Mr. Roland did not look at Shade's cards; instead, he took his glass from the bartender who had delivered the drinks.
"Although I believe I could best the knights of the North, a few small matters arose at home during the autumn, so I was unable to make the trip. In truth, I had intended to go."
Only after speaking did he notice that everyone was staring at the table. The middle-aged bartender in his apron, having finished serving the drinks, did not leave immediately. Instead, he glanced at the table and patted the poet's shoulder with a smile.
"Mr. Roland, it seems you've finally met your match this time."
Only then did the poet look down. Shade's three cards on the table were the Moon 2, Flower 11, and Sun 8, totaling 21 points.
"Such a thing is possible?"
Mr. Roland muttered in surprise, but he didn't say much more. Instead, as if struck by inspiration, he jotted a few lines in his notebook and then signaled that Shade could proceed to the second round.
"I saw a photograph of that Great City player champion in the newspaper," the poet said casually, drawing the first face-down card of the second round. "For some reason, none of the newspaper photos of that knight from Delarion are front-facing."
"I know about that."
Shade also took his face-down card. "I've heard people say that although the gentleman is the champion, he personally detests gambling and views Rhode cards merely as a hobby. Therefore, upon hearing that the underground casinos were offering odds on the champion during the Great City tournament, he decided not to show his face in the papers to prevent his reputation from being tarnished."
"What a man of noble character," Mr. Roland praised. After confirming that Shade also wanted a third card, he continued drawing. Shade smiled.
"After all, he is the only titled knight of this era in Delarion."
"Karsenrich hasn't knighted anyone with a title for many years either. That Hamilton of Reged is probably the only true knight of this era. I'll stay at 19."
Mr. Roland flipped his cards: Flower 9, Flower 1, and Star 9.
He looked at Shade expectantly, but Shade requested a fourth card.
"I'm actually quite curious, Mr. Roland. Since your luck is so good, why don't you go to a casino and make a fortune for yourself, so you can have more time to write poetry? Translation work for a bookstore probably doesn't pay very much."
"Because translation work is interesting in itself. The *Collected Detective Stories of Hamilton* we've been translating recently is a wonderful book," Mr. Roland replied. He then saw Shade flip all his cards: Sun 4, Sun 10, Star 1, and Flower 5. 20 points—just one point more than Mr. Roland.
The poet shook his head helplessly.
"Aside from the work being interesting, it's also because I'm afraid of meeting people like you."
He took a large gulp of wine and said, amidst the cheering of the surrounding crowd, "I'll keep playing. It seems I really have met my match today."
The third round continued. As Mr. Roland drew his cards, he explained, "Well, back to the point. I don't gamble in casinos partly because I am a decent man, and partly because I believe that luck comes with a price."
"Mr. Roland, I'd gladly pay the price if I could have your luck," joked a bearded man standing beside the poet, a brown leather belt tied crookedly around his waist. But Mr. Roland did not laugh; he reached out and took his second card.
"If you were me, you probably wouldn't think that. Luck truly demands a price."
Shade noticed his expression was somewhat strange, but before Shade could delve deeper into the topic, Mr. Roland revealed the card in his hand.
"Look, I've drawn a Special Card. Star 1, [Karsenrich Horror Story: Jack the Headless Horseman]. When this card is drawn, if the opponent's first face-down card is also of the Star suit and the number is less than or equal to 5, the player may choose to forcibly reduce the opponent's total points by one."
The onlookers immediately broke into excited conversation; the appearance of a Special Rule card was always thrilling.
Shade leaned in slightly, interested in the card's artwork. The image wasn't particularly terrifying; it depicted a headless knight in armor standing in a graveyard, with three moons behind him, holding his own helmet in his hand. Since it didn't show whether there was anything inside the helmet, the scene looked only slightly eerie.
"The Karsenrich Horror Story series?" Shade asked with a smile. This series had begun selling twenty years ago and had been reprinted four times to date. Corresponding to it was the [Delarion Horror Story] series. These Special Rule cards compiled traditional horror stories and modern urban legends from both countries.
Due to the uniqueness of their artwork, they were fervently pursued by a small group of Rhode card enthusiasts. Not to mention the Special Rule cards; even cards with relatively common special artwork were priced above the average for special Rhode cards of the same type and era.
Of course, although Mr. Roland drew a Special Card, he eventually busted and lost to Shade's 18-1=17 points.
In the following six rounds, the poet also fully displayed his luck, drawing another Special Card of his own: Star 7, [Modern Girl: The Tavern Maiden]. The artwork showed the profile of a languid young woman sitting alone at a tavern counter under a gas lamp, holding a goblet.
The effect was to roll a 20-sided die; if the result was 1 or 20, the card's value could be adjusted between 6 and 7.
Yet, despite drawing Special Cards, the poet Mr. Roland did not win a single game out of the nine rounds; there wasn't even a draw. This was highly abnormal. Even if Shade played against an opponent with average luck, the other party wouldn't have lost so miserably.
"Today is probably not a good day for gambling."
Mr. Roland looked with a bitter face at the Queen Shade drew in the ninth round. Accepting his defeat, he began to rummage through his pocket for banknotes. At the same time, he smilingly ushered away the surrounding crowd, claiming his luck for the day had run out and he didn't want to play anymore.
Once the people had dispersed, the poet pushed the lost money toward Shade and asked tentatively, "Mr. Watson, you didn't just happen to appear here and play cards with me by chance, did you?"
He gave Shade three small silver coins of 1 Orel and several banknotes.
Shade raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Roland, you are very perceptive."
He pushed the coins and notes back. "I have always detested gambling. I only acted as your opponent this time to build a closer rapport with you."
He pointed to the money. "Please take this back, but I have a few questions I would like to venture to ask you."
Mr. Roland narrowed his eyes, studying the young man before him. "You've seen 'Cherub' too?"
"You mean the Lady of the Lake? Oh, no, no, I haven't seen her."
In local folklore, the "Lady of the Lake" had been given many names. The disabled Professor Drake called that lake "Cherub's Lake," so the Lady of the Lake could also be called "Cherub."
"You haven't seen her, yet you truly beat me with skill and luck?"
Mr. Roland was greatly surprised. Shade thought for a moment. "Actually... my luck has always been very good."
As he spoke, he gave his deck a simple shuffle and randomly picked a card to show. The face was the Sun 1.
"However, I did come for the 'Lady of the Lake.' I heard about you from Professor Drake and wanted to understand the details."
"So it was Professor Drake. Yes, I mentioned my situation to the professor while searching for some materials."
Mr. Roland's left hand gripped the handle of the wooden wine cup, and his expression began to relax. "Young man, your luck is already good enough. I advise you not to seek that Lady in the lake."
"I have reasons why I must find her, Mr. Roland. Please tell me about your experiences in the spring. In exchange, you may make any request you wish."
The poet sighed and raised his right hand, which was missing two fingers, to show Shade. "Everything has a price."
"I understand," Shade nodded.
"Do you truly understand?" Mr. Roland smiled bitterly. Seeing that Shade was serious, he nodded. "I've always been unwilling to mention that matter to others again, but since your luck is even better than mine, I suspect you would find out eventually even if I didn't tell you. Very well, I can tell you the specific experience, but you must promise me one thing. If—and I say *if*—you truly manage to meet Cherub, please ask Her on my behalf if she can take back my luck."
The afternoon atmosphere in the tavern was very leisurely. There weren't many customers yet, and after the card players had left, no one paid attention to the two men by the table.
"Take it back?" Shade asked hesitantly. "You paid a price to obtain extraordinary luck; why would you want it taken back?"
"Luck that is too prominent is a burden for a mortal."
Mr. Roland touched his chest with his disabled hand. "I made a wish to Cherub, and she simply took a poem I had written at the time. After returning home, I looked exactly like any other person on the outside, but starting from the spring, I felt more and more clearly as if I were carrying a great mountain on my back. It's as if an old-fashioned steam engine had been fitted with the latest model fuel tank. Sometimes, people simply don't need things they cannot use."
The poet looked at Shade again. The young foreigner wore an expression of understanding. "As a poet, your inspiration must be very high, allowing you to perceive things that ordinary people cannot."
"Yes." Mr. Roland nodded. "Mr. Watson, since you can understand, then come and listen to my story. The story isn't long, but the process is somewhat incredible. I hope you can believe me."
The two ordered more drinks, and the poet began to tell his story.
(End of Chapter)