Two Years Ago
Shhka-shhka-shhk.
Click!
The abandoned warehouse looms in a shroud of decay and neglect. Once gleaming steel and glass have dulled under years of grime. The air was thick with the mustiness of mold and stale tobacco smoke.
In the center of the warehouse, a solitary wooden table commands attention. Its surface, scarred and scratched from years of rough use, surrounded by a tight circle of gamblers. Their movements are cautious and deliberate. The occasional rattle of dice in cups punctuates the silence, mingling with murmurs of negotiation and bluffing.
Tension hangs heavily. Each roll of the dice was a heartbeat of suspense, a moment of potential fortune or disaster.
"Seven 5s," Roy announced suddenly.
His outburst draws the gaze of everyone at the table and the spectators watching from the sidelines. Their faces, briefly illuminated by his enthusiasm, reflect a mix of awe and irritation.
"Call. Spot on, Roy!" a middle-aged man with a solid physique exclaims, his voice filled with excitement. He had previously bid four 6s.
In Liar's dice, players can either raise the bid or call a bluff. If the challenged player's claim is false, they lose the round. If the claim is true, the challenger loses.
The dice were revealed. Including the three wilds (1s), there were more than enough 5s to match Roy's bid. Mr. Martin and the other players discarded one die. Each player should have five dice, concealed in their cups. Mr. Martin now has four dice remaining, while the other two players each have three. Roy's dice are untouched.
The discarded dice are gathered and set aside. The tension dissolves into a reflective silence as the next round begins. The warehouse echoes with the renewed rhythm of strategy and anticipation.
Mr. Martin, feeling the sting of repeated losses, quietly exits the table. But as he heads for the exit, a young woman's voice catches his attention. Curiosity piqued, he returns to observe.
The young woman challenged Roy to a duel.
Intrigued, Mr. Martin decided to stay. Typically, he would return home dejected, waiting for his rental income before gambling again.
"Let's play rock, paper, scissors five times," she suggested with a fierce glint in her eyes. Her voice, steady and unwavering, leaves no room for doubt. "After that, you can decide if you'll accept my challenge."
Roy, intrigued, tilts his head and crosses his arms. Curiosity sparkles in his eyes as he considers the challenge. Playing a simple game like rock, paper, scissors wasn't beneath him; rather, he was fascinated by her audacity and determination.
"Alright," Roy said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But if you lose, I expect you to head back home. Consider it a favor to your family."
A mischievous smile spreads across Yuna's face as if she's already savoring her impending victory. Her eyes glint with a playful confidence, and the corners of her mouth curl up in a self-assured grin.
Both players slam their fists into their palms and shout, "Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!"
Roy revealed his hand, fingers spread in the shape of scissors, while Yuna's slender, delicate hand was clenched into a solid fist, representing rock.
Roy's face tightens as he loses the first round. Leaning forward, he clenches his fist on his palm. "Ready."
"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!"
Her lips curl into a gentle smile as she wins again.
Roy sat back, stretching his arms and letting out a faint chuckle. His face, once marked by confident smirks, now displayed a more serious demeanor.
YOU ARE READING
The Power Of The Powerless Gambler
FantasíaDo you know the poorest woman who ever lived? Yuna moved to the city from a mountain village and took on numerous jobs to support her elderly parents and two twin sisters with special needs. She washed dishes at restaurants, worked as a dog walker...
