Dealer's Mage 3

  Nick Nolace

  Copyright © 2026 Nick Nolace

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Shout Out

  Dukes of Harem

  https://www.facebook.com/groups/dukesofharem

  Club Kaiju

  https://www.facebook.com/groups/484560235438701

  Harem GameLit

  https://www.facebook.com/groups/HaremGamelit/about

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Shout Out

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Afterword

  Chapter 1

  I pushed open the door to my penthouse. I stepped into the living area, flicking on the overhead lights. The place looked exactly the same as when I’d left it a few days ago—clean floors, minimalist décor, one large cushy sectional in the center. But it didn’t feel the same. Too much had changed in the span of seventy-two hours.

  Behind me, Mira let out a small sigh of relief as she entered. She’d been through hell after being kidnapped and forced to do ledger work for our enemies. I glanced over my shoulder at her. She tried a smile, but I could see uncertainty in her warm hazel eyes. Mira was the soft-spoken one, but gentle didn’t mean weak.

  Lana was next. She practically glided through the doorway, her raven hair catching some stray reflection from the ceiling lamp. No grin from her either. That was unusual. She normally carried herself with a certain sultry confidence, but at the moment, I saw fatigue in her emerald eyes. She’d been forced into a “charm conduit” role once before, and it nearly broke her. Now she was worried it could happen again.

  Selene came last, quietly shutting the door behind us. She wore a jacket over her usual form-fitting top, her silver-blonde hair tied back in a neat ponytail. I remembered how she used to fuss over messing up her hair in the labs where she worked as a tech-mage. Even if she was shy, she was also a perfectionist. Tonight, she was quiet, but I sensed she had something important to share. She’d been scanning the city’s magical networks for an hour, murmuring something about a “promo event bulletin.”

  We stood in the entryway, sorting out who would move first. Lana cleared her throat and turned to me. “We’re home, I guess,” she said.

  Her words drew a slight grin out of me. “Yeah,” I replied. “We made it.”

  I surveyed the living area. A few days felt like a lifetime. We had lost Minnow, a casino owner, right after discovering a web of deeper threats tied to the local casinos. He died thinking he’d slowed down the system that was draining luck from unsuspecting gamblers. But the table-network enchantments remained. All we’d gained was enough breathing room to get Mira back—thankfully alive and unbranded.

  I slung my jacket onto the couch. “Anyone need a drink?”

  Mira perked up slightly, but she shook her head. “I’m okay, Collin,” she said softly. “I just want to sit.”

  She moved to the far end of the couch, settling in and hugging a pillow to her chest. Lana followed, dropping down beside her in a gentle slump. Selene hovered near the doorway to the kitchen, as though waiting to see what I’d do next.

  I headed for the bar in the corner to pour myself a glass of water—my throat was parched from hours of talking, driving, more talking, and then dealing with the final standoff that rescued Mira. Overhead, the track lighting hummed softly. I figured I’d bring the rest of the group something as well, just to help us refuel. Instead of water, I made a pot of coffee. We had a long night ahead.

  As the coffeemaker started dripping, I turned and leaned against the counter. “Selene, I know you wanted to bring something to my attention about that announcement you saw?”

  She nodded, stepping forward. “Right,” she said. “The hotel’s internal staff bulletin flagged a multi-floor promotional event that’s about to launch. They’re calling it ‘Luck Redistribution.’ Officially, it’s just a marketing thing—giveaways, tiered jackpots, stuff to entice more players. But the magical notes embedded in the staff memo look suspicious. There’s an aspect that’s labeled as a system-wide ‘spell surge.’ Non-optional for every table and machine in the building.”

  I folded my arms. “Sounds too big to be a standard promotional push.”

  Selene’s expression tightened. “Exactly. It references some advanced bridging enchantment. And the bulletin says all staff with conduit or enhancement backgrounds need to check in for assigned scheduling. I haven’t reported Lana as a conduit. Didn’t see a need to. But if someone starts doing an in-depth review, they might realize she’s done that kind of work.”

  Lana’s head snapped up. “I’m not going back to that,” she said, voice steelier than usual. “Whatever system or new event they’re running, I’m not letting them plug me in as a battery again.”

  She’d once worked for the Neon Knives, singing at a club as a front, while behind the scenes they used her innate magical resonance to route stolen luck. I’d helped extricate her from that, but only after she got forced into a conduit harness that drained energy from her night after night. It still haunted her.

  The coffeemaker beeped behind me, so I grabbed a mug and filled it. I passed it to Lana and then poured one for Mira, who’d idly raised her hand. “I can’t see them forcibly reassigning you if we keep your name out of it,” I said to Lana. “But you mentioned the casino put you on a rotating list. Are you worried someone will notice you’re skipping?”

  She nodded, taking a careful sip of coffee. “My manager mentioned I’d be special-featured for high-rollers. That’s not normal for a random singer. They’re targeting me for something, probably the same as before—draining or redirecting gambler luck. But they can’t do it if I don’t show.”

  I sat down on the arm of the couch, near her. “Let’s keep your role hidden. We can treat this entire event as a big math puzzle: a system-wide gambling enchantment that we can sabotage or bend without drawing attention.”

  Mira set her mug on the coffee table. “Not to be the voice of doom,” she said, voice still gentle, “but you know what happens when we tamper with the house’s ledger. The brand—like what happened to me—could jump onto whoever triggers the system’s alarm. If we break the rules, the House Council punishes us. That’s how they enforce compliance, right?”

  Her brand had been a forced marker that let the house see through her eyes, or so we suspected. The kidnappers had used it to rummage for hidden clauses in my accounts, trying to find my vulnerabilities. We were lucky to get her unbound, but it had nearly severed her link to her own magic.

  I exhaled slowly. “We know the risks. But letting the House pile all that luck onto a designated anchor is worse—someone ends up a magical lightning rod. I’m not letting that be you, Lana.”

  She reached up and placed her hand on mine, giving me a grateful squeeze. I patted her shoulder in return. A small sign that we were still in this together.

  Selene cleared her throat, drawing our attention. “I’ll keep an eye on any new bulletins. If the event is mandatory for staff, they’ll keep updating logs about who’s assigned to what. I can try to bury Lana’s name or override it with a generic ‘nightclub singer’ listing.”

  “Do that,” I agreed. “And while you’re at it, see if you can figure out where this event is being routed. We know from Minnow’s fiasco that the city’s gambling economy is structured around big magical networks—table networks, chip enchantments, the works. If they’re funneling luck, there must be a pattern in the ledgers.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Selene said.

  Mira rubbed her temples. “Let’s also remember the overarching pattern here, beating the House in a direct wager only gets you so far. That’s how we keep accidentally hurting ourselves—by playing by their rules. We need to refuse the rules altogether, or we’ll always be outgunned by their enforcement magic.”

  She wasn’t wrong. Every time I’d tried to outdo the House at their own game, I’d ended up winning a short-term advantage followed by a long-term disaster. The House had resources. They had embedded spells in every corner of this neon city. If we didn’t figure out how to topple that system from the inside, we’d be crushed eventually.

  “Agreed.” I stood up and rubbed the back of my neck. “I need to do some deeper analysis. For now, let’s take a few hours to rest. We’ll regroup in the morning. Then we’ll plan how to handle this so-called ‘Luck Redistribution.’”

  Lana set her mug on the coffee table. “I’ll take a shower and try to sleep. If I can.”

  I watched her and Mira head down the hall to their rooms. Selene lingered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other until they were out of earshot. Then she looked at me.

  “You sure you’re okay?” she asked softly.

  I rested my hand on her shoulder. “I’m good. Just t
ired.”

  Her icy blue eyes flicked down. She quietly nodded, then walked away. I stayed behind, letting out a breath. Tomorrow, I’d need my full focus. We might have staved off doom for one night, but the House never slept.

  I fetched my own mug of coffee and went to my bedroom. The city lights glowed through the glass balcony doors, painting the walls with neon shadows. Standing there, I swirled the coffee in my cup, thinking about the partial successes we’d had so far. We’d saved Mira from a brand. Freed Lana from the direct harness. Kept Selene from being blacklisted as a saboteur. But the bigger engine of magical corruption still churned in the city below.

  We had to break it—permanently, thoroughly—before it broke us.

  I drained the last of my coffee, set my mug aside, and let the hum of the city lull me into a restless sleep.

  The next morning, I woke to the pale light of dawn filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The neon brilliance of nighttime Vegas had dimmed into a grayish haze. The sense of looming trouble was still there, swirling in my chest. I pushed out of bed, rubbed my eyes, and stepped into the hall.

  Selene was already up, tapping away on a small tablet at the kitchen island. She was wearing a loose hoodie over her usual snug jeans. She glanced up when she heard me approach, but didn’t smile. “Morning,” she said, voice low. “Just got into the staff network. Wanted to keep you updated.”

  I grabbed some leftover coffee and leaned against the counter. “Hit me.”

  “Looks like they finalized the schedule for the event. They’re rolling it out on multiple floors—slot machines, table games, even the special VIP lounge. There’s mention of a promotional tie-in for the resort’s nightclub. I’m seeing references to staff assigned to ‘variance channeling’ tasks, but no mention of Lana’s name. I replaced it with a random session singer from out of town. That might raise questions if someone does a deep check, but hopefully not soon.”

  “Good.” I took a sip of lukewarm coffee. “Keep it that way.”

  Just then, Mira stepped in from the hallway, still dressed in her sleep shirt and leggings. Her brown hair—the color of chestnuts—looked slightly tousled. She brushed it back from her face. “Smells like old coffee in here,” she said with a soft laugh. Eyeing my cup, she wrinkled her nose. “I’ll make a fresh pot.”

  I let her. While she fiddled with the coffeemaker, Selene showed me portions of staff memos on her tablet. She tapped one line with her finger. “They’re calling it a ‘Luck Redistribution’ drive to ‘celebrate our players and keep the house advantage minimal while we reward your loyalty.’ That’s marketing speak for cheat-weapons. Probably a funnel to draw luck into a single reservoir. They want everyone to blow their bankrolls, while a designated anchor holding the reservoir can be manipulated.”

  “Sounds about right,” I said grimly. “Minnow tried to sabotage something similar. We all saw how that ended.”

  Mira came over, handing me a fresh mug of coffee. “You’re not going to let them take Lana as an anchor, right?”

  “No. Never again.” I set the mug aside. “She had enough of that the first time. But it means we have to find a workaround.”

  “What’s the plan?” Mira pressed softly. “I know you’re good at reading the spells on chips. Maybe if you looked closer at the event’s tokens or receipts, you could figure out the exact pattern. Then we’ll know how to break it.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking,” I agreed. “I have some leftover chips from the other night, plus a few receipts from the cage. Let me rummage through them. We’ll talk when Lana joins us.”

  Mira nodded, looking relieved to have something concrete to do. Selene turned back to her tablet, scanning more lines of code. And me—I tried not to think too hard about the brand or worse possibilities. But I couldn’t help wondering if this event was bigger than we realized.

  We’d find out soon enough.

  Lana woke up about an hour later. We were all at the dining table by then, the four of us with coffee and a small plate of muffins I’d ordered from room service. She looked more rested than before, but there was tension in her posture. Probably the nightmares she’d never admit to.

  “So what’s the next step?” she asked, picking at a muffin wrapper.

  I laid a few chips on the table. “I still have these from the day before Minnow’s last stand,” I said, tapping them. “They’re all from the main pit on the second floor. They might have updated enchantments to support the new event. I can read them if the magic is still active.”

  Reading magical patterns was a skill I’d honed through years of high-stakes gambling and consorting with the city’s underbelly. The House Council saw me as a nuisance, always finding ways around their stacked decks. To them, I was just a gambler with unusual luck. They hadn’t discovered my ability to see the runes swirling inside their chips and ledgers—if they had, I would’ve been branded into slavery by now.

  I spread the chips in front of me, pressed my fingertips to them, and closed my eyes. My mind drifted, and I pictured the swirling lines of arcane code that usually lived in the plastic and metal. The pattern was faint, but I picked out a new energy beneath the standard gambler’s bond. Some new addition was layered on top.

  “It’s definitely been adjusted,” I said, opening my eyes again. “There’s a bridging symbol here that references a central node. It’s drawn as a big funnel. The purpose is to gather the intangible luck from every chip that crosses a table and redirect it into one living anchor.” I shot Lana a glance. “That’s how they do it—like hooking a siphon up to the table network.”

  Her jaw tightened. “Not me. Not again.”

  Selene leaned forward. “This bridging symbol might also show on receipts. If the system logs every transaction, we can confirm the flow of luck goes to a single place. But who is that anchor? Is it definitely Lana? Or could it be multiple people, rotating?”

  I picked up a receipt from my wallet. “Let’s see.” I ran my hand over it, letting my vision slip again. This time, the magical lines were more formulaic: date, time, table ID, a bet notated. I probed deeper, past the normal ledger code, seeking the bridging symbol. “Same funnel,” I said. Then I withdrew, blinking. “So it’s consistent. A single anchor. The House might switch them out, but typically, these big events use one main conduit. They might be setting you up for it, Lana. Or at least that’s the fallback.”

  Lana let out a low hiss. “We need to keep me off their radar.”

  “And we will,” I assured her. “But disabling the key node might be out of the question. We do that, they’ll run a full inquiry.”

  Selene put her elbows on the table. “I proposed a node takedown, but Collin’s right. It’d be too obvious. They’d notice an entire chunk of the system going offline. Then they’d snoop around the staff rosters to see who’s missing.”

  “Which leads back to me,” Lana said.

  I nodded. “We can’t risk that. So our only real option is to sabotage from within the ledger. If we can’t break the funnel, maybe we can diffuse it. Spread the luck so thin that the system can’t pool enough power into the anchor. That means micro-transactions, multiple accounts, lots of small bets—like sprinkling water across a desert instead of dumping an entire bucket in one spot.”

  Mira lifted her brows. “You mean intentionally messing with the ledger?”

  “Yeah,” I said, wincing a bit as I remembered her brand. “I know how risky it is. But we can do it carefully. We’ll make thousands of tiny wagers and route them through diverse channels. The House’s algorithm might see normal fluctuations. If done right, the entire funnel can’t build up the critical mass needed to lock onto an anchor.”

  A small silence followed, broken by the hum of the air conditioner. Finally Lana nodded. “You really think that’ll work?”

  “I do,” I replied, with more confidence than I felt. “We just have to make sure we’re not drawing suspicion. We’ll spread everything out, use decoy accounts, maybe get some random players unknowingly involved.”

  Selene tapped the table. “I can handle timing offsets. That way the system’s pulse never gets a clean alignment.”