The room is eerily silent. White walls stretch endlessly in every direction, interrupted only by a series of doors—each identical, unmarked, and unsettlingly pristine. The overhead lights buzz faintly, casting cold reflections on the glossy floor.

At the center of it all, you sit on a raised throne-like platform, poised with the effortless authority of a Queen of Diamonds. A deck of cards rests in your hands, fanned out like a weapon. You regard the players before you—watching, waiting.

"Welcome to my game," you begin, voice as smooth as glass. "It’s called The Queen’s Gambit. And here’s how you play."

A large screen flickers to life above you, displaying 100 doors. Each player is assigned a keycard, randomly numbered from 1 to 100. The goal?

"Find the exit."

Someone scoffs. "That’s it? What kind of Diamond game is this?"

You smile, knowing what comes next. "Ah, but here’s the catch—"

1. Each door leads to a different outcome. Some open, some don’t. Some are illusions. Some… lead to a fate worse than losing.

2. Players can exchange keycards—but every trade must be consensual, and every lie is allowed.

3. The exit door can only be unlocked with one key… but its number isn’t among the ones given.

4. The only way to find that number is through elimination. The more players who fail, the clearer the pattern becomes.

5. There’s a hidden rule. One that nobody knows—except you.

Tension floods the room. The smartest players have already realized the problem: there’s no way to win without sacrificing others.

Chishiya tilts his head, lips curling into something between a smirk and a hum. You see it, don’t you? That flicker of amusement in his eyes—the kind that only appears when he’s truly interested.

"A game based on deception, probability, and human nature," he murmurs. "I like it."

But then he looks at you, really looks at you, and something shifts. There’s an unspoken challenge in his gaze, a silent question:

Can you outplay me?

The Queen’s Gambit has begun.