-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: An Eye for an Eye (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The term 'VIP' wasn't in use yet, but the tradition of giving special treatment to important customers dates back to ancient times.
They call them 'important customers,' but they're really just 'suckers.' Not that it matters if the person being fleeced doesn't know it.
They just curse their bad luck for the day, complaining that the cards aren't falling their way, all while getting cleaned out.
Anyway, seeing him playing cards at a prime table like that, he must be a pretty high-value sucker. I can't help but wonder about his status.
Pretending to know nothing, I called James over and pointed to the central high table.
"Who are those people playing cards at that nice-looking table over there?"
"They must be wealthy or high-ranking individuals. Looking closely, that gentleman over there seems familiar…"
While James stared at the man being fleeced like a sucker, trying to place him, the gambling den's manager stepped in to explain.
"Just as the gentleman said, that's where our important clients enjoy their games. We take extra care in treating our more esteemed guests."
He must have misspoken. He meant they take extra care in fleecing them.
Of course, strictly speaking, the claim that they take 'extra special care' probably isn't a lie.
If word got out that they were cheating powerful members of society out of their money, they'd be lucky to keep their lives.
They have to be meticulous and take extra care with their scheme to ensure they're never caught.
From that perspective, I suppose you could say these guys have some serious nerve.
Or they could just be fools who've lost all sense of fear, but that seemed unlikely.
They've likely exploited a psychological blind spot in those from the upper echelons of society.
The perfectly natural psychological luxury of thinking, 'Surely no one in the world would dare to cheat me.'
Their patience, exploiting that opening by not taking too much at once but slowly and steadily bleeding them dry, is certainly commendable.
Most amateur cheats can't control themselves and end up getting exposed.
"So, is that gentleman over there extremely wealthy? He must be a millionaire, right?"
"Not necessarily. As I mentioned, we consider not only wealth but also social standing."
"Social standing?"
Before I could even finish my question, James, who had been staring intently at the table, snapped his fingers as if he'd finally remembered.
"Ah! I know him, Young Master. I remember now. That is Lord Charles Wellesley."
Wellesley? Where have I heard that before? The name is definitely familiar.
As I tilted my head in thought, James quickly added an explanation.
"It's natural you wouldn't know, Young Master. Lord Charles Wellesley is the second son of His Grace Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington, hero of the Battle of Waterloo. For your reference, the Duke of Wellington is the current Prime Minister and was the rival of France's Napoleon, who once plunged all of Europe into a crucible of fear. You can think of him as the British hero and great general who ultimately defeated him."
Aha. No wonder the name sounded so familiar. So *that* Wellesley was *the* Wellesley.
Even those who don't know the name 'Duke of Wellington' can easily grasp how formidable he is when told he's the man who defeated Napoleon at Waterloo.
The victory over Napoleon is a story Britain has milked dry, reheating and serving it up again and again even into the modern era. One can only imagine how it was treated back then.
Though his political skills didn't match his military prowess, causing his popularity to wane in his later years, he is still, without a doubt, one of the biggest figures in the British Empire, easily ranking among the top.
"If he's the son of such a hero, then Lord Charles Wellesley must be quite a man himself, right?"
"I heard he graduated from Eton College and joined the army. He's probably a major by now, I would think."
Graduated from a prestigious public school and enlisted directly into the army.
Just hearing about it, he sounds like a model example of a second son from a noble family on the fast track to the elite.
For someone like Charles Wellesley, enjoying a bit of gambling here is likely nothing more than a hobby, a way to spend a little money.
And this gambling den manages clients like him by siphoning off a reasonable amount of money without getting too greedy.
Good. I've got a perfect grasp of the situation now.
"Huh? But isn't the British Prime Minister the leader of the House of Commons? And aren't those with noble titles unable to be members of the Commons?"
"As sharp as ever, Young Master. That is usually the case, but the previous Prime Ministers of the current ruling Tory Party resigned in succession due to health issues. So, the Duke of Wellington had no choice but to take over leadership of the party. I'm not sure if you've heard, but your father, the Earl, is also a member of the Tory Party."
"I understand. So, in short, that man over there is the second son of our party's leader?"
I was already thinking I needed to forge some connection to British central politics for my future, and now such a perfect opportunity has appeared.
If I let a chance like this slip by, I'd deserve to be called the world's biggest fool.
"By the way, Young Master. Now that you've had a look around, shouldn't we be heading elsewhere?"
"No, wait. Since we're here, it would be good to at least greet him, right? Even as a second son, being the Duke of Wellington's son means he'll easily secure a seat in the House of Commons later on."
"True. That's a good point. But even from a distance, it looks like his game isn't going well. Approaching him when he's in a bad mood might just leave a poor impression."
"That's why I have to pick the right moment. I'll follow him when he goes to the restroom to say hello, so you wait here, James."
James smiled as if proud of me for already being so sharp and discerning, then found a suitable spot and ordered a glass of Irish whiskey.
There were no laws against minors drinking yet, but because I was so young, I was served a warm mulled wine with most of the alcohol burned off.
As I was casually enjoying the taste and watching Charles Wellesley lose money, I saw him click his tongue in frustration and stand up from his seat.
"Damn it, I thought I was on a roll after that big win last time, but I've lost it all today. I'm going to the washroom to clear my head. We'll play a few more rounds when I get back."
"Winning some, losing some—that's just how cards are, isn't it? Take your time, sir. Hahaha!"
"Alright. You just wait right there. Why are my hands so bad today? Tsk."
As I got up to follow the bitterly smacking Charles Wellesley, James gave me a wave of encouragement.
After all, the me that James knew was a novice who had only been learning English for a few months, no matter how gifted I was with languages.
In fact, even with James and my tutor, I still made a point of using only the simplest words to carry on a conversation.
When a more professional discussion was needed, I would intentionally switch to the Qing language to hide my true English proficiency.
With this setup, it would be harder to be rude even if I wanted to, and anyone who knew my situation would just find it cute. He didn't seem worried at all.
Well, our conversation would be entirely different from his expectations, but there was no need to tell him that, was there?
I gave him a thumbs-up in response and quickly followed Charles Wellesley.
And I walked right up behind Wellesley, who was washing his hands with a sour expression, and greeted him.
"Good evening, Lord Wellesley."
"Hm? What is it, do you know me? And who is your guardian, bringing a child to a place like this?"
"It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Killian Gore, eldest son of Sir Arthur Gore, the Earl of Arran."
"The Earl of Arran? Who… Ah, I remember now. My apologies. He was the member for County Donegal before inheriting the earldom. But did he have such a young son? This is the first I'm hearing of it."
"Yes. There are some complicated circumstances. But I am, without a doubt, the Earl of Arran's eldest son. My butler is here as well; he can vouch for my identity."
"Hmm, well, alright. Whether he has a son or not is no great concern of mine. In any case, Killian, you said? It's a pleasure, truly, but unfortunately, I'm a bit busy at the moment and don't have time for a long chat. Please tell the Earl I'll pay my respects later."
Wellesley gave my head a cursory pat and turned to go back to the table.
He was in the middle of losing money at gambling when a ten-year-old kid started talking to him; of course, he wouldn't be in the mood to take it seriously.
If anything, I should probably praise him for his aristocratic grace in acknowledging me at all.
But after hearing this, could he really just walk away?
"Excuse me, but my butler, who came with me, says that you, Lord Wellesley, are being cheated."
"...What did you say?"
Just as I thought. No one in the world, having just lost a pile of money, could simply walk away after hearing something like that.
Wellesley froze on the spot, his body stiff, and slowly turned back towards me.
The awkward smile from before was gone without a trace, replaced by a rigid expression as he asked.
"What grounds do you have for saying such a thing?"
"He said the dealer is subtly manipulating the cards dealt to you, Lord Wellesley, to control the outcome."
"Ridiculous. If that were true, I would have noticed long ago. I've been playing cards here for ages."
"You won't believe me no matter how I explain it, so I'll show you proof. If I keep my glass in my hand instead of putting it on the table, it means the dealer is manipulating the cards in that round. And naturally, you, Lord Wellesley, will lose without fail. Correct?"
After I'd said that much, he had nothing to lose by checking.
As expected, Wellesley took several long breaths to calm himself before nodding.
"If you're so certain, I'll check it out. But first, let me ask a few things. You said the butler who came with you sent you? Why didn't he come and tell me himself?"
"If he did, the managers here might think something is strange. I'm just a child, so no one will be suspicious of me, right? That's why I came instead."
"I see. But if they really are cheating, there's something that doesn't add up. I won money here just a few days ago. Quite a lot, in fact. If they were truly cheating me, would they have let me win like that?"
"You felt amazing when you won that large sum, didn't you? According to my butler, that's their method. They let you win big once in a while, then they collect it all back, with interest, over several sessions. And once you've had a taste of that high from a big win, you get hooked and keep coming back to the gambling den. It's all a carefully calculated scheme."
Of course, James had never said a word of it, but an analysis from an Earl's butler would be far more credible than that of a mere child.
Once my words are proven true, I can just tell him it was all my idea.
"Those sons of… If what you're saying is true, I won't let these bastards get away with it. I'll see to it they all rot in prison. Fine, let's go confirm it right now!"
"Ah, wait a moment. I should mention, just in case, that even if my signals are all correct, you must not show any sign that you know. And of course, you can't let on that you've realized it's a scam."
"What? Are you telling me to just let them cheat me? Why?"
"Aren't you furious, Lord Wellesley? That those presumptuous fools dared to cheat the great Lord Wellesley and bleed him of his money?"
As if he never expected such a question, Wellesley momentarily forgot his anger and blinked blankly.
"Of course I'm furious. That's why I'm going to take them down."
"But that's not enough. At best, they'll deny it to their dying breath."
"Still, I have enough power to ruin this gambling den."
"But then, all you'd get back is the money you've lost so far, at best. Can you be satisfied with that? With scum like this, wouldn't it be more satisfying to give them a taste of their own medicine? As it happens, my butler has a brilliant plan."
"Give them a taste of their own medicine?"
Wellesley took the bait, and his eyes changed completely.
I met his gaze and made him an offer he couldn't possibly refuse.
I did say that once you get a taste of winning big, you get hooked and can't escape, didn't I?
So this time, I'll have to administer that high myself.
Dozens of times stronger than what those amateur swindlers gave him. It'll probably be quite euphoric.