Episode 82 — Statistical Illusions and the Luck Audit

The room temperature was kept at an inorganic, mechanical cool by the air conditioning.

The effects of spending an astronomical amount of Lumina Points had yet to manifest as a clear, visible change. However, when I reached for the half-finished cola on my desk, the way its center of gravity shifted and the condensation clung to my fingers felt... optimized. It was as if the world was anticipating my thoughts.

(A 380-million-point patch. The fact that there are no flashy visual effects is probably proof that it’s integrated deep into the core system.)

I leaned back into the "Throne of Sloth," which provided a supreme sensation of comfort that ignored human anatomy to cling to my body. I watched the log of numbers flickering on the edge of the monitor.

“Mrrp. (Look at you, looking like your soul has left your body. Did you melt all those points just to upgrade your performance as a decorative ornament?)”

“...Tama. Did you notice the change in my execution priority? As an administrator of this world, I’ve taken a step into the privileged layer.”

Hearing Tama’s voice as she leaned against me, I reached out and stroked her soft neck.

But then, the usual chime echoed through the living room, cutting through the stagnation.

The one I let in was Gustav. And behind him, gliding in silently like a shadow, was Volg.

“Your nest is as cold as ever, huh. It’s like you’re laughing at the noise of the commoners outside. ...Wait, that chair’s got an even creepier texture now, hasn’t it?”

Volg gave a fearless smirk, eyeing the chair I was sitting in like a predator sizing up its prey.

“Bringing Volg along? That’s ominous. ...So, what happened? Did the system throw a fatal error?”

When I asked, Gustav straightened his posture.

“No, Mr. Zect. ...Today, I first wish to report on the casino’s operations. Management based on the mathematical methods you introduced has remained profitable and stable. However, for the last few weeks, revenue has hit a plateau... actually, it’s started to see a slight decline.”

I took the bundle of parchment Gustav held out with the tips of my fingers.

“The number of customers hasn't dropped. But the heat is cooling off,” Volg added, leaning against the living room wall. “The casino you built is too fair, too honest. It’s missing that searing absurdity unique to gambling.”

I shifted my position, feeling the seat adjust its shape to match my weight.

“Just checking, but the casino hardware is exactly as I instructed, right? You’ve completely transitioned to those high-quality fifty-two-card decks—the Felsen-made 'playing cards'—and games like baccarat and poker in the format I taught you?”

The gambling that existed in this world was too simple, making it hard to maintain a house edge. I had replaced all the cards and games with ones from my previous world.

“Yes, of course. The cards mass-produced with Elishua’s spells are impossible to see through from the back or distinguish by a single scratch on the edge. The disposable wax-seal system is also highly regarded by the customers as 'proof of fairness.'”

“Good. Then the platform isn't the problem. What’s missing is the presentation. ...Have them install 'trend boards' at every baccarat table.”

“Trend boards...? Hey now, Mr. Zect.” Volg furrowed his brow sharply. “Recording previous results to read the 'flow' is a privilege usually reserved for a handful of pro gamblers who memorize it all. Recording the outcomes in a gambling hall is normally forbidden. You’re going to show that to everyone?”

“That’s the point, Volg. We need to make everyone conscious of that 'flow.' Listen, I told you before that we make money through the Law of Large Numbers. If you repeat the trial tens of thousands of times, the results will always converge on the probability. Whether there’s a flow or not doesn't have a single millimeter of impact on the house’s profit. ...But for the customers, it’s different.”

I operated my terminal and displayed a grid of red and blue circles—a baccarat scoreboard.

“The customers will look at this chart and read the 'flow' on their own. If the Banker wins three times in a row, they’ll think, 'Surely it's the Player's turn next,' or conversely, 'The Banker is on a hot streak.' They’ll convince themselves the probability of the next result is eighty percent, even though the actual probability is always almost exactly fifty percent.”

“...So you're giving them a reason for a prediction that doesn't actually exist.”

“Exactly. When people believe there’s logic behind their decisions, they raise the stakes. This trend board is the ultimate interface for giving customers an illusion called a 'reason to win.'”

“You're using logic to trigger a bug in their brains. You’re a terrifying man.”

(Well, it’s a standard tactic in every casino back home.)

Volg gave a nihilistic laugh. Beside him, Gustav nodded deeply, saying, “I see, that would certainly skyrocket the customers' stay time and enthusiasm.” However, Volg didn't stop there.

“...But Mr. Zect, that’s not all. In that perfect mathematical garden of yours, there’s one customer who’s winning a bit too consistently.”

“Winning consistently? To what extent?”

“It’s not like they have a conspicuous winning streak, but their timing on bets is unnervingly sharp. Even after my 'Shadows' looked into it, we found no evidence of cheating. ...To be honest, some are starting to say we should just ban them.”

“...No. You can’t ban someone just because they're winning. That undermines the very foundation of the casino's credibility.”

I cut him off immediately. A casino's value is guaranteed by the existence of winners. If you eliminate customers who win too much, the place degenerates into a mere collection box, and the high rollers will never return.

“But there’s always a reason for an abnormal win rate. ...Volg, take this and record what that person is doing.”

I took a digital camera from the shelf and tossed it to Volg.

“What’s this? Another one of your new magic items?”

“It’s a digicam. It’s easy to use—look through here and press this button. ...It records light exactly as it is. It captures everything, from finger movements too fast for the naked eye to microscopic changes in facial expressions. Think of it as an optical audit log.”

Volg squinted one eye, peered through the lens, and curled his lip into a grin. “Heh, an interesting toy.”

“I want the raw data. I need to know if they’re exploiting a gap in the system, or if it’s just sheer luck. ...I’m counting on you, Volg.”

“Meow. (There you go again, making people work for you. You have a mountain of points, yet you're still thinking up ways to empty other people's pockets? Your karma is truly deep.)”

On my lap, Tama let out an exasperated snort.

“It’s fine, Tama. Leave it to me. I have a hunch about this.”

A hundred-million-point Authority. Eighty million for Remote.

Even without using such expensive resources, the world easily begins to turn in the direction I want just by poking at the vulnerabilities of the human heart.

(Now then, let's see who this "too lucky" customer really is. ...Time for sleep.)

I sank deep into my chair, deciding to wait for the coming chaos in my dreams.

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