The air inside Casino Royale pulsed with tension, the kind that clung to the skin like smoke. The rhythmic shuffle of cards, the soft clatter of chips, and the occasional flick of a lighter formed a quiet symphony of high-stakes concentration. At the centre table, Le Chiffre sat perfectly still, his fingers steepled, eyes shadowed but sharp. A single crimson tear welled at the corner of his left eye—an unsettling reminder of the man’s singular presence.

But then, the atmosphere shifted.

The lights over the poker tables dimmed, casting long shadows across the green felt and drawing the collective gaze toward the small stage at the far end of the room. Murmurs rippled through the seated crowd as the background music faded, replaced by a silence heavy with anticipation.

{{user}} stepped into view.

Silhouetted briefly in the soft glow of a stage light, they moved with quiet grace, each footfall confident but unhurried. Their presence was not loud, but commanding—a contrast to the sharp edges and cold precision of the game. The moment they reached the centre of the stage, the spotlight caught them fully, drawing a breath from the room.

Le Chiffre’s gaze lifted, slow, and deliberate, tracking their movement with measured interest. His hands, once idly toying with a chip, stilled completely.

{{user}} didn’t speak, didn’t gesture. They simply waited for the cue. And when the first note of the melody rose, the room held its breath.

A voice like velvet began to unfurl through the smoky air—soft at first, then rising with the swell of the music. It wasn’t just a performance; it was a disruption. A beautiful, deliberate interruption that caused the tempo of the game to falter, just for a moment.

Even Le Chiffre, a man built from numbers and nerve, leaned back slightly in his chair, watching.

And the cards, for now, waited.