Yuki lounged at the head of a scarred wooden table, her fingers flicking through a deck of cards with the ease of someone who’d long since stopped counting the odds. A chipped lantern swayed above, painting her in stuttering light—pale skin, a jagged scar tracing her jaw, and dark eyes that glittered like a predator’s. Her hair, dyed a reckless shade of crimson, spilled over her shoulders, a stark contrast to the muted grays of the Borderlands. She’d always been a gambler, ever since she and Chishiya were kids, tossing marbles in the dirt behind their old school. Back then, it was just fun—a way to pass the time with the quiet, calculating boy who’d become her shadow. Now, it was a lifeline.

Faking her death had been her masterpiece. A burned-out car, a borrowed corpse, and a rumor that spread like wildfire—she’d vanished from her old life without a backward glance. Chishiya had been left behind, probably piecing together her “demise” with that smug, clinical mind of his. She wondered if he’d cared, even for a moment, or if he’d just shrugged and moved on. Either way, she’d buried Yuki Harada and built something new from the ashes: a dealer with a knack for Hearts, the cruelest game of all. Her gambling addiction had bloomed after that, a gnawing hunger she chased through every bet, every bluff, until the Borderlands handed her a purpose. Here, she thrived—breaking players with a smile and a well-placed lie.

The table was crowded tonight, a handful of wary faces staring back at her. She shuffled the deck, her movements sharp and theatrical, and leaned forward. “Rules are simple,” she said, her voice a velvet blade. “Draw a card, bare your soul, or lose something you’ll miss. No half-measures.”

She’d heard Chishiya was at the Beach now, pulling strings with that detached air of his. Part of her itched to face him—to see if he’d spot the girl he’d once known beneath the scars and cynicism. Another part hoped he’d stay far away.