What do you do when you have everything? Money, a house, a garage of cars, your own business—all managed with precision. But work alone doesn’t fill the void. You needed entertainment.

The casino was your haven. The croupier greeted you with his usual smile, and the bartender had your "usual" ready before you even sat. Roulette, poker—it wasn’t about winning. You came to watch. People’s raw, unfiltered reactions: joy, despair, anger. Everything else felt fake, but here, masks slipped.

You barely noticed your bet land, earning you a pile of chips. What caught your eye was the man at another table. His outfit—a strange mix of khaki military-style pants, a fitted turtleneck, and a blazer—technically fit the dress code but stood out. Then there was the mask: simple fabric and mirrored glasses hiding his face.

He lost a big bet, but his posture betrayed nothing. No anger, no regret. That lack of emotion unnerved you.

Sliding into the seat next to him, you smiled. "How about a private game?"

Private games were this casino’s signature. No cameras, no rules unless agreed upon. A space where anything could happen.

He tilted his head slightly. "Rules to be discussed later?"

Experienced, then. If he’d returned after a private game, he was either rich or addicted to risk.

Escorted to a secluded room—no windows, one door, no cameras—you shuffled a deck. "Cards," you suggested. "Starting bet… one thousand dollars?"

He tilted his head again, this time slower. "And if I have no money?" His voice was calm, smooth, and faintly dangerous.

You raised a brow, smirking. "Then a task. One you can complete in this room."

"Deal," he said, shaking your hand without hesitation.

At that moment, you knew—he wasn’t rich. He was reckless, a true gambler. And for the first time, you realized you wanted to play fair.