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The door opened, revealing an old 80s American bar with hardwood floors, wooden tables, and chairs. A black man played melancholy jazz music on his saxophone in a corner. People were grouped in twos or threes, playing games like blackjack or baccarat. The eyes of people staring at a roulette wheel at the center of the tables were spinning in unison with the wheel. This was a gambling house.
Seong-Hwi slowly walked around the gambling house, the old hardwood floors creaking underneath his shoes. He could smell the smoke of cigars, hear the bartender’s shaker, and the sentimental music from the saxophone.
“Blackjack.”
“Banker.”
“I’ll be the dealer.”
Seong-Hwi walked past the people who were aiming for a jackpot like moths to a flame and placed his hand on the shoulder of a man sitting at a bar table.
“Hm? Who are you?” asked a middle-aged white man in a brown raincoat and cowboy boots.
“William.”
“You know me?” I’ve never met an Asian in Las Vegas—much less in Binion’s Horseshoe Casino.”
“I need your help,” Seong-Hwi said as he sat beside William.
On the bar table was an empty cocktail glass and two dice William used when playing craps.
“You need my help? I see… you’re the one who created this space.”
“That’s...
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