Ultimate Cash System
Chapter 153: Gambling. (2/2)

Chapter 153: Gambling. (2/2)

Lukas sat down beside Yaho, settling into the comfortable chair as the sun lit up the open field in front of them. The event was just starting, and all the horses were being walked out one by one for everyone to see. This was a traditional part of the event—it gave people a chance to observe the horses closely before placing their bets. Each horse had a number, and a handler walked them slowly in a circle, giving the crowd a clear view of their build, size, and energy.

Lukas watched carefully, his eyes scanning every detail. But he didn’t just look at the horses—he also focused on the riders. He knew that in horse racing, the rider was just as important as the horse. A skilled rider could make all the difference, even if the horse wasn’t the fastest. The way they sat, held the reins, and connected with the horse mattered more than most people thought. Lukas leaned forward a bit as each rider passed, studying their posture and confidence.

While they were watching, a staff member came by and politely placed a tray of tea in front of them. Lukas thanked him with a nod and picked up the warm cup, the light steam rising into the air. Yaho also accepted her tea and took a slow sip. The tea was calming, its soft scent mixing with the fresh smell of the race ground.

Just then, another group entered the premium section. Lukas noticed them immediately. They were dressed in clean, tailored suits and moved with a kind of sharp discipline. These weren’t ordinary spectators—they looked like high-level corporate people, the kind who came here for business and pleasure at the same time. They spoke in low voices and carried themselves with confidence. Lukas glanced at Yaho, who noticed them too but said nothing.

Then entered the man named Tanaka—the same host who had welcomed them earlier when they first arrived at the gambling grounds. This time, he looked even more formal. He carried a golden tray in his hands, polished to a shine, and walked with careful, measured steps between the rows of premium seats.

He approached each group calmly, stopping first at the section where the Yakuza boss sat. Without a word, the man in the black suit pulled a card from his inner pocket and placed it onto the tray. Tanaka nodded respectfully, then leaned in as the man whispered something into his ear. Whatever was said, Tanaka showed no reaction and simply moved on.

Next, he stopped at the corporate guests. Their leader, a clean-cut man with silver cufflinks and slicked-back hair, did the same—handed over his card and leaned in close. Lukas noticed the quietness, the way neither of them mentioned a horse’s name out loud. It seemed like a private ritual, one done with confidence and control.

Lukas now realized something. These weren’t ordinary bets. This wasn’t the kind of race where you loudly shouted numbers and names. This was private, high-stakes gambling, done only among the highest tiers. The premium section held just three groups—Lukas and Yaho, the Yakuza boss, and the corporation’s head.

When Tanaka finally reached him, Lukas sat more comfortably, then leaned toward the man and softly whispered, "Black horse."

Tanaka smiled politely but then leaned in and whispered back, "Tell me the amount you’re betting."

Lukas blinked once in surprise, but he wasn’t embarrassed. He simply nodded, then said in a calm, firm voice, "1.5 billion yen."

Tanaka’s eyes widened just slightly, a brief flash of surprise breaking through his polite mask. Then, just as quickly, his expression shifted back to a warm smile. He bowed deeply, accepting Lukas’s card with both hands, and placed it gently on the tray beside the others.

Without another word, Tanaka turned and walked away, the golden tray balanced carefully in his grip, his back straight and movements smooth as ever.

Then, a woman entered the grandstand area. She was Japanese, but unlike the others dressed in formal suits, she stood out instantly—wearing a bright bikini and holding a fan of colorful cards in both hands. Her presence added a flashy and almost theatrical touch to the otherwise quiet, tense atmosphere.

She walked with confidence, heels clicking softly on the polished floor, and headed first toward the side where the Yakuza boss was seated. The men there chuckled and teased her a little, tossing a few casual remarks her way, but none of them crossed the line. The woman laughed lightly, clearly used to such attention, and gracefully offered the cards. The boss picked a blue-colored card without much hesitation.

Next, she turned to the corporate group. They were more reserved, speaking in low voices, but even they couldn’t hide their interest in her dramatic entrance. One of them reached out and selected a card from her hand, nodding with a practiced smile.

Finally, she came over to Lukas. She was still smiling as she stopped in front of him, her colorful cards fanned out like a game.

"Horse number with color—pick one for yourself to bet on," she said cheerfully, her voice clear and practiced, like someone used to being on display.

Lukas nodded quietly, not saying much. He reached out, looked over the fan of options, and chose the black-colored card marked with the number 3.

The woman gave a playful nod, as if pleased with his choice, then turned away and walked off to prepare for the next step of the event. Lukas held the card in his hand and looked at it for a moment. Number 3. Black. The same horse that had caught his attention from the beginning.

Then, the horses came out again and began a final lap around the track—one last warm-up before the official race began. Dust kicked up behind their hooves as they trotted along the outer edge, muscles rippling under their glossy coats. The sun shone down gently, casting long shadows over the 800-meter racecourse.

The rules were simple: one lap, no more. Whoever crossed the finish line first would win.

The crowd in the normal grandstands grew loud with excitement as the horses approached the starting line. People stood up, some shouting out names or numbers, while others waved flags or clutched their tickets tightly. Energy buzzed through the air like static.

From the premium seats, the Yakuza boss leaned back with a pleased grin when he spotted the horse wearing a blue saddle on the field. Clearly, that was his pick—and he seemed confident.

Lukas’s eyes stayed locked on the black horse he had admired earlier. But as he studied it more closely, his eyebrows slowly furrowed. Something didn’t feel right. Then, it hit him—

The black horse he had just bet on was wearing a green saddle.

His heart sank slightly as he scanned the track again. Off to the side, another white horse—nearly identical in build—was wearing blue. That was the one he had not seen earlier.

"Damn... They should provide a guide," Lukas muttered under his breath. His voice wasn’t loud, but Yaho glanced at him for a second.

He wasn’t angry exactly, just a bit thrown off. He felt misled—not by anyone directly, but by the system of it all. In a place this grand and organized, how could there be such a simple mistake?

Still, he sighed and leaned back in his seat. The race was about to begin, and all he could do now was watch.

The race began with a sharp whistle cutting through the air. In an instant, the horses burst forward like arrows released from tightly drawn bows. Their hooves pounded against the dirt track, sending clouds of dust into the sky. The crowd roared with excitement, their cheers rising as the race charged into full motion.

But this wasn’t a formal derby—there were fewer rules, and the pressure was higher. Some riders grew reckless, pushing their horses hard. A few even ignored racing etiquette, cutting close to others. In the chaos, one horse’s legs buckled only seconds in, throwing off the balance of a nearby racer and causing gasps from the grandstand.

Lukas’s eyes stayed locked on the horse wearing the green chafron—his number 3. At first, his heart leapt. Number 3 surged ahead, breaking past two competitors and taking the lead for a solid stretch of the track. His grip tightened on the armrest as adrenaline rushed through him.

But that joy was short-lived.

In the final stretch, Lukas could see the horse begin to lose steam. Its stride grew uneven, and two others pushed past it with a burst of speed. Lukas leaned forward, hoping it might recover—but it didn’t. By the time they crossed the finish line, number 3 had slipped all the way back into the middle of the pack.

"You just lost one and a half billion yen—damn!" Yahoo! she said, her eyes wide in disbelief. She stared at him, waiting for a reaction.

But Lukas just smiled.

In front of his eyes, translucent text appeared like always. The system had activated.

[Mission Completed. Grade: S, gambled $14,000,000. Reward: $28,000,000]

Lukas leaned back slowly, still smiling. Yaho had no idea what just happened—she only saw a loss. But Lukas had just doubled his money. And for him, the real gamble had always been being part of something bigger.

"Okay, let’s go," Lukas said calmly as he stood up from his seat.

Yahoo nodded and followed behind him without a word. The two of them exited the premium stand together, walking past the rows of seats now filled with people cheering and discussing the race’s result.

Just as they stepped outside, the bikini-clad woman from earlier appeared again, this time holding a fresh set of colorful cards with different numbers printed on them. Her smile was still bright, and she approached the guests who were lingering near the entrance, offering the new cards with the same practiced charm.

Lukas glanced at her briefly, then looked beyond—he could see another group of horses being prepared on the field. Their handlers moved quickly, tightening saddles and adjusting reins as the next race was about to begin.

But Lukas simply shook his head. He had no interest in placing another bet today. The excitement, the tension, the risk—it had all been enough for one afternoon. He was done.

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