Chapter 124
Inside a Luxury Villa
The bathroom door swung open slowly. With a soft click of the lock, a cloud of steam spilled out like a silk veil, instantly blurring the opulent furnishings of the bedroom.
A woman emerged, wrapped in a pure white silk robe.
The smooth fabric clung to her graceful figure, the belt casually knotted at her waist, accentuating her slender curves.
The neckline hung slightly open, revealing expanses of delicate skin and an elegant collarbone. A few droplets of water still clung there, sliding slowly down the graceful line of her neck before disappearing into the shadowy depths of the robe.
She had radiant golden hair. Freshly washed, the long wet strands draped over her shoulders and chest, a few locks sticking to her fair cheeks, exuding an unpolished laziness and allure.
The woman walked over to a table and sat down.
On the table sat a brand-new deck of cards.
This was Monica.
Monica extended her slender fingers, their tips lightly touching the smooth edge of the deck.
With a crisp snap, she flicked open the seal with one hand, pouring the entire fresh deck across the table like a waterfall.
She drew a deep breath, her gaze sharpening with focus.
The next second, her hands became a blur.
Those fifty-four cards seemed to spring to life instantly, transforming into sprites dancing at her fingertips.
The shuffling motion flowed without the slightest hitch—the cards flipped, crossed, and interlocked between her fingers, producing a rhythmic cascade of crisp sounds like flowing water.
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A dazzling array of fancy techniques alternated seamlessly in her hands.
The cards would spread in mid-air like butterflies taking flight, catching the light with a cold gleam. Then they'd gather precisely back into her palm like birds returning to their nest.
When the final crisp collision of cards fell silent, all the 'sprites' settled into stillness in an instant.
She clapped her hands together sharply. The entire deck, as if enchanted, aligned perfectly into a flawless rectangle.
She placed the deck gently on the table, then drew a single card.
Monica flipped her hand—revealing the Ace of Spades!
But when she flipped it again.
The card in her hand had become the Two of Spades.
Monica flipped once more. The card transformed into the Three of Spades!
"Why?"
Monica's low murmur escaped her lips.
Her skills were still there.
As 'God.'
Her gambling techniques had long transcended mortal understanding.
She'd once been blindfolded and, merely by feeling the minute textures on the backs of cards with her fingertips, could accurately call out each card's value.
Those gamblers who prided themselves on invincible cheating methods would lose everything down to their underwear in front of her, ending up on their knees begging for mercy.
She could complete a card switch in a tenth of a second—so fast that even high-speed cameras couldn't catch the flaw.
She didn't even need to look at the cards. Just by hearing the sound of cards rubbing against air, she could determine what the next card would be.
But today.
She had lost.
Lost to a man.
Jack.
This was Monica's only defeat—ever!
God... had bled!
Lost to a mortal.
Monica couldn't understand it.
She could switch cards without even looking, so why hadn't she won against Jack even once today?
Jack hadn't even touched the cards.
She'd been dealing the entire time.
Which meant.
There was no possibility of him switching cards.
But she could switch cards herself—so why had she let him win so many times?
"Unless..."
A bone-chilling thought crept up her spine like a cold serpent, coiling around the base of her skull.
Monica's pupils contracted sharply, her breathing stopping in that instant.
She snapped her head down, staring fixedly at her own hands—those hands countless people had revered as miraculous, hands that had never made a single mistake.
"Could it be..." Her voice trembled uncontrollably. "That I let him win?"
"That I helped him switch the cards myself."
"So that's how he could predict the game."
"Because whatever cards he wanted, I dealt him exactly those cards!"
This realization exploded in her mind like a thunderclap.
Monica absolutely trusted her own technique.
In front of her, no one could beat her.
Unless... it was herself!
Understanding this.
Monica grasped it all in an instant.
No wonder Jack could predict the game.
Because he didn't need to predict at all.
He only needed to, at some moment before the deal—through some method she couldn't possibly detect, maybe an imperceptible look, maybe a specific rhythm of fingers tapping the table, or even just a subtle change in breathing frequency—plant a command deep in her brain.
Then, like a puppet programmed to execute instructions, she automatically dealt Jack the cards he wanted!
"So... from beginning to end, I was cheating for him..."
Monica collapsed back into her chair, her face deathly pale.
What terrified Monica most was this:
Throughout the entire process, she hadn't noticed a thing.
Her subconscious had betrayed her.
Her technique, her speed, her eyes—in front of Jack, they were all a joke, completely useless.
In front of Jack.
She could never win!
"Monster..."
Monica murmured to herself.
This method resembled hypnosis.
But Monica knew it was far more than simple hypnosis.
Hypnosis required guidance, required establishing psychological barriers, then peeling them away layer by layer.
But Jack hadn't done that. He'd just sat there, not even looking at her once.
He simply... existed.
Like a drop of ink falling into clear water—no stirring needed, no waiting required. It would seep, spread, and devour everything on its own. And her consciousness was that glass of clear water.
"Not hypnosis—rewriting!"
He'd rewritten her brain's perception of reality.
"He didn't even touch me..."
Monica's fingers unconsciously gripped the edge of her robe, knuckles white. "He just sat there, watching me, and then my brain lied to itself."
This ability... was too terrifying!
If Jack had used drugs, mechanisms, any physical means to cheat, she could have found the flaw.
She could expose it, counter it, win back everything she'd lost in the next round.
But this time, her opponent was her own brain.
How do you gamble against your own subconscious? How do you beat someone who can tamper with your perception?
Monica slowly closed her eyes, a helpless smile touching her lips.
A person like this.
She couldn't win against him.
"Jack..."
Monica murmured Jack's name, her face full of bitter amusement.
This man was too terrifying.
She decided she'd stay far away from him from now on.
Her name was God.
So from now on, wherever Jack was would be God's forbidden zone!