Chapter 121

"What's going on here?"

"It was clearly the 2 of hearts when I looked at it just now."

Jack's lips curved into a slight smile. He looked at Sherry and said, "Never trust your own eyes. Sometimes, your eyes can fool you."

"And it's not just your eyes."

"Sometimes, you can't even trust yourself!"

As he spoke, Jack pulled out another card. "What card is this?"

Sherry didn't answer right away.

She stared at the card with the kind of focus you'd give a complex math problem. The card caught the light with a cold gleam, and the 8 of spades was so crisp and clear that even the fine print along the edges was perfectly visible.

But she said nothing.

Jack didn't rush her. He just waited quietly.

One second. Three seconds. Five seconds. About twenty seconds passed.

Sherry still hadn't given her answer.

"You're hesitating," he said softly.

Sherry finally looked up, a barely noticeable flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. "I really do see the 8 of spades, but after what you just said... I'm not so sure of myself anymore."

"Exactly."

"People really can fool themselves!"

"Take another look."

Jack laid the card flat on the table.

Sherry looked down at it — and this time, she saw that the card had changed from the 8 of spades to the 10 of hearts.

"What!"

Sherry's mouth fell open in shock.

She raised her hand to cover her mouth, her eyes filled with pure disbelief. It was like watching magic happen right in front of her.

She snapped her head up and stared hard at Jack, as if this familiar man had suddenly become a complete mystery she couldn't begin to solve.

"How... how did you do that?" Her voice trembled from the shock, and her breathing had gone short and quick.

Still not willing to believe it, Sherry looked back down at the table.

The 10 of hearts was still lying there, its bright red color almost jarring under the warm yellow light.

She even reached out and pressed her fingertip firmly against the card, then ran her fingers along the edge of the table — no hidden compartments, no mechanisms, not even the slightest sign that anything had been swapped out.

But she had clearly seen the 8 of spades before. Now it was the 10 of hearts.

This was completely beyond logic and the laws of physics. Sherry couldn't make sense of it.

"There's no trick to the table," Jack said, watching her search in vain. He leaned forward slightly, his steady gaze cutting right through her defenses. "The truth is, this card has always been the 10 of spades. It never changed."

Sherry's pupils contracted sharply, and her mind went completely blank.

"Never changed..." she murmured, as if asking Jack and herself at the same time. "Does that mean I... saw it wrong?"

"Not wrong." Jack shook his head, his voice as calm as if he were stating something obvious. "You deceived yourself. Your brain deceived your eyes."

"I deceived myself?" Sherry still didn't understand.

Jack looked at her confused expression, and the amusement in his eyes deepened.

He raised one long finger and lightly tapped his own temple, then said to her quietly, "The human brain is an incredibly precise receiver — but also one that's surprisingly easy to manipulate."

Jack's voice was low and magnetic, carrying a dangerously persuasive pull. "When your subconscious is driven by a powerful psychological suggestion, your brain will automatically rewrite what you're seeing."

Sherry's eyes narrowed.

She looked up at Jack, stunned. In that moment, it was as if an invisible bolt of lightning had struck her, freezing her completely in place.

Those eyes of hers — always so calm and sharp — were now trembling with shock, a storm of disbelief churning in their depths.

Her gaze was locked on Jack's face, just inches away, as if she were seeing this man clearly for the very first time.

"You..."

She opened her mouth, but her throat felt like an invisible hand had closed around it, and even breathing had become difficult.

Jack's words were still echoing in her ears — "You deceived yourself."

Those words were like a precise, ruthless scalpel, cutting straight through the wall of reason she had always been so proud of.

She had always believed she had the sharpest eye for detail, the clearest judgment — but now this man was telling her that the very brain she trusted most had, without her even knowing, become the thing working against her.

A chill shot up from the soles of her feet straight to her spine, and she shuddered involuntarily.

Sherry took a deep breath, pushed down the shock, and looked at Jack with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Hypnosis?"

Jack gave a small nod. "That's right."

This was the method Jack used at the casino.

He knew perfectly well that when it came to pure gambling skill, he was no match for the professional dealers who had been sharpened by years of experience.

At a fast-moving table — competing on speed, card counting, or keeping a straight face — he had no chance of winning.

But he won on a completely different level.

Jack looked at Sherry, his tone as easy as if he were talking about the weather. "Whether it was Bruce or Monica, they both wanted to win too badly. Their brains were constantly hunting for patterns, looking for any crack to exploit. All I had to do was give them a small 'suggestion' at the exact moment they were most desperate to see a way out."

He leaned back slightly, relaxed and unhurried. "When someone is completely convinced they're going to win, their subconscious automatically filters out anything that contradicts that belief. I didn't even need to switch cards. All it took was a look, a shift in tone, or one small gesture — just enough to guide where their eyes and thoughts went — and they'd deal me exactly the cards I wanted."

A chill ran down Sherry's spine as she listened.

A top-level gambler controls their own cards.

They all want their hand to beat everyone else's.

But Jack was a step above all of them.

He wasn't even controlling the cards.

He was controlling the players.

It hit Sherry like a sudden roar in her head — like a massive bell had been struck right beside her ear, leaving her eardrums ringing and her very soul shaking.

She stared at the man lounging on the sofa in front of her.

The warm yellow light fell across the sharp lines of his profile, casting a mysterious and dangerous glow over him.

In that moment, Jack became something entirely different in her eyes.

He was no longer just a man. He was something that bent people's minds to his will.

She finally understood how Jack could see the game ahead of time and never lose.

She understood why Bruce, and Monica — who called herself God — had been beaten so badly.

Everything they were so proud of — their experience, their skill, their calculations — was a joke in front of Jack.

And that was exactly what had brought them down.

What defeated them wasn't Jack.

It was themselves.