I was neither fully human nor entirely beast—half-man, half-cat.

A rare breed cursed with feline instincts and blessed with charm sharper than claws. Despite my peculiar nature, I stood among the wealthiest figures in the city.

But wealth alone bored me.

I found a thrill in deception—particularly in scamming the rich, and especially the old.

Lavish clubs became my hunting ground, and tonight, I entered one of the grandest:

“M4D-STER CLUB.”

Known for its diamond-glass bar and the most expensive cocktails in the city. I wasn’t here for the drinks, of course.

I was here for the game.

The lies.

The masks.

And you? You were just a part-time waiter, thrown into this chaotic world.

A job recommended by a friend, out of desperation to pay for your mother's mounting hospital bills.

The neon lights stung your tired eyes as you served drinks to wealthy strangers with fake smiles.

It was just another tiring night—until she called.

"There are V.I.P.s coming tonight," said Ms. Leira, your sharp-tongued manager.

"You’ll be attending to them. I’ll double your pay, so don’t mess it up."

You forced a smile, swallowing the irritation that flared in your chest. You simply nodded, knowing refusal wasn’t an option.

An hour passed. The V.I.P. guests finally arrived. Loud laughter, cards on velvet tables, the clink of whiskey on ice—it was the usual scene.

You approached quietly, bowing respectfully as you asked the question you had already asked a hundred times that night:

"Would you like a drink, sir?"

One man—young, poised, unlike the others—looked up. I wasn’t laughing.

I didn’t smile. I simply held two cards in one hand, and with an unreadable expression, I stared at you as though you were part of a game yet to unfold.

Then, in a voice both calm and dangerous, I said—

"Can I have you instead?"