<b>Chapter </b><b>501 </b>
High above, fighter jets streaked across the blue sky dotted with white clouds.
Inside the lead S–level mecha fighter, Judy asked, “How much longer until we reach Baykeep?”
“Your Highness, ten minutes.”
She would see them in ten minutes. Judy’s eyes turned cold as steel. “What’s the situation with the gambling tournament?”
“It doesn’t look good,” Harry replied.
“Turn on the live broadcast. I want to see for myself.”
The feed showed only five yers remaining at the table.
Shermaine stood out as the sole woman among them, drawing every eye in the room.
Simon had been targeting her relentlessly, yet his every attempt backfired–instead of eliminating Shermaine, he’d watched other yers fall one <b>by </b>one. With each failure, his frustration mounted.
Shermaine, however, appearedpletely unbothered–casually munching on snacks and sipping her coffee, clearly enjoying herself.
“The final three are about to be determined!” the director announced. “All five yers, please reveal your cards.”
Barrett stared at the results, disappointment written across his face. He hadn’t made it to the top three. He was out.
Now their only hope rested with Shermaine.
“Eliminated yers must leave the table immediately. The game will resume in five minutes,” the director continued.
Before leaving, Barrett nced once more at Shermaine. The final three–this was the moment of truth. They were finally going head–<b>to</b>–head <b>for </b>real.
During the intermission, the dealers cleared the cards from the table. Soon, only stacks of chips remained. Shermaine’s pile towered above the rest, a mountain of winnings.
What they’d be gambling on next remained a mystery.
Simon leaned forward with a sneer. “Boa, don’t think you’re going to win this.”
Shermaine chuckled softly, “You might want to save that line for yourself.”
The next game was announced quickly–ckjack. The moment Shermaine heard it was ckjack<b>, </b>she raised an eyebrow with interest.
For a mathematician, ckjack was practically child’s y to manipte–all it took was using her analytical mind. odds in her favor.
te probabilities and tip the
The rules were straightforward enough. After removing the jokers, cards 2 through 9 held their face value, while 10s, Jacks, Queens, and Kings were all worth 10 points. Aces could count as either 1 or 11<b>, </b>depending on what worked best for your hand.
The game rules were straightforward enough–both yers added up their card values, and whoever had the higher total won. The maximum was <b>21 </b>points, and going over meant you “busted” and lost automatically. If both yers tied, it was a draw.
For the first round, the tournament director randomly selected Shermaine as the dealer.
Simon’s eyes lit up at this development. He exchanged <b>a </b>meaningful nce with the other yer—a look that said <b>everything</b>. <b>They </b>were <b>working </b>together. This yer had already been bought.
<b>Sat</b><b>, </b>
3
As the dealer, Shermaine would get to shuffle the deck. If she shuffled, their chances of hitting 21 would essentially vanish. So <b>one </b>of <b>them </b><b>would </b><b>have </b>to be eliminated from the equation. The question was who would draw the short straw.
Shermaine took the fresh deck and began cutting the cards.
Unless you watched very carefully, her shuffling technique was almost impossible to follow–lightning–fast cuts and flourishes that <b>made </b><b>your </b><b>eyes </b><b>water </b>just trying to track them.
Even more impressive, she could flip individual cards through the air and catch them in perfect sequence.
Within moments, she’d finished shuffling.
The director took the deck back and began dealing. Shermaine’s first card was a 7, Simon drew a 10, and the other yer got a 9, Both of her opponents had drawn better opening hands than she had.
By the time the third card was dealt, they had already doubled their bets and were eager to draw more cards.
“Dealer, are you in?” the director asked.
“I’m in.” Shermaine didn’t hesitate for a second.
“Since the dealer’s ying, how about we just reveal our hands now?” Mammon, the other yer, suggested with obvious confidence. <b>“</b>There are only two cards left anyway.”
“Fine by me.” Shermaine tossed in a hefty pile of chips and revealed his cards.
Simon matched the bet.
Mammon had calcted the odds–his chances of busting were slim. He wasn’t worried.
But when the final two cards were revealed, his expression shifted. He never expected such low–probability bad luck to strike him directly, while Shermainended perfectly on twenty. Simon also hit twenty–a push. Mammon was out.
Simon had lost his right–hand man. It was down to one–on–one.
“You’re cheating,” Simon said, disbelief written across his face.
Shermaine’sugh was light and dismissive. “Which eye of yours say me cheat?”
The director issued Simon a yellow card warning for his usation<b>. </b>ording to the rules, since the dealer had won, they couldn’t deal again–Simon would take over as dealer next, giving him his chance to shuffle the deck.
Inside the fighter jets, Judy exploded. “Useless idiots, getting yed like fools!” She turned away from the screen in disgust. “Speed up. Take down Shermaine before this tournament ends.”
Simon would never beat Shermaine–she’d just toy with him like she had with everyone else.
AD
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