Chapter 89

“Er...” Amos wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, still feeling the heat burning his chest, making it hard to breathe. He loosened the collar of his white robe and then simply took off his headscarf.

Though it was the cool of winter, his once dry, curly blond hair was completely soaked with sweat, sticking together in clumps.

“What’s going on? How did I suddenly lose so much?”

Amos remembered the fierce game they had been playing for the better part of the day. He and Roy had been evenly matched, with each of them having their victories. They were practically equals—if he lost, it wouldn’t have been by much!

But after he calmed down and thought about it carefully, he realized that without even noticing, he had lost his entire stake. The right side of the Gwent board, where he had placed his rare cards, was now completely empty, while Roy’s side was covered with colorful cards, gleaming like precious jewels, drawing everyone’s attention.

Amos couldn’t help but feel the sting of it all—he had lost not only the hundred crowns Roy had paid for travel, but also a golden “Vesemir” card and a silver “Necromancy” card.

Those two cards had cost him a great deal of effort to obtain and were nearly impossible to find in the market.

“That treacherous bastard!” He suddenly realized the truth: this seemingly harmless boy had been fishing him in, casting bait after bait to lure him in, only to keep reeling him in. He had been hooked, unable to break free.

“But how old is he? Did he start practicing from the womb?”

Amos shot a glare at the grinning youth opposite him, and recalling their game, he had to wonder if this kid had a knack for mind-reading, or was cheating in some hidden way—always playing the perfect card at the most crucial moment, countering him completely. Amos wasn’t the best player in the world, but he was certainly no slouch.

“Broter Roy, I need to discuss something with you.” Amos no longer had the haughty air he had earlier; now, his tone was more ingratiating, almost pleading.