Robbing the casino.
To be precise, robbing the vault beneath the casino.
Once Roger settled on the target, he immediately began preparations.
He gathered the organization's core members and held a meeting, assigning each man his task.
The organization now had twelve members. Counting Roger, that made thirteen.
Judging by their build and strengths, Roger divided them into two teams.
One team small and fast.
One team tall and strong.
Six in each, almost the same configuration as the Marley Warrior unit he once served in.
After spending a whole night explaining tactical points, and another week drilling them with his own hands, they were starting to look like something real—not just petty thugs, but more like a ruthless gang.
But Roger knew it still wasn't enough. The organization's funds were running dry.
Either act now, or starve waiting.
If he delayed, everyone would eventually flee.
Even killing one as a warning wouldn't stop them all from running.
So he led everyone into the casino disguised as gamblers.
He wanted them to memorize the layout so they could infiltrate smoothly.
Nelly and Babut dressed as servants and followed close behind.
Roger wore a suit, lit a cigar, and strolled among the crowd, watching everything closely.
The casino was large, packed with people. Guards in uniforms carried rifles, but there were also plainclothes among the gamblers.
Examining the rifles, Roger saw they were old models—long single-shot weapons. Compared to Marley's, primitive, but accurate enough at short range.
And the casino was crawling with them. Every corridor had at least one or two guards.
Kill one, the other would instantly notice and fire.
Nelly stuck close to Roger, tracing shapes with his finger on his thigh, sketching the guard placements in his head.
Babut, meanwhile, wouldn't stop whining.
"Boss, the guards are too dense! From any angle, there's no blind spot!"
"Boss, are you really sure? I'm terrified…"
"Boss, look up there—see the bones on the rafters? Those are thieves they caught and skinned alive, left to dry in the air!"
"Boss—"
"Shut up, Babut." Roger grabbed his collar, voice cold. "I don't need you reminding me of danger. And listen—don't think I've kept you alive because I value you. The only reason you're breathing is because at the moment I didn't feel like killing anyone. Understand?"
"…Yes!"
Babut nodded frantically, pale.
Two guards glanced their way, assumed it was a master scolding a servant, and ignored it.
Minutes later, everyone filed out of the casino.
As ordered, and since they hadn't acted yet, no one was exposed.
Back in the basement of Pete Ridoz Tavern in Stohess, Roger was ready to compare notes and draft the map.
But Nelly had already drawn a detailed layout, every corridor and guard marked.
The others checked it one by one. Almost no mistakes.
"Good work, Nelly."
For the first time, Roger praised someone. He hadn't expected Nelly to memorize and reproduce it so quickly.
Nelly only smiled awkwardly.
Not out of humility—but because he didn't want any part of this heist.
"Boss, my role ends here." He bowed his head. "I've always been weak. Theory and talk, maybe, but robbery? I'll just slow you down. Please, let me stay out."
Roger studied him.
It was true. Nelly was the thinnest, shortest of them all. His hands soft from bartending, his face unscarred.
He wasn't fit for fighting—better suited to paperwork.
But the others were furious.
"Oi, Nelly, what's that supposed to mean?"
"Running out now, you bastard?!"
"Why should you get a free pass?"
Nelly's face darkened, but he dared not argue. He had no strength, standing against them was suicide.
Still, he didn't want to go.
The risk was insane. The chance of success—basically zero.
Seeing this, Roger rubbed his nose, then his forehead.
"I won't force you. But this job is yours as much as mine," Roger said. "Every coin in that vault, whatever you carry out is yours. I won't take a single cent."
Heavy rewards breed courage. At those words, the others' eyes lit with greed.
Whatever they grabbed would be theirs!
They could stay broke—or become rich overnight.
If it worked, food and shelter for life.
They remembered years of being hunted by MPs, oppressed by corrupt officials. Their jaws clenched.
"Boss, I'm with you!"
Nelly heard too, but he was resolved. To him, it was a death march.
"Boss, even so, I still—"
Even after all that, someone still tried to back out. Roger thought it over and nodded.
"Fine. Anyone else not going?"
"Me!" Babut's face brightened. He hadn't expected the boss to show mercy.
But Roger didn't care. He could rob the vault alone if he had to. The others were just there to haul the money.
If they wouldn't seize the chance, it was their loss.
"Alright. Those who don't want to come, stay. Those who do, report here tomorrow for gear." Roger ordered, then sent Nelly and Babut to buy weapons.
They left in high spirits.
In their minds, this heist was suicide—walking straight into Kamen's guns. No way out.
Perfect. They'd let Kamen's gang kill the fool boss for them.
Grinning at the thought, they went out.
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