No one remembers when Table 13 first appeared in the casino. It wasn’t on the floor plans, but every morning it waited in a dark corner, its felt worn and its light flickering.
Sometimes a man in a grey suit sits there—tall, silent, eyes too pale. The cards shuffle themselves, and gamblers drifting past can’t help but sit down.
The first hand is always a win.
So is the second.
By the third, the air turns cold.
If the player tries to leave, the man finally speaks:
“One more hand.”
The last cards are marked with strange symbols—spirals, black suns, doorways with no handles. Everyone knows, without being told, that losing means losing more than money.
Some flee and never gamble again.
Some stay and vanish, leaving only a new portrait on the VIP wall by morning.
But Table 13 remains, waiting, its light flickering—
as if it’s watching.
Stake ID: bredovred58
