Dealer's Mage

  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

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  Club Kaiju

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  Harem GameLit

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  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 adjusted the holographic display on the wall of my penthouse living room, scrolling past rows of account balances that should have belonged to people richer than me. Instead, most of them were flagged as “deceased” or “missing.” I stared at the red markers in disbelief. Tournament winners, each boasting bankrolls big enough to make them instant celebrities, had disappeared after they tried to cash out. Gone without a trace.

  The penthouse was quiet, save for the hum of the city’s neon lights outside the tall windows. It was early evening, and I liked keeping most of the lights turned off, letting the soft glow from the skyline do the work. I tapped the display to highlight the most recent winner, a guy named Leopold Carter. He’d pocketed a fortune at last week’s high-stakes invitational. The next day, the system logged his entire account as liquidated. Now the ledger showed him as “in default,” his status set to indefinite hold. Another ghost.

  I ran a hand through my dark brown hair, feeling the tension at my temples. It was too consistent to be mere coincidence. Whoever orchestrated this had a pattern: lure in big players, offer life-changing payouts, then activate some hidden clause that claimed the winners as property. From there, it was easy for them to vanish. It was a rig, but not in the normal sense. I suspected something deeper—magical infiltration. You couldn’t see it unless you knew how to look.

  Spell-reading was my specialty. I could analyze layered enchantments embedded in objects, contracts, or even entire networks. And in this city’s gambling economy, everything revolved around wagers and deals. My talent made me good at spotting the illusions and misdirection that gutted unsuspecting players. It also got me invited to the same games that swallowed them whole. Only difference was, I intended to walk out alive.

  I paced toward the open floor-to-ceiling window that led to my balcony. The city below sprawled in a haze of neon billboards and pulsing signs. The breeze felt humid against my face, carrying the hint of smog from the streets. I felt unsettled, but I needed air to think clearly. Taking a deep breath, I looked out at the monstrous hotel towers that formed the casino complex. They were like fortresses of steel and glass, each harboring its own brand of treachery in the back offices and restricted vaults. So many illusions hidden behind polished marble floors and friendly dealers.

  I stepped back inside to check my messages. An invitation request glowed in my inbox. The next big tournament was scheduled for tomorrow night in the opulent main casino below me. As a VIP occupant of the hotel’s penthouse, I was perpetually on their invite list, but I usually declined—teeny little survival instinct. Now, though, I couldn’t ignore the mounting evidence. People were being snatched, and the city’s underground rumor mill said the house ledger could turn your winnings into permanent servitude at the flick of a pen. I had to see it in action.

  A soft chime sounded at my door. My heart kicked. I quickly slid the display into standby mode, then crossed the living room’s polished wood floor to check the door camera from a side panel. It was Mira, the gentle dealer I’d met a few days ago. She looked nervous, shifting from one foot to the other. Her hair was a soft chestnut brown that fell around her face in subtle waves. Her hazel eyes darted around, scanning the hallway. I opened the door.

  “Collin,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “Can I come in? I need to speak with you.”

  I stepped aside to let her pass. “Sure.” She glanced around my penthouse with quick, anxious looks, as if expecting to find hidden watchers. I closed the door and motioned for her to sit on the leather sofa.

  As soon as she sat, she pressed her hands against her knees and took a shaky breath. “I shouldn’t be here. I’ll get in trouble if they find out.”

  I sank into the chair across from her. “Why risk it, then?”

  She met my eyes. “Because I heard they invited you to tomorrow’s tournament. And I know you… You see things. Magic things that the rest of us can’t. You have to understand, the ledger is lethal. If you lose, you could get marked as a debtor. If you win, you can still get marked as property. The house ledger can do both at once.”

  “Sounds like I’m boxed in,” I said.

  “That’s exactly what they count on,” Mira told me, voice trembling. “But there’s a catch. If you can break the anchor that feeds the ledger its power, the contract collapses. No one’s ever done it, though. Or at least, if they did, they didn’t live long enough to brag.”

  I tapped my fingers on the sofa’s armrest, weighing her words. “I’ve studied enough rigged spells to know one thing: they can’t hide the entire pattern. Sooner or later, they have to refresh it. That’s the moment to strike.”

  She nodded. “Exactly. They re-up the binding during active play, usually when players exchange chips or when the dealer records the pot in the ledger. My job.” She swallowed hard. “Which means I see it happen every day, but I can’t stop it. I’m forced to sign the ledger, forced to watch lives unravel.”

  “You’re under duress,” I said gently. “Makes sense. The house wants a face that players can trust. A ‘gentle’ dealer, right?”

  Mira stared at her hands. “I’ve been paying off a debt for years. They keep adjusting the terms. If I try to run, the brand triggers… it hurts. They can track me. I’m stuck.”

  I felt a surge of anger. This was exactly why I needed to do more than just skip town. People like Mira deserved an out. “Tomorrow’s tournament is the best shot at tracing the big hex. The drain must ride the chips and table network. I just need to see it in person.”

  She blinked, relieved I was taking her seriously. “Then you have to prepare. This infiltration is bigger than just one table. The entire operation is set up so that once your name is on that buy-in form, they can manipulate the terms. They can legally claim your soul if you’re not careful.”

  I tried a small, grim smile. “I’m never careful. I’m thorough. There’s a difference.” I leaned forward. “I need to break the anchor, but first I have to find it. I have to see the pattern mid-play. That means I’ll be risking the same fate as every other unlucky champion.”

  “You’ll risk more than that.” Mira quickly stood, fidgeting with her uniform—dark slacks with a matching vest and tie, the standard dealer attire. “They might suspect you. They’ve got watchers all over the floor. The Neon Knives gang is always out there, pulling strings behind the scenes. They’ll test you, push you into revealing your methods. If you slip up and show you can read spells, they’ll brand you on the spot.”

  I stood too, walking her to the door. “I appreciate the warning, but this is something I have to do. Those missing winners deserve better than an unmarked grave.”

  Mira’s voice shook. “I know. Just… promise me you won’t do anything reckless. If you go down, I’m done for. They’ll blame me for telling you.”

  I reached for her shoulder. “All right. I won’t walk in blind. You’ve given me important intel. Let’s call it our little secret.”

  She managed a faint smile. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll be dealing your table, no doubt.”

  I let her out, then locked the door. For a long moment, I stood in the quiet hallway, mind racing. They’d put me at Mira’s table on purpose, no doubt to keep an eye on both of us. They must have known I’d be suspicious. Yet they still wanted me there. That meant they believed they were untouchable… or they wanted to bait me into a trap.

  Either way, I was committed now. I wasn’t going to let the house keep playing with people’s lives. I had a small circle of allies: Mira, who gave me leads; Selene, who maintained some of the tech-based enchantments for the casino; and presumably a few others within these walls who hated their predicament. If we worked together, maybe I could get enough proof to disrupt the entire twisted system.

  I walked back to the living room. The city lights flickered across the windows, painting everything with a ghostly glow. I pulled up my notes on the invitation. The buy-in was staggering. If I lost, I’d be in debt up to my ears—more than enough to justify them forcibly collecting me. That was the least of my worries. The real problem was that the buy-in itself might be a gateway to a magical noose. But to get proof, I needed to walk straight into that noose. And if I was goi
ng to hang, I intended to cut the rope before they kicked the chair away.

  I rubbed my eyes, heading to the small rolling cart in the corner where I kept some whiskey. I poured a finger of it into a glass, downed it in one sip, then set it aside. I had to start analyzing the standard contract language that came with this type of high-end game. They always had disclaimers a mile long. Hidden within that legalese was likely a spelled clause or two that got people bound. Tomorrow morning, I’d pay Selene a visit. She was shy but knew the ins and outs of the mechanical rigging that kept the casino’s enchantments alive. If she could identify even a portion of that anchor, I might have a blueprint of the entire circuit before I ever touched a chip.

  A low beep sounded behind me—an alert from my display screen. I tapped it awake, and it brought up a short feed from the hotel’s security logs. Three winners from last month, all flagged as “missing—no known next of kin.” Their credit lines were zeroed out. I scrolled again—eight people from older tournaments. All vanished. My glower deepened into a scowl.

  “These bastards aren’t subtle,” I muttered. “They just think no one can stop them.”

  A single line from the invitation’s fine print hovered before me in neon green: “Participant acknowledges all standard terms of the House Council… any breach or default forfeits all rights and privileges.” In a city where debt was a magical tether, “forfeits all rights” was exactly what it sounded like: losing your freedom, your identity, maybe even your life. The entire system was built on that concept.

  I closed the display, letting my reflection stare back at me in the now-dark surface. My steel-gray eyes looked haunted. I knew I was doing the right thing, but it felt like walking a tightrope without a net. Still, if I pulled this off, I might save a lot more than my own hide. I might break open the entire pipeline of stolen luck and enslaved winners.

  I headed to my desk to gather a few items. My grimoire, a relic I used mostly for comedic effect these days, but it held some powerful reference spells in its battered pages. A small magnifier with an embedded scrying lens that could reveal hidden sigils. And a deck of normal playing cards. I used them to practice reading micro-expressions, calibrating my reflexes for the real table. Practice probably wouldn’t help me much tomorrow, not when the house was cheating through magic. Still, it was habit.

  After setting everything in a neat pile, I took a final long look around my penthouse. Tomorrow, I could lose it all. This place was more than just a fancy rooftop retreat. It was my home base, my vantage point over the city. I couldn’t afford to let it slip away. Dying in the process wasn’t on my agenda either. I had to be methodical, find the anchor, and break it. I had a dealer to protect and an entire city’s predatory system to expose. And so help me, I was going to do it.

  I flicked off the last lamp, letting the neon from outside paint everything in sharp blues and pinks. Then I lay down on the sofa, staring at the distant glow. My mind buzzed with possibilities. The next step was set: sign up for the invitational, show up at the table, and figure out how they seamlessly converted winners into slaves. Even if it risked my life, I had no choice. The house had claimed enough souls. It was time someone called them on their bluff.

  Tomorrow, it would begin in earnest. I closed my eyes, though I doubted I’d get any real rest. In my line of work, you learned to operate on nerves and adrenaline. And as the city’s neon pulse guided my dreams, one thought kept circling through my head: winning was meaningless unless I could bring the entire rigged system crashing down. I intended to do exactly that.

  Chapter 2

  I didn’t sleep much, so I gave up on it around dawn and headed down to the hotel’s staff corridors, the ones behind the carefully guarded “employees only” signs. These hallways weren’t as glamorous as the lobby or the casino floors. The carpet was thinner, the lighting more utilitarian. The faint smell of stale coffee hung in the air. Security cameras lined every corner, presumably to keep employees from slipping out with chips or other contraband. I slid past them quietly, following the route to Selene’s workshop.

  Even though she was labeled a “tech-mage assistant,” that barely scratched the surface of her role. Selene was responsible for maintaining everything from the digital scoreboard in the poker lounge to the subtle illusions woven into the slot machines’ flashing lights. She also had clearance to fix enchantment nodes that kept the entire system stable. Although she was shy, I hoped we’d built enough trust that she might open up.

  I found her in a small control room tucked behind the main data center. The door was propped open by a metal wedge, letting me hear the low hum of servers inside. Selene sat at a narrow workbench. Her silver-blonde hair was tied back in a loose ponytail that draped over the collar of her uniform jacket, a plain black piece with the hotel’s insignia stitched on the left breast. She was hunched over a circuit board, carefully etching glowing runes onto the edges.

  “Selene,” I said quietly, stepping in. She jumped a little, then glanced over her shoulder. Her icy blue eyes, usually hesitant, relaxed when she saw me.

  “Collin. You should knock,” she said, her voice gentle, slightly scolding.

  I perched on a stool beside her. “I wanted to ask you about the casino’s enchantment network. Specifically the big one, the one that runs during tournaments.”

  She glanced at the camera overhead, then lowered her voice. “I can’t say much. They’ve put new restrictions in place since last month. We have to log every piece of info we share, or we risk a penalty.”

  “I know. I’m trying to keep you out of trouble,” I assured her. “But I need at least a clue. I’m walking into the invitational tonight, and I need to figure out how the house is funneling off luck—and how they’re turning winners into debtors.”

  Selene sighed. “They do it through multiple anchors, but the big anchor is hidden behind layers of illusions. I’ve never seen it in person. I only know that we have to run system checks on the major nodes once per day. They’re located in restricted areas, like the vault, the main cage, and some behind-the-scenes place the Neon Knives guard. That’s all I know.”

  I considered that. “So you’re forbidden to name the node, or you just don’t know the name?”

  “I don’t know it. The schedule says ‘Node 7’ or ‘Node 12’ and so on, but the real anchor name is disguised. They call it something else in official memos, if it’s even mentioned at all. My job is to keep the illusions running so patrons see whatever the house wants them to see.” She put down her etching tool. “I’m not proud of it.”

  I placed a hand gently on her shoulder. “You’re not the one capturing people. Don’t blame yourself. I just need enough to not walk in blind.”

  Her cheeks colored slightly, but she didn’t move away. “There’s a rumor,” she said softly. “Some tech guys told me the anchor can rewrite contract terms mid-play. They said the ledger was physically connected to the anchor. If you sign your name, or even if a dealer signs for you, it can be used to drain your luck or your life, depending on what they input. That’s why winners keep disappearing.”

  “Right,” I said. “Which means I’ll probably need to interrupt the pattern while it’s active. If I can see it forming, I might disrupt it. That’s what my spell-reading is good for.”

  She frowned. “But they’ll be expecting you. And if the pattern is big enough, just interrupting it might trigger a backlash or a countdown curse. You’d have to be sure you can handle that.”

  I shrugged. “I’m used to risk. I just can’t let them keep kidnapping winners.”

  Selene nodded. “Well, if you plan to do this, watch the chips. They’re the main conduit. The synergy of illusions and enchantments is woven into them. That’s how it cycles: from the chip to the table to the ledger, and back. That’s all I know, I swear.”

  “It’s more than enough.” I squeezed her shoulder gently, then stood. “Thank you, Selene. I’ll be going in tonight. If you hear of anything new—or see them prepping for a kill switch—let me know.”

  She hesitated, then pulled out a small slip of paper with neat, cramped handwriting. “It’s the daily maintenance schedule. It shows when we check the chips, the table sensors, everything. There could be a clue about their anchor timing. Don’t tell anyone I gave this to you.”