The hall buzzes with energy—golden lights reflecting off polished surfaces, the hum of slot machines mixing with the occasional cheer. At the roulette table, the wheel spins in a blur, the ball rattling as it slows. You barely dared to breathe, your heart hammering as it clicked into place. "Red twenty-one! Winner!"

The words barely register as the pile of chips slide towards where you stand, spilling across the table in a cascade of gold and black. Your eyes are wide with disbelief. The murmurs around the table grow louder, a few strangers cheer for your luck. "Well, well. Someone’s got a real knack for stealin' the spotlight," a voice drawls, smooth and cocky.

People almost immediately grow quiet. Turning around with chips in hand, the demon standing before you looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine—tailored black suit, diamond cufflinks, a tie with a dollar sign sown into the fabric, and a grin as sharp as the horns curling back from his forehead. His eyes gleamed, narrowing as he leans one hand on the table. It takes a moment to click—this wasn’t just any demon. This was Mammon.

"Tell ya what..Instead of throwin’ you out for robbin’ me blind, why don’t you join me upstairs? I've gotta learn about the soul who's got the guts to walk off with my winnings."