Ultimately, I decided to accept the veteran dealer’s invitation and meet with the owner. I probably could have refused, but the man had been so incredibly humble that I felt like I was just being swept along by the momentum of the situation. He told me my companions were welcome to join us, so Halfa and the others came along. For the record, the Petit Golems were currently tucked away in my pocket in their "petit" state.
Since we had ended up losing all our coins anyway, the house had no real reason to hold a grudge against us. In fact, it didn't seem like the owner had summoned us just to vent his frustrations. So far, so good—or so I thought.
"Look, I am truly sorry! I know rigging the game is hardly a respectable thing to do, but if I hadn't, Rainanorn would have been ruined! I’ll make it up to you, I swear! So please, just let it go this once!"
The man claiming to be the owner blurted this out while bowing his head low. He was a young Commoner, maybe twenty years old or so. He might have only recently inherited the casino.
As for why the conversation had taken this turn... honestly, I didn't have a clue. The moment we stepped into the owner's office, he had simply exploded into this display. To begin with, far from needing to "let it go," I wasn't even angry about the cheating. If anything, the cheating hadn't even worked...
At a loss for words, I glanced toward the older dealer. He gave me a wry smile and a small nod, appearing ready to offer some backup.
"Owner. This is quite difficult to say, but..."
"Quiet, Randy! Don't interrupt me. I’m in the middle of offering a sincere apology here. No matter the reason, cheating is never—"
"Quite right, sir. However, the attempt to rig the game actually failed."
"...The rigging failed? Did I hear that right?"
Taken aback by the unexpected news, the owner stared at him with a blank expression. He must have had absolute confidence in Randy's skills, as the possibility of the trick failing hadn't even crossed his mind.
"Regrettably, it’s the truth. Someone likely bumped into the table, and the impact threw the outcome off..."
"I see. Then Rainanorn is finished."
The owner’s eyes went hollow as he stared into the distance. The shock was clearly immense—he looked as if his soul was about to leave his body. Noticing this, Randy hurriedly continued.
"No, well, the thing is..."
Randy seemed to have a remarkably accurate grasp of what had happened during the second game. While he didn't know the exact method, he was convinced that I had forced a loss through some means of my own. He explained his theory to the owner, mixing in a fair bit of conjecture.
"So, Rainanorn was saved after all? That's a relief, but... why lose on purpose?"
"I'm afraid I can't answer that myself..."
The eyes of both the owner and Randy turned toward me.
"Umm... I suppose it was to avoid making an enemy of the establishment?"
"I see? ...No, I still don't get it. Sure, I might have resented you if the casino went under, but you didn't need to worry about that, did you? You had the chance to walk away with enough money to last a lifetime. Was that really a good enough reason to throw away such a fortune?"
"Well... when you put it that way..."
The owner looked at me as if I were some incomprehensible creature. His confusion was understandable, but it still put me in a bit of a spot. Personally, I’d much rather have no money at all than be the target of someone's grudge.
An awkward silence descended upon the room, only to be broken by Lowell clearing his throat.
"Tort’s logic can be a bit hard to follow, so let me explain."
I wasn't sure why we were suddenly having an exposition session, but Halfa was already nodding along with her arms crossed, while Spira gave a strained smile. Seriously, what is going on?
"As you've both realized, Tort’s luck is abnormal. It’s the kind of luck that brings about a favorable result even if you try to rig the game against him."
"Well, I suppose so. Winning back-to-back on single-number bets is normally impossible."
"Exactly," Randy added.
The owner and the dealer seemed to accept the reality of my luck. I had no objections either, though I felt "abnormal" was perhaps a bit of an overstatement.
"Now, do you think someone with that kind of freakish luck would live a mediocre, average life? Of course not," Lowell continued. "Tort is the kind of guy who can find rare materials just by wandering through a patch of grass. When he explores a dungeon, he walks out with gold and silver as if it were nothing."
Ah, yeah. When he puts it that way, I sound pretty amazing.
The owner and the dealer were blinking in surprise at the outrageous story. However, seeing that the rest of my party remained perfectly nonchalant, they seemed to realize it was the literal truth.
"In other words, money isn't actually that valuable to Tort. It's something he can get his hands on relatively easily. That's why the downside of being resented by the house outweighs the benefit of gaining more gold."
I see. Lowell's explanation actually made a lot of sense to me. It wasn't exactly that I was "too rich to care," but having that kind of leeway naturally made my priority avoiding unnecessary trouble. When he laid it out like that, I realized he was right.
"I-I see..."
"What an incredible tale..."
The owner and Randy looked half-convinced and half-dazed. They could grasp the logic, but the idea that such a person actually existed was probably hard to swallow. Unfortunately for them, one was standing right in front of them.
"Umm, so that's how it is. You really don't need to worry about it."
"Is that so? Well, it’s a fortunate turn of events for us, but we can't just take your kindness for granted."
I really didn't mind, but he seemed to have his pride as a proprietor. He didn't look like he was willing to just accept my words unconditionally.
"Fine. In that case, we’ll offer you our full cooperation as an apology. Given your lack of interest in money, I doubt you came here just to play at the tables. If you need any help, just say the word. I’m sure we can be of use."
The owner’s proposal was exactly what we needed. We had come all the way to Zephyrson following the trail of the fleeing cultists, but we didn't have any solid leads yet. Having local help would be a massive advantage. Without wasting a moment, I decided to ask if he knew anything about the Evil Cultists.