The red and gold lights reflected off the crystal glasses as half-naked dancers spun on platforms, their translucent veils floating to the electronic beat. The air was thick with Cuban cigars, aged whiskey, and expensive perfumes, mingling with the sound of fake laughter and million-dollar bets. Tycoons and mobsters raised bottles of Dom Pérignon, while high-class courtesans circulated, offering smiles and promises worth more than gold.
Lucius leaned back in his chair, his ice-cold blue eyes fixed on his opponent with a slight arch of his eyebrows—a crooked smile blending charm and menace.
Across the table, the man who had appeared unannounced, unrecognized by security or patrons, stared at Lucius with a mocking grin. His short, impeccably combed black hair gleamed under the casino lights. He wore a tailored gray suit, sharp and elegant, with a black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, exuding an aura of restrained power. Ruby rings identical to Lucius's gleamed on his fingers. A Patek Philippe on his wrist seemed to mock time itself.
"Lucius Draganov," the man began, handling the cards with long, precise fingers. "Heir to an empire, son of the mafia's lion, king of excess… What happens when the world has already given you everything?"
Lucius smiled humorlessly, twirling a chip between his fingers.
"When the world gives you everything, you bet to see if it has more to offer."
The man let out a low laugh, sharp and cutting like a blade.
"Interesting. I like that. Let's play one hand, then. Just one."
Lucius raised an eyebrow, his gaze appraising.
"One hand? What kind of player bets so little?"
"It's not little," the man replied, his tone lazy and sarcastic. "It just depends… on what's at stake."
Lucius tilted his head, intrigued.
"And what exactly is at stake?"
The man lifted his gaze. His eyes were black as abysses, deep enough to swallow the soul of anyone who dared look into them.
"Surprise. We'll only find out after we turn the cards."
Lucius scoffed, his crooked smile returning.
"You don't seem like the type who plays fair."
"Me? How dare you…" He feigned offense, a hand to his chest in a theatrical gesture. "Call me Elliot. Just a lover of the game. And of irony."
Lucius narrowed his eyes. His instincts sensed something off, but the adrenaline of the challenge spoke louder.
"Elliot, huh? Alright. Let's see if you can play like a man."
The game began, and the air around the table seemed to hum with electric tension. The dealer distributed the cards with precision, the sound of the deck slicing through the silence forming between the two players. Lucius held his cards with the calm of a veteran, his eyes scanning Elliot's expressions for any weakness—a tremor, a fleeting glance, a tic.
Nothing. Elliot maintained his mocking grin, his fingers lightly tapping the table, as if toying with a trinket rather than betting against the king of the casino.
The first round of betting came, and Lucius tossed a stack of chips with a casual gesture, testing the waters.
"Gonna keep up, or you running already?" Lucius taunted, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Elliot pushed an equal stack forward without blinking, his gaze locked on Lucius.
"Run? Not my style. Yours?"
Lucius let out a low laugh but felt a chill at the back of his neck. Something was wrong.
The community cards were revealed: an ace of spades, a king of hearts, a queen of diamonds.
Lucius had a three-of-a-kind aces in hand. A strong play. Almost unbeatable. He raised the bet, pushing more chips, their clink sounding like a threat.
"You bluff badly," Lucius said, trying to unsettle him. "Or is it just stupidity?"
Elliot tilted his head, as if amused.
"Bluff? Who needs that when the cards already know who wins?"
Lucius frowned. Elliot's taunt pricked at his ego.
The next card came: a ten of clubs.
His three-of-a-kind was still strong, but something in Elliot's gaze made him doubt—not the cards, but himself. He bet big, nearly half his chips. A move that would make any player hesitate.
Elliot didn't hesitate. He pushed all his chips to the center of the table.
"All in," Elliot said, his voice calm but carrying a weight that made the air feel denser.
The other players at the table, silent spectators until now, exchanged nervous glances. The casino around them seemed quieter, as if even the dancers and tycoons felt the gravity of the moment.
Lucius stared at Elliot, his blue eyes burning with a mix of anger and curiosity. He knew he could win. He had to win.
He pushed all his chips forward.
"Let's see who laughs last," Lucius said, his voice steady—but with a slight tremor he hated noticing.
The final card was revealed: a jack of diamonds.
Lucius flipped his cards with confidence, revealing his three aces. A play that had crushed opponents before.
He looked at Elliot, expecting the moment to humiliate him.
But Elliot just smiled. He turned his cards with the elegance of a magician.
A Royal Straight Flush.
The perfect hand.
Silence fell like a guillotine. Lucius froze, the air trapped in his lungs. The casino around him seemed to fade—the dancers, the laughter, the clink of chips—all swallowed by a leaden void.
Elliot smiled like a satisfied predator.
"Looks like… you lost."
Lucius clenched his teeth, his facade of control cracking.
"Alright. What's the game now?"
Elliot's smile widened. With a snap of his fingers, time stopped.
The room fell into a sepulchral silence. The dancers froze midair, their veils suspended like ghosts. The glasses stopped clinking. The cigars stopped smoking. Even the dealer stood motionless, his eyes glassy. Only Lucius and Elliot moved.
Lucius shot up, his chair toppling behind him.
"What the hell!? What did you do!?"
Elliot stood, adjusting his gray suit sleeves with theatrical slowness.
"Finally…" he said, approaching with calm steps, "…you're starting to get it. I never said I was an ordinary player. I never said this was an ordinary bet."
Lucius stumbled back, his chest tightening, his heart racing.
"Who… who are you?"
Elliot's smile vanished. He bowed, like an actor at the end of a performance, and whispered:
"I'm the one who collects debts. And today… you're my reward."
Lucius fell to his knees, gasping, a searing pain exploding in his chest, as if an invisible hand were crushing his heart. He tried to scream, but his voice failed.
The casino sprang back to life—but not as before. Screams echoed. A woman with black hair, the same one who had slept in his bed that morning, ran toward him. Her red dress torn, her eyes wide with panic. She opened her mouth, but no sound came, as if a force silenced her.
Tycoons and courtesans gathered, forming a circle around Lucius, their faces a mix of shock and fear. A Russian mobster dropped his vodka, the glass shattering on the floor. A security guard moved forward but stopped, hesitant, as if afraid to touch what lay before him.
"Help… him…" a courtesan murmured, her voice trembling—but no one moved.
Lucius, on his knees, clutched his chest. His blue eyes were losing their spark. His vision blurred. He looked at Elliot, who stepped back with hands in his pockets, whistling a cold melody, indifferent to the chaos.
The floor beneath Lucius seemed to drain his strength. He collapsed sideways, his Tom Ford suit soaked with sweat. His final breaths were shallow—each one a losing battle.
He saw the brunette fall to her knees beside him, her hands trembling, trying to touch him but pulling back as if he were a specter. The casino spun, the terrified faces blending into a haze…
And then… darkness.
"See you soon, Lucius. Or rather… welcome to the next board."
Elliot's voice echoed in his mind, like a final verdict.
And with that, the world went black.
Lucius woke with a dry mouth, his body heavy as if crushed by a truck. He was lying on a silent street, surrounded by a mist that seemed alive, swirling in slow spirals. Everything was gray and morbid, as if the color had been drained from the world.
There were no sounds of people. No lights. No movement.
Only the distant echo of something he couldn't identify.
He stood slowly, confused, breathing with difficulty. The Tom Ford suit, now dirty and torn, hung from his body like a relic of another life. His rings still gleamed.
But his watch was stopped.
Frozen at 2:47.