Casino Wizard - Chapter 11

Today was the Feast Day of Saint Agnes. A holiday for the casino.

While casinos traditionally operated 24/7 in my past life—ensuring customers could come anytime with confidence—it wasn’t the same in this life.

The decision to close on certain days, even at a cost, was heavily influenced by the church.

“Wizard Hyden, I’ve heard much about you from the saintess.”

“Your Eminence, Cardinal.”

“I’ll get straight to the point. I can’t abide that your casino operates even on Sundays. Worshippers, who should be sitting in church with pure hearts, are instead lining up at that den of temptation!”

“Our casino opens only at noon, after mass—”

“They queue up in the morning, don’t they?”

Three years ago, the cardinal summoned me and voiced his grievances about Sunday operations.

In short, he wanted the casino closed on Sundays.

From the church’s perspective, having their benefactors spend money at the casino instead of donating to the church was intolerable.

Challenging the church head-on would have been unwise. Defying them could have brought serious consequences.

So, I negotiated.

While Sunday closures were impossible, I promised to close on major liturgical feast days to show my respect for the church.

It was a compromise: roughly 14 days off a year and regular donations to the church.

In hindsight, it wasn’t a bad deal. It gave me occasional breaks and fostered an amicable relationship with the church. Even some clergy became regular patrons.

Normally, I spent these holidays resting quietly at home. But today was different.

“Hyden, be honest with me. Am I just a useless freeloader collecting a paycheck?”

The middle-aged hero, Pierrot, had started a round of self-loathing, likely triggered by being left out of Miriam’s assignment.

Unable to ignore his mood, I decided to arrange a small gathering for morale.

…

I took him and our elven archer to a fine dining establishment—a place where a single meal cost about 50 silver. Despite the gourmet food, Pierrot remained sullen.

“Just look at this parsley garnish. It could’ve been a sack of potatoes…”

“Please, just eat.”

“Sorry. It just reminds me of the old days.”

He gazed bitterly at his venison steak. I could understand his sentiment. Pierrot had been in his forties when he was chosen as a hero and was now nearing fifty.

Had he not become a hero, he might already be in his grave or struggling through old age in the countryside.

Even if luck had kept him healthy, living a carefree life watching his grandchildren would have been impossible. He would likely have continued to toil in overwork with an aging body.

Judging by his expression and words, I could guess what the hero was thinking.

“Hero, do you think you’ve accomplished nothing in your life?”

“oppa, that’s a bit—”

“It’s fine, Lucy. Hyden speaks the truth.”

The hero nodded, dismissing the archer’s concern.

What followed was a lament.

“I still don’t understand why the goddess chose someone like me as the hero.”

“…”

“To be honest, I was considered useless even in my remote village. My brothers mocked me for my small frame… and I started going bald in my early twenties. At least I was good at raising pigs and chickens, even tending to livestock for other households.”

“Hero—”

“I should have lived and died that way. Why on earth did the goddess pick me? Sigh.”

The middle-aged hero now blamed even the goddess.

It was a valid question, making it hard to refute.

To be honest, I was curious too. Why would the goddess choose a man who had never held a sword, who was too old to expect any growth, and put him through so much? If she wanted to bless a diligent farmer, there must have been other ways.

“He’s even more depressed now. Maybe I should’ve just let him rest at home.”

I wondered if taking him out as a gesture of appreciation had backfired.

Thinking this was a bit tricky, I cautiously set my fork and knife down.

Forced compliments would only backfire. So, I took another approach.

“Hero, it is true that your skills are inferior compared to other heroes.”

“That’s… true.”

“The dragonian hero Leandro of the Southern Dragon Kingdom, the female hero Claire of the City Alliance, and the Imperial hero of the Northern Empire, born into royalty—all of them are excellent in status and skill. They’re far beyond comparison.”

“Haha…”

The middle-aged hero’s expression grew increasingly somber.

I hadn’t brought up other heroes to torment him. I was just laying the groundwork.

“But, hero, the truth is, we’re no better.”

“Uh…?”

“Take me, for instance.”

To explain that the rest of us weren’t exactly stellar recruits either, I shared my own shortcomings.

It was self-deprecating but necessary now.

“I am an illegitimate child. Though I had some talent for magic, which allowed me into the Magic Tower, I never escaped that stigma.”

“But you’re still a mage—”

“Not skilled enough to be the hero’s party’s mage.”

“…”

“If the Archmage’s more promising disciples hadn’t feigned illness to avoid joining, I would never have been part of this party… absolutely not.”

That was my turn done.

The youngest, the female archer, seamlessly took her turn.

“Hero, at least you had family.”

“Well, my parents passed away twenty years ago, and my siblings are all gone too—”

“I don’t even know who my parents were. I’m an orphan.”

“Oh.”

“Until I was twelve, all I ate was rye bread and turnip soup. And that was only twice a day.”

The hero’s expression softened a bit, his gaze growing pitying.

It was true that the hero had lived a hard life.

But honestly, the rest of the party, except for the saintess, was no better off. Even the shield-bearer who wasn’t here—he claimed to be a noble, but in reality, he was from a fallen noble family.

The reason we were relentlessly pushed to our limits back then was largely because of that. Lacking skill, full of flaws, and with weak backgrounds, we were easy targets for exploitation without fear of repercussions.

“Not that recalling all this now is any less miserable.”

We didn’t plan to stop at self-deprecation, though. That would only chip away at our self-esteem in the long run.

So, pretending to be nonchalant, I cut into my steak again and spoke up.

“And hero—”

“Yes?”

“Think about it. Aren’t we in a better position than other hero parties now?”

“Are we?”

“All of them were granted titles and lofty positions in their respective nations, but with that came enormous responsibilities. From what I hear, they’re still expected to face powerful monsters whenever they appear, as if it’s their duty.”

Other hero parties still living like champions, even after the Demon King’s death.

Our party, living a much quieter life, running a casino after disbanding.

Some might argue their lives are more successful, but in terms of quality of life, I’d say we have the edge. All we need to manage is one business. Sure, there are occasional issues, but we don’t have to risk our lives anymore.

The hero seemed to ponder my words for a moment.

Still, a doubt lingered, and he quietly added, “But that comfortable life is thanks to you, Hyden.”

“Do you think I offered you a job out of pity?”

“Wasn’t it?”

“If I had hired an adventurer with similar skills as head of security, they would’ve caused trouble with the money in no time. Why wouldn’t they? Casinos are full of gold and silver coins lying around.”

“I wouldn’t do such a thing. It’s dishonorable.”

“Exactly.”

The hero, realizing he was trusted, looked visibly relieved.

Soon, the sound of cutting meat resumed.

Venison steak with walnut and pomegranate sauce.

It had cooled a bit during our downcast conversation but was still good enough to eat.

“By the way, oppa, do you remember? That time we spent four days in the rain chasing a vampire in the Conigila estate, only to fail?”

The archer, munching on her steak, brought up a random anecdote. She seemed to be trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, that happened.”

“We were gnawing on venison jerky for meals, and the villagers—especially the kids—mocked us, saying we ate well for people who didn’t do anything.”

“Haha.”

“That was infuriating.”

It wasn’t exactly a cheerful story.

But the archer, the hero, and I simply laughed while savoring our food.

It was a rare, warm gathering.

…

But it didn’t stay warm until the end.

Just as we were enjoying dessert—

“Such hearty appetites. Why not lick the plates clean too?”

A man approached us, throwing a sneering remark.

The archer, nibbling her ginger cake, and the hero, sipping wine, both froze and frowned.

If it were just some drunken fool, we could leave him to the restaurant staff.

But the man standing before us wasn’t someone anyone could easily touch.

“It’s been a while, Mage Hyden. Hero Pierrot. And… uh—”

“Lucy.”

“Right. Archer. An elf who was chosen as a replacement because her kin refused to send a warrior to our kingdom. Of course, I remember.”

A man of average height, with a slightly irritable air, stood there.

His blond hair had a reddish tint, and his overly vivid blue eyes sparkled unnaturally. His face was slightly flushed—he had clearly been drinking—and he held a glass of wine in his hand.

Interrupting someone’s meal like this was outrageous. Still, I rose to greet him respectfully.

“An honor to meet Your Highness.”

After all, this man was one of the most distinguished individuals in the kingdom.

Stefano Emanuele.

Second prince of the Kingdom of Alvinia.

The first prince, unable to be crowned as the heir despite being thirty due to his disability, and the princess, talented yet lacking support, were his rivals in the succession battle. He was also a poker enthusiast who spent weekends playing cards with his close associates.

And one more thing.

He was the guy who, last year, tried to imitate me by opening a casino—and completely failed.