Ultimate Cash System
Chapter 152: Gambling. (1/2)

Chapter 152: Gambling. (1/2)

After Lukas and Yaho had finished the bowls of noodles that the Manga Café had kindly given them for free, they sat there quietly for a little while longer, savoring the last warm sips. When the clock showed it was nearly lunchtime, Yaho looked over at Lukas and said, "Why don’t we head back to the hotel and grab something there?" Lukas nodded in agreement, folding his chopsticks carefully and standing up. They left the cozy café together and walked down the street toward the Peninsula Hotel, where he was staying.

Once inside the hotel, they made their way to the dining area reserved for premium guests. Lukas took his seat at the polished tablecloth, noticing the soft light of the chandelier overhead and the neatly folded napkin beside his plate. Even though he was staying in the imperial suite, these lunches were not free like the ordinary meals in the hotel had been so far. He briefly thought about the cost—he knew it must be high—but he did not worry.

Lukas leaned back in his chair and looked around the room, imagining how many people would pay a small fortune for this level of service. But for him, it was just part of the trip. He was happy to spend the money without a second thought, especially since every detail of the meal would teach him something new about Japanese food and culture. With that in mind, he picked up the menu and prepared to order, already excited to taste each dish and learn more with every bite.

Lukas and Yaho ate at a relaxed, steady pace, taking their time with each bite because Lukas wasn’t in a rush. The gambling event was scheduled for the afternoon, but even then Lukas planned to place only one bet on a single race before heading back. He didn’t really enjoy gambling all that much.

"Boss, you can go rest up," Yaho said, standing by the table. "I’ll let you know when my manager calls me." She will go along on this trip to the horse racing event to support and see Lukas betting so much. He nodded in thanks, gave her a small smile, and left the dining area. Since he was already full, he decided to return to his suite for a short rest before anything else.

After a short break, Lukas headed down to the hotel’s gym. He spent about half an hour on the treadmill, keeping his pace steady as he warmed up and cooled down. Once he was done, he walked back to his suite and stepped into the shower. The hot water helped him relax and wash away any leftover tension from his workout.

When he stepped out, refreshed and dry, he chose his outfit carefully. He put on a tailored Zegna suit that fit him perfectly, its dark fabric crisp against his shoulders. He fastened a Rolex Day-Date "President" watch with a diamond-bezel variant on his wrist, then tucked a Patek Philippe Lepine pocket watch into his vest pocket. Standing in front of the mirror, he adjusted his tie and smoothed down his hair. He looked every bit the aristocrat he felt like today.

"Damn! Alright," Lukas said to himself, meeting his own gaze with approval. He took a deep breath, satisfied with how he appeared, ready for whatever the afternoon would bring.

After Lukas finished buttoning his jacket and straightening his tie, he sank down onto the soft couch in the corner of his suite. He reached over to the low table beside him and picked up the Japanese edition of Weekly Playboy. Even though the text was all in Japanese, the glossy pages and striking photographs would appeal to any man, no matter where he came from. He flipped through the magazine slowly, pausing now and then to study an image or scan a headline, enjoying the feel of the paper in his hands.

"Damn, Bush That big, it even came out of the panty"

While Lukas was absorbed in the magazine, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He set the pages down and answered—it was Yahoo calling to let him know the car was ready and waiting for him in front of the hotel. Lukas thanked her, ended the call, then stood up and crossed the room to the dresser. He pulled out his favorite bottle of cologne, gave it a couple of spritzes onto his neck and wrists, and took a quick sniff to make sure it was just right.

With the scent settled, Lukas reached for his keys, locked the door behind him, and pressed the button for the elevator. He felt a slight click as the door closed, then relaxed into the smooth descent down to the lobby level. When the elevator doors slid open, he saw the sleek black car parked just outside, its engine humming quietly. Both Yaho and the driver stood beside it, waiting respectfully—just as proper in Japan, where hospitality means greeting the guest first. Lukas paused for a moment, shocked by Yaho’s attention to this custom.

The driver opened the rear door for him, and Lukas stepped gracefully into the plush leather seat. As he settled in, Yaho’s reaction was kind of different; she glanced up, surprised to see him in a full suit, looking tall and sharp. Although she was older than he was, she simply shook her head with a small smile and slipped in behind him. The driver closed the door gently, and the car rolled forward, carrying Lukas toward the afternoon’s event.

The car ride moved along smoothly under the warm afternoon sun of Tokyo. Through the window, Lukas could see office workers winding down their day, heading home on crowded sidewalks. Here and there, small groups of students in uniform laughed as they walked out of school buildings, their backpacks bouncing as they chatted about tests and plans for the evening.

After a few minutes, the car slowed and came to a stop before a tall, heavy steel gate. Across the top of the gate was a simple sign in bold letters: "The Horse Breeder." Because the name was written in English as well as Japanese, even Lukas—who had never been here before—knew exactly where they had arrived. The gate itself looked solid and important, painted dark gray with sturdy bars that showed no sign of prying or rust.

"I guess there must be a lot of foreign visitors coming here," Lukas said to Yaho in the back seat. His voice carried through the quiet interior of the car. Outside, the gate remained firmly closed, and for a moment nothing happened.

Then, two minutes later, a small side door in the gate slid open. A guard stepped out, wearing a crisp uniform and carrying an assault rifle slung casually across his chest. He stood tall and watchful, his eyes scanning the street before settling on the vehicle.

Lukas leaned forward and rolled down his window. As the glass slid down, the guard walked over to the car. When he saw Lukas’s face—a clear sign of his foreign origin—the guard gave a respectful nod and asked in a calm voice,

"Name?"

Lukas glanced at him and then out the window at the guard’s tanned skin. He thought back to his time in Japan so far, noting that most people here seemed to avoid heavy sun tans.

"Lukas, I came by Ichigo’s invitation," Lukas said, his voice steady and confident. The guard studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod and signaled with his hand. With a low rumble, the tightly shut steel gates began to swing open.

Once the gates were fully open, the driver guided the car through the entrance. Inside, the narrow road stretched ahead, flanked on both sides by tall, leafy trees whose branches arched overhead to form a shaded tunnel. Sunlight filtered through the leaves in dappled patches, creating a cool, green-tinged glow around the car as it drove forward.

For the next five minutes, they followed the winding path deeper into the property. Eventually, they reached a large stone building with broad steps leading to its door. A second guard stood there and motioned for them to step out of the vehicle. Lukas nodded to the driver, opened his door, and stepped onto the smooth pavement. Yaho followed closely behind him.

As soon as they were clear of the car, another attendant appeared and ushered them toward a waiting jeep. They climbed in, and the jeep pulled away, bouncing gently as it threaded its way through more twisting lanes. After about ten more minutes, the jeep stopped at a secluded area where a wide, open field lay.

Here, Lukas saw a series of sturdy stables arranged in neat rows, each one housing powerful racing horses. Beyond the stables, a modest grandstand rose up, its seats facing a flat, sandy track. He guessed at once that this was the place where visitors gathered to place their bets on the horses as they thundered around the track. Hidden from the main road and tucked away among rolling fields and low hills, the horse-rearing grounds felt like a secret world reserved for those in the know.

A man stood at the edge of the path with his arms open wide, greeting them warmly as they approached. He was dressed in a sharp suit that fit him perfectly, and a friendly smile spread across his face. His dark hair was neatly combed, and he carried himself with an easy confidence.

"Welcome, my friends," he said in clear English, his voice both polite and lively. "I am Tanaka, your host. Come join us—the race will begin soon."

Unlike the quiet, reserved manner Lukas had come to expect from most people here, Tanaka’s openness felt bright and inviting. He gestured with one hand toward the grandstand, his suit jacket brushing back to reveal a crisp white shirt underneath. Lukas returned the smile with a nod of his head, and Yaho, standing just behind him, gave a small bow of her head in thanks.

Together, Lukas and Yaho fell into step behind Tanaka as he led them along a paved walkway lined with low hedges. The sun shone down on the track ahead, where small groups of spectators were already taking their seats. The sound of horses gently nickering in the stables drifted on the breeze, mixed with the soft murmur of the growing crowd. Tanaka spoke quietly as they walked, pointing out the track’s features and the names of a few favored horses, but always in simple, easy-to-follow English.

When they reached the grandstand, Lukas paused to take in the view: rows of comfortable seats that rose steeply above the track, offering an unobstructed view of the finish line. A light breeze stirred the banners hanging overhead, and the air held a faint scent of hay and leather. Tanaka opened the door to a reserved section and motioned them inside.

"Please, feel free to make yourselves comfortable," Tanaka said, stepping aside. "We have a great view from here."

Lukas and Yaho thanked him once more, and as they took their seats, the excitement in the air grew. All around them, people leaned forward, ready for the horses to thunder down the track. The race was about to begin.

Lukas felt his eyes drawn to a large black horse standing in the center of the paddock. Its coat gleamed like polished obsidian in the afternoon light, and its muscular shoulders and powerful neck made it look every bit the alpha of the group. He could almost feel the horse’s energy crackling in the air as it pawed at the ground, ready for the race. A sudden excitement rose in his chest—this was the one he wanted to bet on.

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, Lukas noticed a small group of men pushing their way through the crowd toward the reserved section. They looked out of place in the well-dressed gathering. Each wore dark jackets, and wisps of cigarette smoke curled up around their heads. Their faces were marked with tattoos—intricate patterns that ran down their cheeks and necks—giving them a dangerous, almost predatory air. They didn’t glance in Lukas’s direction at all; instead, they moved with a quiet purpose, heads down, eyes fixed straight ahead.

Lukas’s heartbeat quickened as he watched them settle into seats a few rows away. He sensed an undercurrent of tension in the way people around them shifted uneasily, as if they, too, felt the men’s silent menace. The contrast between the calm grandstand and these shadowy newcomers made Lukas’s skin tingle.

Softly, almost to himself, he murmured, "So this is the Mafia... or Yakuza?" He wasn’t sure which, but either way, their presence sent a clear message: this race was about more than just winning money. And as Lukas turned his gaze back to the proud black stallion before him, he felt a rush of anticipation.