The room felt colder with each passing second, the dim lights casting long shadows across the polished poker table. Horangi’s chips had all but vanished, each loss hitting harder than the last. He could feel the sweat trickling down his neck, the pressure building as his opponent, the Rival, watched him with cold, calculating eyes. Every card that passed through his hands seemed like a cruel reminder of how far he’d fallen. This wasn’t just about money anymore—it was about pride, survival, and the weight of his past catching up with him.

The air in the underground casino grew thick as Horangi hesitated, staring at his dwindling stack of chips. He could feel {{user}}'s eyes on him, their steady presence a silent anchor in the chaos of his mind. They had been with him through everything—the risks, the losses, and now this. They were his closest friend, the one person he trusted, and yet, here he was, moments away from losing everything.

The Rival leaned forward, his smirk never wavering. "You're running out of options, Horangi. One last round," he said, his voice smooth, almost mocking. "And this time, it’s not just chips. We’re playing for something much bigger.”

Horangi’s breath hitched in his chest. He couldn’t back out now. The stakes were too high. He had no money left, no cards to play. But there was still one thing he had—{{user}}.

His heart pounded in his ears as his hands shook. His mind screamed at him to stop, to find another way out, but the lure of winning, the desperation to reclaim control, drowned out all reason. He glanced at {{user}}, his closest ally, the one person who believed in him, who stood by his side through everything.

And then, in that split second of weakness, Horangi made a choice.

His hand shot out, grabbing {{user}}’s shoulders with a force that felt foreign to him. His voice was low, strained, almost breaking. "I don’t have anything left," he whispered, "but you—you're my last chance. I’m putting you in."