"Gerhardt is truly an impressive Admiral! He actually managed to intercept every single one of Schpeyer's merchant ships in under two hours," Fernand muttered to himself. "But the mind behind such a strategy is even more terrifying—that Swede, Bergsstiern. I truly cannot fathom what he's planning. Good thing we're allies now."

Fernand remained entirely unperturbed, even under the scrutiny of dozens of angry eyes. He spoke in his distinctive voice, "Don't be so angry, gentlemen. This was a gamble you all agreed to." That single sentence pushed the surrounding hostility past the red alert line. Just as they were about to erupt, Fernand’s words reached their ears again: "Here’s a piece of news for free. Schpeyer is bankrupt. All his merchant vessels were just seized, and no garrison anywhere will lift a finger to help him. If you want to take out your frustration, hurry up!" It was as if they had been struck by lightning; everyone froze mid-gesture. Silence descended upon the tavern, broken only by the sound of someone loudly chewing food in the corner.

John sat opposite Fernand. By now, Emilio had been squeezed into a corner by the crowd, but his quick reflexes allowed him to secure most of the food, leaving him without any real complaints.

The door was then thrown open, and someone rushed in, shouting, "Major news!" What he announced was identical to what Fernand had said, lending credence to Fernand's words in the eyes of the tavern patrons. The growing commotion outside gradually filtered in, and they could see many people running in the streets. Unable to remain seated any longer, they rushed out one by one, swept along by the surging crowd. Energetic youths pounded on every door, spreading the shocking news about Hamburg into every corner of the city. And so, Fernand began to feast and drink heartily in the tavern.

Gradually, the money belonging to the tavern patrons transformed into John's stake, which then slowly migrated to Fernand's side. Fernand idly toyed with the small mouse charm before him, glancing occasionally at the pocket watch resting on his chest. It seemed the time was almost right, as Fernand once again allowed that familiar smirk to grace his features.

In truth, Fernand had observed every subtle movement John made with perfect clarity. In the initial rounds, Fernand had intentionally lost to John, purely to gauge his depth and set the mood. As anticipated, when Fernand finally made his move, his opponent was utterly incapable of defending himself.

Fernand spoke without haste, "Miss Magritte isn't yours alone; she favors me, so what right do you have to interfere?"

Fernand finished counting the silver coins, tucking them into his pouch, and then placed five back on the table for the drinks. He stared at the coins in his hand for a long moment, murmuring to himself, in a voice only he could hear, "My gambling skill is truly unmatched in this world! Why did I lose to that girl, Liru, last time? She clearly knows nothing. Now I have to call her Captain. Or maybe her luck was just too extreme. Thinking about it, to attract an enemy like Schpeyer and yet have someone spontaneously offer help—where else can you find luck that good!"

A few hours earlier, he and Emilio had left the Mayor's house, and Emilio had immediately started complaining of hunger. Fernand promptly took him to a small tavern in the city. The beautiful barmaid, Magritte, spotted him the moment he entered, casting aside other patrons to rush over and greet him. Fernand offered Magritte a warm kiss and found a vacant spot. He asked the barmaid to bring as much food as possible, along with two dark beers. The moment Emilio saw the delicious spread, he forgot everything else and began devouring the food with gusto. Fernand, meanwhile, completely charmed the barmaid in under two minutes.

Fernand gestured toward the street with his chin. "If you don't believe me, go ask the dockworkers. News like this always travels fast."

Magritte, naturally unwilling to see her heart’s desire fooled, immediately jumped in to defend him: "John! I forbid you from bullying him. If you do this, don't bother coming here for a drink again." However, Fernand seemed utterly unconcerned, even pleased that he had company to alleviate his boredom.

Half of what these people assumed was true; this gamble was indeed a game of cat and mouse, but the cat was Fernand, and the mouse was John. Poor John, though he finally understood his predicament, was forced to continue playing the mouse.

The surrounding patrons exposed malicious smiles upon hearing John speak this way. Everyone present was intimately familiar with John’s reputation; anyone who gambled with him would be stripped bare of everything within ten minutes.

In the now-empty tavern sat two customers; everyone else, including the proprietor, had rushed off to Schpeyer’s residence. Fernand counted the silver coins in his hand, tossing a few peanuts into his mouth. Emilio, beside him, was dreaming happily, patting his bulging stomach. "Delicious, so delicious," Emilio occasionally mumbled in his sleep. Fernand couldn't help but grumble upon hearing it, "That blockhead, all he ever thinks about is food. I shouldn't have brought him along." Of course, it was just a complaint; Fernand had never once considered abandoning him. "Forget it. He’s worked hard running around with me these past few days; he deserves a good rest." Fernand continued to leisurely crunch on peanuts, utterly unaffected by the earth-shattering shouts outside. In fact, he was the primary culprit behind the entire uproar.

A burly man, entirely composed of muscle, initiated the confrontation first. He slammed a hand onto the table, causing the glasses and plates resting there to jump and clatter incessantly. The strongman boomed in a loud voice, "Young man, Miss Magritte isn't just yours. If you want to get close to her, you’ll have to ask my fists first."

The onlookers were convinced that John was about to take on this arrogant upstart. After winning a few rounds, they deliberately lost a hand to whet his appetite, reasoning that the young man would eventually lose everything down to his underclothes and never dare return. Some meddlesome patrons even lent John their own money to gamble, hoping to make a quick profit.

The man whose hand had been reaching toward Fernand’s head licked his dry lips, still unable to believe what he had heard. John suddenly sneered, "You’re using Schpeyer as a shield, hoping to trick us so you can walk away with the money, is that it?" Several sharp-witted individuals also caught on, and those who had been frozen like puppets just moments before now seemed released from a spell and surged forward aggressively.

In this final hand, John lost all his money, finally earning his release. The onlookers also grasped what had happened: this boy, pursuing Magritte, had cheated them out of all their money. The newly sobered patrons used their sheer numbers to surround Fernand; unless he could transform into a fly, escape was absolutely impossible.

The two played several hands of cards, and John won every single one, leading the crowd to mock Fernand. Fernand pulled the last silver coin from his pocket and placed it by Magritte's lips. The girl was watching him with concern. "My beautiful angel!" Fernand’s voice sounded as sweet as a harp to his lover’s ears. "Kiss this coin. It is all I have left. Bestow a little of your good fortune upon this poor, lovesick fool." He spoke with such passion that not only did the coin receive the girl's kiss, but the coin's owner did too. As a result, this time, Fernand truly won. Magritte was ecstatic, believing her kiss had infused her lover with strength. John clearly thought otherwise, suspecting his card switching during the previous hand hadn't been slick enough, resulting in his failure. The watching patrons figured John must have intentionally let the opponent win to save face for Magritte. Everyone agreed to one final showdown. This time, John was one hundred percent certain of victory, yet he lost again.

John desperately replayed the previous moments in his mind. Once assured it wasn't his own error, he finally considered one possibility: his opponent was a far more skilled cheater. However, he was unwilling to give up. He wanted to catch his opponent red-handed on the spot so he could mock him, so he continued to gamble. Yet, to his surprise, this time he won. John was utterly confused—was his own skill faltering, or was the opponent playing tricks?

"You are no match for him. Stop embarrassing yourself." The person who intervened was a sharply dressed young man, yet he appeared disheveled from head to toe: his hair was a mess, his clothes rumpled, the buttons on his coat were mismatched, and his trousers were too long, crushed beneath leather shoes that hadn't seen cleaning in half a month. However, he looked rather benevolent. "My name is John, and I don't agree with settling disputes with fists either. How about we gamble instead?"

The strongman, knocked to the floor, lay stunned for a long moment before snapping back to reality. Seeing everyone watching his humiliating posture, his face instantly flushed crimson. Enraged and ashamed, he lunged forward to beat Fernand senseless, but someone restrained him.

Fernand maintained his smile and said, "Then allow me to address your fist." The moment the words left his lips, Fernand grabbed the strongman’s right hand and hurled him to the floor. Before the surrounding crowd could process what had happened, Fernand straightened his clothes and returned to his seat to drink.

When Magritte began flirting with Fernand in an exceptionally sweet and tender voice, some of the patrons could no longer stand it. Half of this tavern’s success was due to Magritte, and seeing her utterly infatuated with some unknown fellow naturally stirred resentment. Some people set down their mugs, while others crowded closer to Fernand’s table.

Then, he forcefully shook the dreaming Emilio awake and dragged him toward the docks, ignoring Emilio’s muttered complaints, which were invariably grievances about the lack of food. He told Emilio, "Since the streets are empty now and everyone is out chasing the excitement, we need to slip away quickly. But the docks will surely be deserted; getting the ship moved with just the two of us won't be easy. Emilio, you have work to do. You need to burn off that meal, or you’ll get even fatter... Ah, there's the boat."

The strongman seized Fernand by the collar, yanking him up from his seat, thrusting his face inches from Fernand's and declaring, "With this!" Magritte shrieked, and everyone in the tavern instantly converged around them.