Mardock Scramble полностью

She was a long way away from certain victory—indeed, her first mini-bank was slowly but surely being eaten away. At the moment it was a case of one step forward, two steps back. But neither were there any unpleasant surprises—it was all going according to their calculations. It was all there for the taking. All there was to do was hope for the best and plow on, best foot forward.

As they were approaching the thirtieth hand, Balot suddenly realized something.

Something was up with the dealer. She tried to pinpoint exactly what.

When her turn came, she thought she would try something to test her observation.

–Hit.

For a moment, the dealer was thrown off-kilter. One of the reasons for this was Balot’s cards.

A queen and 9. Nineteen in total. It was hardly the usual thing to draw on this sort of hand.

The dealer flipped the card over. It was a 2. Balot’s rather irrational move had worked in her favor, and she felt a disturbance in the breathing patterns of everyone at the table.

Her total was twenty-one—her first since sitting down at the table.

The dealer turned over his hidden card, which was a 10.

Total: twenty. Balot was the only one to win. All eyes were on Balot as the dealer calmly paid out her winnings.

It didn’t take long, though, before everyone dismissed it as a fluke and went back about their business.

Balot hadn’t expected to win. That fact probably registered on her face.

She was onto something, though—she was sure of it. As she received her winnings, she thought about it.

Mainly about whether it was something significant, not what the significance was. Not yet, anyway.

–Oeufcoque, there’s something I want to ask you.

–What is it?

–I think the dealer is timing his deals. Aiming for the right moment.

–Aiming?

–Yeah, waiting until the instant we finish fully exhaling before he deals.

So far, it was a fragile hypothesis—had Oeufcoque dismissed it out of hand as ludicrous, she wasn’t sure she would have been able to defend it.

But Oeufcoque’s answer struck an unexpected chord.

–How did you work that out?

As if to say that he was just about to tell her that fact himself. Balot’s suspicions were confirmed, and her vague hunch became a firm conviction that she was onto something important.

–I deliberately took a long breath. He waited for me to finish before dealing.

–Well, seeing as you’ve managed to work that out for yourself, the first stage of our work here is complete. You’re on course to secure victory with your own two hands.

Half of her was delighted by the unexpected words of encouragement and praise, but at the same time she was more discouraged than ever—she seemed so near and yet so far.

–That’s not true at all. I’m losing steadily and I have no idea how I’m going to turn it around.

–Don’t worry. You don’t need to start winning yet. All that’s important at this stage is that you lose in a meaningful way. You’re playing a role in the Doctor’s plan. And you will win yet. With me here to back you up.

Now Balot was fired up again. She felt supported—as if there were a strong pillar inside her, supple and flexible, there to prop her up, unbreakable.

–Now that this hand is over, there’ll be a break.

Hearing Oeufcoque’s words, Balot looked at the card shoe. Sure enough, the clear red marker that she had shoved into the pile of cards was now showing, signifying an imminent reshuffle.

–We’ll move on to the next stage of our plan after the shuffle.

Balot squeezed both her hands tightly by way of reply.

The game halted. The dealer collected all the cards and started the shuffle in a series of smooth movements.

According to the tally that showed in her right palm, a total of twenty-eight hands had been played so far. Balot had only won seven of these. Three were draws, and she had lost the remaining eighteen hands. She was currently down $3,300.

Conversation between the players broke out again.