IC C13

Chapter 13

“…”

“Forget that for now. Tell me what happened—why did you collapse? Are you sick?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t.”

Siwon lowered his legs off the bed. Lei Jun stood too, stepping closer.

“Hey, don’t move so quickly. Aren’t you dizzy?”

“I’m fine. More importantly, your questioning is over, right? Nothing happened?”

“Yeah.”

“What did they ask you?”

“Nothing much. I was only called as a witness. They just wanted to know if there had been anything unusual about Zhang Yuren while I was at the table with him. I told them the truth—he looked a little tired, maybe, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.”

“They said the cause of death was… heart attack.”

Siwon clenched the sheets in his fists. The word heart attack sounded cold and unnatural on his tongue, especially after the thought that he himself might have played some part in Zhang Yuren’s death. Lei Jun, however, replied lightly.

“I was a little surprised too. Didn’t seem like such a weak man. Had I known, maybe I should’ve gone easier at the tables yesterday.”

“…”

Even if Lei Jun had a playful personality, joking about someone who had just died was not appropriate. But Siwon was too drained to point it out. His head spun.

He pressed his temples with one hand, sinking into thought.

So… what exactly was Baeksa‑pa’s scheme in making him steal transaction records? How useful was information about someone exchanging 10,000‑denomination chips a hundred times, and why—of all people—did one of them, Zhang Yuren, collapse so suddenly afterward?

All the doubts he had tried so hard to suppress rose up again. He could no longer ignore them. His thoughts raced out of control.

Could it be… Baeksa‑pa…

But at that, he shook his head fiercely. Before he fainted, he had been convinced that Zhang’s death must have been their work—and worse, that he himself had abetted it. But thinking rationally, it was impossible. Even Baeksa‑pa couldn’t magically cause a heart attack. An assault maybe—but this had to be coincidence.

Even if he set Zhang’s case aside, Baeksa‑pa’s mission still stank. He could no longer pretend otherwise.

“Lei Jun.”

“Mm?”

“Have you ever…”

If anyone might have some insight, it was Lei Jun. A dealer, the face of the casino, and already outstanding among his peers. But suddenly, Siwon realized this wasn’t the sort of thing to discuss inside Sovereign’s walls.

“…Forget it. I just want to go back to the dorm. I need rest.”

The words faltered before they left his mouth. Lei Jun seemed to notice but answered gently,

“Alright. I’ll call the medics in again. Let them check your vitals, and if everything looks good, we’ll head back. Okay?”

“…Yeah.”

Lei Jun’s tone was so soft, almost like soothing a child, that it threw Siwon off balance.

After a quick follow‑up by the paramedics, Siwon left the infirmary alongside Lei Jun.

“You okay, Wei? Can you walk on your own? Do you want me to help you?”

“…I’m fine.”

“Don’t be shy. I could carry you if I have to.”

“Carry me? Who do you think you’re carrying? I’m not an invalid, you know.”

Siwon looked incredulous. As if that lean body could lift a grown man like him.

“You are an invalid. You fainted.”

“It was just a dizzy spell.”

“Most people would call that being a patient.”

“Didn’t you hear the paramedics? They said I’m fine.”

Even so, Lei Jun’s fussing didn’t stop once they reached the dorm. He pushed Siwon gently toward the bedroom.

“Lie down. I’ll make you porridge.”

“No, I don’t need dinner.”

“You need to eat, sick or not.”

“I told you, I’m not sick.”

It wasn’t illness, only lack of appetite. Lei Jun all but dashed off to the kitchen—half seriously, half playfully—and Siwon stopped him.

“Just let me rest, okay?”

“…If you say so. Alright.”

Only then did Lei Jun back off.

Alone in the room, Siwon lay down again. The infirmary bed hadn’t been bad, but his own here was far more comfortable. Not even a space he could call his own, but still—oddly homey.

Through the crack of the door came the sounds of routine life: water running in the shower, the whir of a dryer, the kettle beginning to boil. Mundane noises, strangely soothing.

A few minutes later, Lei Jun returned carrying a teapot and cups.

“Here, have some hot tea, Wei. It’ll relax you.”

“…Thanks.”

This didn’t need refusing. Siwon pushed himself upright and accepted the steaming cup.

Lei Jun sat on the bed opposite, their eyes meeting across the low space.

Siwon toyed with the slightly rough cup. This was as good as an invitation; Lei Jun was wordlessly telling him it was safe to talk if something was weighing on him. Dangerous maybe, but Siwon couldn’t hold back.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. What is it?”

“When you work the cage, sometimes unusual patrons come through. Not difficult ones, not troublemakers. Just… unusual.”

“Well, casinos draw all kinds. What kind do you mean?”

“I mentioned once before—some insist on exchanging into only small chips. Like if they brought 100,000 patacas to change. Instead of taking ten 10,000 chips, they’ll demand twenty 5,000s.”

“They must pack their pockets full.”

“Exactly. What’s the point? Isn’t it a hassle? In the High Limit Zone, you’ll end up betting with large chips anyway. Why not exchange them first?”

“Maybe they’re not here to gamble at all.”

“So then why exchange chips?”

Chips are worth their weight in gold only inside the casino. Step outside, and they’re just plastic. That was the very first rule Siwon had been taught during training.

But Lei Jun contradicted it with a strange look.

“Heh… you’re more innocent than you look, Wei.”

“What do you mean?”

Siwon couldn’t see where he was coming from. Which part of this discussion led him to that conclusion?

Lei Jun explained kindly.

“Think about it. Every chip exchange is recorded in detail. But every bet in a game? Not nearly as much. Which means—inside the casino, nobody truly knows how much any one patron has really spent.”

“I get that, but… there are cameras everywhere. And staff like us, too.”

“Even so. You know it’s impossible to track every single chip from person to person. There are tens of thousands of guests here every day.”

Siwon had to concede. It was true. Sovereign wouldn’t waste time tracking every chip so closely—not when so many people streamed through. And for what reason?

“If you don’t quite get it, let me put it this way. Imagine you’ve got a poor neighbor. Then one day, he shows up in a sports car, wearing a luxury watch. You’d wonder how, right? He says he earned it himself—would you believe that?”

“…Honestly, I’d assume he’d done something shady.”

“Okay. Now—what if he said he hit the jackpot at a casino?”

“…Still suspicious. But at least possible. You can’t dismiss it outright.”

“Right. Now think the other way around. You’ve got a rich neighbor—famously wealthy, pays massive taxes. Then suddenly one day, you hear he’s lost it all. Every last dollar. What would you think?”

“….”

Failed business? Signed a bad guarantee? Those would be the obvious explanations. But if it were that simple, Lei Jun wouldn’t be putting it this way. The mention of “taxes” in particular was deliberate.

At that thought, Siwon’s breath caught. He recalled his first‑day training in the High Limit Zone:

“One more crucial rule: guests must never take chips out of the casino. A single high‑value chip could mean hundreds of thousands gone. They could counterfeit it, or abuse it somehow.”

That rule existed for a reason. Someone had already abused casino chips before. And now, connecting it with Lei Jun’s words, it suggested one conclusion only.

“…You mean… casino chips are used for tax evasion?”