"I told him that with this mask, he would become Sabo, enjoy the power, and must pay the price. The real Sabo wouldn't give up dignity, making you laugh."
Sabo kicked the corpse away and smiled at Lorenzo, but that smile made Lorenzo shiver; he had never expected this.
"Surprised, aren't you? The real Sabo is a deformity, a dwarf."
Sabo seemed unsurprised by Lorenzo's astonished gaze, as if he's seen such gazes too many times in his life. He's already accustomed to it.
He stretched out his short arms, the piled-up flesh and fragile bones warped his body, with the organs squeezed into this narrow torso. Slightly panting from the sword swing moments ago, his thick fingers struggled to pick up the blood-soaked playing cards. He looked so bloated, yet indifferent.
"I hope you aren't displeased by my stand-in. After all, I am the master of the Green Shark. To rule a gang of desperadoes, a dwarf's body isn't very useful, hard to intimidate subordinates, not to mention I am a Viking... a Viking dwarf sounds ridiculous, doesn't it."
Sabo spoke lightly, clearly a sorrowful matter, yet he spoke as if it wasn't his story.
"Rather than ridiculous, I think it's... magnificent, leading a gang of desperadoes with such a body is quite impressive."
Lorenzo said sincerely.
Sabo didn't feel happy about Lorenzo's praise, instead he replied calmly.
"And you, Mr. Lorenzo Holmes? I'm curious why you are so confident in beating him. Just a slight deviation of the Goddess of Fortune and your head would explode. This is nothing mere luck and fearlessness can achieve."
A gamble on the edge of death, akin to dancing with the Death God, it can only be controlled by pure madness.
"Eyes, his eyes."
Lorenzo pointed to his own eyes, his gray-blue pupils were sharp, reflecting the bloody gambling table.
"That guy wanted to win too badly, wanted it until madness. As a boss, he should cause awe everywhere, but that aura was too weak. I learned acting; he's not a qualified actor, nor a gambler. A real gambler never retreats; the chips are all they have."
Lorenzo had long seen through the stand-in, though he thought it was merely a trivial low-level leader, clearly, the real Sabo's appearance complicated the situation.
"You look like you enjoy gambling, yet I've never seen you in a casino."
Sabo seemed without hostility, washing cards while asking. The music in the hall continued, people immersed in warm prosperity, the death of that stand-in attracted no attention.
"Gambling is a good thing; it can reverse the situation. Even with just one coin, you might win a whole kingdom."
Lorenzo answered while his fingers gently caressed the new Butcher Coin.
"But a friend once told me, luck is a finite thing; the amount of luck one has in a lifetime is fixed. Maybe today you were supposed to be run over by a carriage, but before it hit you, you luckily tripped, escaping the Death God's attack.
Like a soldier on the battlefield, he dodges countless bullets merely because luck is at play, but when it runs out, a fatal bullet takes his life away. That friend was the best gambler I've seen, but he rarely gambled, saying it was to save his luck."
Sabo nodded. He had heard such stories before, but hearing it today gave him a different feeling.
"Your friend, did he win the whole kingdom?"
"No, during a battle, he exhausted his luck. The shattered shrapnel cut into the only gap in his armor, piercing his artery, and the strongest armor became his grave."
Lorenzo spoke slowly, without any change in expression, as if it were just a forgotten past to him.
"I also like gambling, but what I enjoy is that feeling of walking between life and death, retreating whole with the loot before the blade of the Death God falls."
Sabo said, licking his dry lips, a crimson tongue as if his mouth held blood, chaotic teeth resembling a shark, and Eve sat aside not daring to speak. Everything tonight had surpassed her understanding of the world.
"You know, with such deformity, it's hard to find the feeling of being alive in life. Everyone considers you an ominous symbol, no one pays attention to you, but on the edge of death is different. You've crossed paths with the Death God, maybe even brushed against his black robe, and you've survived. That thrilling excitement is amazing, blood boiling, a dead heart starts to beat again!"
Sabo spoke excitedly, his thick hands slammed the table with power, like a deformed gigantic baby, carrying a bizarre strangeness.
"Is that why you lost?"
Lorenzo asked.
"Do you mean this?"
Sabo said, stopping slamming the table, stretching out his hands, those were incomplete palms.
Each palm had missing parts to varying degrees; the entire finger bones severed, leaving two or three fingers above, yet even so, he was still agile, the dazzling card shuffling came from these imperfections.
"Yeah. No gambler doesn't lose, but luckily my opponents were kind people. They left me my thumb and middle finger, so I can still hold a sword... But it doesn't matter, eventually I always win it back."