy looked too miserable.
Previously in Flea Bottom, hit by a three-hit combo from the Gold Cloaks, and kicked in the noseless face by Sven Rosby.
His already ugly face was completely disfigured now, although for this guy, disfigurement and plastic surgery made no difference...
However, the trace of pity just rising in Jaime's heart was instantly replaced by stronger anxiety.
Because so far, he still hadn't seen that familiar calm figure.
"Where is Vito Corleone!"
Jaime turned sharply to Humfrey Waters beside him, suppressing his anger and questioning: "Why don't I see him? Where the hell did you damn guys take him?"