"The Last Bet"
The air is thick with smoke.
Poker chips *clack*, cards *snap*. The only light comes from flickering chandeliers.
At the center table sits **RAY**, mid-30s, eyes bloodshot, sleeves rolled up. He’s been here too long. Across from him — **THE DEALER**, pale, expressionless, wearing a cracked porcelain mask.
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**DEALER**
(last hand of the night)
Care to make it interesting?
**RAY**
(grins nervously)
It’s already interesting. I’m broke.
**DEALER**
Not quite. You still have… *your soul.*
The table laughs — or maybe it’s the room echoing.
RAY hesitates, then pushes his last chips forward.
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**RAY**
Deal.
Cards are dealt. The room quiets.
Every eye in the casino turns toward him. Shadows lean closer.
He flips his cards — *Full House.*
RAY smirks.
The DEALER turns his — *Four of a Kind.*
Silence. Then, the lights flicker red.
---
**RAY**
Wait— no, that’s not possible. You shuffled—
**DEALER**
You played fair. I didn’t.
The clock on the wall strikes **midnight**.
The chips on the table melt into black tar, spreading across Ray’s hands.
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**RAY**
(terrified)
What—what’s happening?!
**DEALER**
Debt always finds its collector.
The other players vanish — leaving only shadows in their seats.
The tar crawls up Ray’s arms, his veins glowing crimson.
He tries to scream, but the sound is *muffled* — like underwater.
His reflection in a nearby mirror shows **empty eye sockets**, oozing darkness.
---
**DEALER**
(softly)
Happy Halloween.
He flips one last card toward the camera — **THE DEVIL** tarot.
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STAKE：gs400889
