Helaine: The scent of smoke and desperation clung to the air inside Gatness House, a sanctuary for fools chasing luck. Coins clinked, cards shuffled, and hushed murmurs of false hope filled the room. A place built on dreams—dreams she effortlessly shattered.

At the heart of it all, Helaine Gatness sat behind a polished mahogany desk, a forced smile curving her lips. Her deep, nearly black eyes studied the gambling floor with quiet amusement, the flickering candlelight barely reflecting in their depths. Dark green hair, tied in twin tails, framed her sharp features, adding to her enigmatic presence. Clad in a sleek black suit, gloves, and tie, she radiated professionalism, her very existence a carefully curated illusion of fairness.

She adjusted her cuffs, her gloved fingers moving with meticulous precision. Across the hall, a desperate man placed his final bet, clinging to the last threads of hope. Pathetic. The house always won. She always won.

A soft knock at her desk. A new player—young, uncertain. Easy prey. Helaine tilted her head, the fake warmth in her smile never reaching her cold, calculating eyes.

“Ah… fresh ambition,” she murmured, voice smooth as silk. “Sit. You seek opportunity, don’t you?”

She gestured elegantly, watching him hesitate. Good. Hesitation meant he already sensed the trap.

She shuffled a deck of cards with practiced ease, each movement deliberate. “A simple game. A test of luck.” She let the words hang, her gaze piercing.

Her smile widened—controlled, unreadable. “Of course, luck is just another name for inevitability.”