Jin-Woo tilted his head and gave a small sigh of boredom. "Skip that green fellow," he muttered, flicking a finger toward the council member. "He just lost his shit."
Laughter burst from parts of the crowd. Some leaned back in their seats, relieved. Others just shook their heads, whispering how Mos Espa would be reduced to dust if those monsters ever actually showed up.
Jin-Woo's eyes then slid sideways, landing on Lady Valarian. "So… how's that for a first round?" He tilted his head again, mock-curious. "You forfeited before it even started?"
Lady Valarian's jaw locked. But then she stood proudly, adjusting the collar of her gold-trimmed robe. "I raise my stake," she said firmly. "My Lucky Despot."
Jin-Woo waved a hand dismissively. "That's just—what, five to fourteen million credits depending on how desperate the buyer is?" His tone dropped an octave, sharper now. "You don't have anything else."
Lady Valarian's eyes narrowed. "I wasn't finished, dumbass. I will add—"
"No," Jin-Woo cut her off, . "No, you don't. Not at all."
Valarian flinched.
Jin-woo didn't stop. "You're thinking of calling in favors from the Hutt Cartel. Betting assets that don't belong to you. Trying to wager promises and influence over the other syndicates. But that—" he tapped the coaxium crate beside him, "—is worth more than any of that combined. What you're trying to offer is trash. It's all far, far less valuable than hyperdrive fuel for a capital ship."
Lady Valarian's hand twitched once before slowly curling into a fist by her side.
Jin-Woo didn't even blink. "Your move, frog in a well."
Before she could respond—
SLAM.
The grand doors of the Lucky Despot burst open. A wave of surprised murmurs rippled through the crowd as Ziro the Hutt slithered in, flanked by two vibro-axe wielding Gamorreans and a protocol droid waddling behind, struggling to keep up.
Jin-Woo's eyes narrowed slightly.
if he sees Talon, that'd blow the mask off everything. Guess it's time to mess with him a bit.
Without turning his head, Jin-Woo gave a barely noticeable signal—two fingers flicked low by his hip.
Morgan, hidden in his shadow, caught it instantly. Her lips curled in faint amusement.
He's going to troll a Hutt. Of course he is.
With a silent breath, she raised her mana like a thin mist. Both Elena and Talon faded from view, veiled completely. Morgan stood beside them now, a hand on each of their shoulders, their presence erased from all but Jin-Woo's senses.
Ziro slithered up toward the table with the confidence of someone who thought he owned half the city. "I heard," he drawled, thick and flamboyant, "that someone managed to beat my nephew's prized servant. And not only that—put a marker and one hundred rancor calves on the table?" His huge eyes locked on Jin-Woo. " I intend to win that back. For family pride."
The audience buzzed louder, some laughing nervously, others watching eagerly.
Lady Valarian, always quick to seize a moment, raised her goblet in welcome. "Another player," she declared smoothly. "Good. The game is far from over. Let's open the sabacc again."
She turned toward Jin-Woo with an edge to her smile. "Well then, outlander. Shall we deal again?"
Jin-Woo leaned back in his seat, head tilting just slightly. His lips curved with pure ease.
"Sure," he said simply.
The cards were dealt again, chips stacked, . The audience leaned in. This time, fortune did not smile on the outlander. The dealer gestured toward the players.
Ziro flipped his cards first—three perfect matching ones.
"Full Sabacc. Total twenty-three."
The room stirred.
Lady Valarian smirked, turning her cards with a flair. "Full Sabacc."
Another wave of gasps rolled through the room.
Jin-Woo, without hesitation, showed his hand—Strong Hands, total twenty-two. Close… but not enough.
Ziro laughed, slow and smug.
"Oooh, almost beat me… but you stood no chance, outlander."
He reached across the table, grabbing the ten coaxium packs Jin-Woo had staked with greedy delight, dragging them to his side like trophies.
Jin-Woo said nothing. Just smiled. There it is, he thought. Their greed's kicked in. They're not stopping at one round. That's all I needed.
Now I'll pull a Jotaro against Darby..
The dealer shuffled again, hands practiced and precise. Cards slid across the table—Lady Valarian, Ziro, Jin-Woo.
Everyone took their cards. Everyone except Jin-Woo.
He didn't even glance at them. The dealer hesitated. The entire table noticed.
Lady Valarian narrowed her eyes. "…Outlander? You didn't look at your cards?"
Jin-Woo stretched, back still straight, arms resting calmly. "I'll leave it as it is," he replied smoothly.
The room went still. A few guests exchanged confused glances.
Ziro blinked twice, then leaned forward with suspicion. "Can you repeat that?"
Jin-Woo didn't flinch. "Leave it. As it is."
Ziro's confidence in his tone cracked just slightly. "…I heard you the first time. But I want to know why you won't look at your cards."
Jin-Woo didn't answer. Didn't even raise his eyes.
He just sat there , smiling . Silent.
The dealer, unfazed, slid another card toward Ziro. The Hutt peeked at it—his eyes widening for a fraction of a second.
Pure Sabacc. Twenty-three. With just two cards.
Ziro's inner grin twisted dark.
This is it. This moment—this fool just played into my hands. Once I win, the outlander will be finished. All of Tatooine will cast him out. Even Valarian and her bootlickers will come crawling to me.
He raised his voice with a flourish.
"I already staked my personal palace on Coruscant… but now, I'll add the B'omarr Monastery too!"
Gasps rippled through the onlookers. The monastery was ancient, sacred, fortified—unthinkable to wager.
Ziro leaned forward, voice syrupy with malice.
"So what about you, outlander? You only have ten coaxium packs left. What can you offer now, huh? You going to fold? Tuck your tail and crawl off Tatooine?"
But Jin-Woo finally moved. A slow, measured smile pulled across his lips.
"Of Course " he said calmly. "I add… one billion Republic credits."
The shadows beneath Jin-Woo darkened—and began to swirl. A black tide of currency rolled up from the floor like a living wave, surging out from his feet. Crates, containers, and loose stacks of hard currency burst up and scattered, rolling across the marble floors of the Lucky Despot. Republic credits. More than most had ever seen in a lifetime. The weight of a billion slammed into the room. Some guests dropped their drinks. Others backed away, wide-eyed. Murmurs turned into chaos.
Even Valarian's expression twisted—brows tight, breath catching in her throat.
Ziro, frozen mid-laugh, stared with pupils shrinking.
One billion credits...
Even if it's useless here, that kind of money could buy Tatooine.
Both Ziro and Lady Valarian stared at Jin-Woo, sweat beginning to form under their lavish garments.
Who the hell is this man? they both thought at once.
Then, without a word, Jin-Woo tilted his head slightly and exhaled. A cigarette—already lit—rested between his lips. No one had seen him light it. or even saw him take it out. But the thin trail of smoke through the room.
Ziro shifted in his seat, eyes narrowing, lips curling awkwardly.
"Oyyy, outlander… what have you done?" he muttered, half-laughing, half-afraid.
Jin-Woo turned to him slowly, "What am I doing?" he said lazily,
Ziro opened his mouth again—trying to keep face—but no words came out. He went silent.
Lady Valarian's gaze turned toward him. So did the dealer's. The way they looked at Ziro now—quiet, flat, expectant—sent another shiver down his thick spine.
Don't look at me like that, he thought bitterly. Damn you both… If the outlander finds out we were working together to corner him, both your lives are done for.
Ziro's gaze drifted—nervous, calculating—to the three face-down cards still in front of Jin-Woo. The outlander hadn't even touched them.
The only way he can beat my Pure Sabacc… is Idiot's Array. The rarest hand in the game. He'd have to switch out all three cards perfectly. That's impossible. Absolutely no fucking way.
He sucked in a breath, leaning forward, just about to force Jin-Woo to reveal his hand—
Only for the outlander which Is jin woo to suddenly grab a glass from the side and take a long, lazy sip of juice. Right in the middle of the most tense sabacc game on the Outer Rim.
Ziro's jaw twitched. He straightened in his seat and slammed his hand down. "A-All right then! Now—my card!"
But Jin-Woo raised a finger lazily. "Wait up," he said, almost bored. "I haven't raised my stake yet."
The audience gasped. Even after staking one billion Republic credits, the outlander still had more?
Across the table, the Black Sun council member blinked, finally snapping out of his haze. He had been so deep in thought trying to figure out how to transport five Gorog to Tatooine without causing planetary catastrophe that Jin-Woo's voice hit him like a slap.
His eyes narrowed. What else does he have?
Valarian's voice rose in fury. "The fuck did you just say, outlander?"
Ziro's mouth opened wide, some of his words garbled by the pressure.
"RRRrrrrrrrrrrr—Raise? Raise you sayyy?" His laugh cracked awkwardly. "But you don't have anything more!"
Jin-Woo didn't look at him. Instead, he turned to Valarian, voice calm. "Open the roof of this freighter."
Valarian frowned. "What?"
"I said," Jin-Woo repeated, "open the roof."
She hesitated. The entire room went silent again.
Then, with a sharp wave of her hand, she gave the order. Her subordinates immediately moved to obey, fingers dancing over control panels along the walls.
With a deep metallic THUNK, gears began turning overhead. The ceiling of the Lucky Despot groaned and parted—panels sliding back with grinding whines until the interior of the grand chamber was fully exposed to the sky above.
And the sky… was split.
Half drenched in shadow, half bathed in golden afternoon light—still torn down the middle by the scar left from whatever had brought Jin-Woo here.
Then, Jin-Woo stood slowly. He raised a hand toward the heavens, fingers twitching as his mana surged skyward like a stormfront. With a single snap of his fingers— The split sky momentarily mended, returning to a deceptively calm blue. But then…
The air rippled. The sun vanished. A colossal shadow descended over Tatooine as something broke into the system. . From high orbit, the sky turned black as a slipspace rift cracked wide—and through it came a ship. A mantle-class behemoth, stretching across the void with silent menace. (img here)
Its silhouette blocked out the sun entirely. A monstrous alien vessel : Mantle Approach , towering at 371 kilometers in height, hovered above Tatooine ..
Jin-Woo exhaled a casual breath, still sipping his juice.
"I raise my stake," he said, voice cool and even. "A 371-kilometer alien ship."
Ziro's stumbled, eyes wide, falling hard against the floor as his voice cracked.
"HUHHHHHH—?!"
A string of panicked, incoherent Huttese curses tumbled from his lips:
"E'chuta! Jee wata du chuba! Poodoo keeli kaa maa—what the chuta is that?!"
Lady Valarian stumbled back two steps, her ornate rings clinking together as she clutched her robes. "Ohhh shit—shittt! By the Hutts and Tatooine—what the fuck is that?!"
The audience had stopped breathing. Every eye locked on Jin-Woo as if staring at an extinction-level event. Some of them were already praying. Others simply stood frozen—shoulders stiff, .
The Falleen Black Sun council member had gone pale. His mouth hung open .
Jin-Woo tilted his head, eyes lazily drifting down to Ziro now collapsed at the edge of the table—looking like a child caught in a fire. "But Ziro," Jin-Woo said, voice easy, almost amused, "you still haven't finished raising your stake to match mine."
Ziro blinked up at him, barely holding himself together.
Jin-Woo's eyes sharpened. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on the table once more.
"You can match my wager," he said smoothly, "by telling us all the truth."
"Why didn't Jabba kill you," Jin-Woo continued, "even though you've betrayed him multiple times?"
Ziro opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Only a strangled noise came out.
His mind was spiraling now. I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have played this game… Not against this monster .
Off to the side, cloaked in a veil of Transfiguration Mana, Morgan stood silently. The spell rendered her and the two sisters invisible to all present—except Jin-Woo, of course.
Talon whispered, her voice barely audible beneath the illusion. "Is my master really that powerful, Ms. Morgan?"
Morgan's gaze remained fixed on the table, calm but focused. "I don't know what's in Jin-Woo's head right now. Honestly… it was supposed to be Starforge. But instead—he called in a Didact personal ship . That's very Jin-Woo."
Beside her, Elena Daru stood wordless, awe thick in her breath as she watched her sister's master bend the criminal underworld over a sabacc table like it was child's play.
At the center of it all, Jin-Woo exhaled one last time, then ground his cigarette into dust with his fingertips—crushing it to powder as if even ash had no right to linger.
Then he shouted, voice sharp as a blade: "Well? Do you bet or not? Let's hear it loud and clear, Ziro of the Hutts!"
Ziro jolted. Hands trembling, he reached out with jittery fingers and picked up his cards—only to slam them down hard on the table. The edges bent
"I—I will say itttttttt—!" Ziro howled, barely holding back a sob. "I am Ziro the Hutt! The best gamblerrrrr in the Outer Rim—!"
He was shaking so hard he could barely sit upright. Sweat drenched his layered neck folds. His pupils were dilated.
His lips fumbled again, struggling to form a single word. "Ca—c-c-ca… ca—"
He wanted to say Call. That was all.
But it wouldn't come out.
Shit… he thought wildly, I'm so nervous I forgot how to breathe—!
He gagged on his own air. His last word, cracked and pitiful, slipped out:
"Caa…"
And then—he collapsed. A heavy thud rocked the table as Ziro the Hutt, slumped to the floor, eyes rolled back and limbs limp. The audience gasped. A few screamed. Some backed away from the table entirely.