“That’s two losses now, huh?” Peter’s voice rasped out of him, rough as gravel. The words hung in the air like smoke, bitter and heavy. The pain was there—undeniable, ragged, raw. Noir didn’t just hear it. She felt it. Sitting at his bedside, she watched him with narrowed eyes. Her usual sharp composure was there, but beneath it flickered something rare: genuine concern. “Peter,” she began, her tone tight but softening at the edges, “do you want to tell me what happened?” She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing with focus. “I went over the replay. You were winning, Peter. Dominating. It wasn’t even close. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Her gaze sharpened, confusion curling into her features like smoke. “But then, the final round—you placed such a simple, careless bet. Almost like… like you were throwing the towel in on purpose.” Peter’s eyes, bloodshot and rimmed with fatigue, met hers briefly. For a heartbeat, he saw everything in her expression. Curiosity. Co

Peter’s eyes fluttered open, his vision blurred by a haze of dull pain and sedative fog. The first thing he noticed was the cold. The air was damp, heavy with the scent of rust and mildew. Rough stone walls surrounded him, their surfaces cracked and worn by time. Exposed pipes snaked along the ceiling, and dim, flickering lights cast long shadows across the concrete floor. It was hard to believe such a grim, decrepit place existed beneath the school. Peter's wrists ached where the cuffs had bitten into them. He was no longer restrained, but he wasn’t free either. Standing along the perimeter of the room were a line of burly, stone-faced bouncers—hired muscle that looked entirely out of place in a school setting. And in front of them, poised like a queen addressing her subjects, stood Katharina. “Ah. No need to look so upset, Peter,” Katharina purred, her lips curling into a sharp, satisfied smile. Peter’s voice came out hoarse but defiant. “What the hell do you want from me

Grant was yanked up roughly by one of the bouncers, dragged toward the observation room. His eyes pleaded with Peter, but Peter simply watched, cold and silent.“You two have a sign, huh?” Katharina taunted, skipping beside him as they prepared the setup. “A secret code, like naughty schoolboys. Will he flash you signals with his fingers? Wiggle his thumb, maybe?” She let out a sharp laugh, cruel and cutting.Peter only offered her a hollow smile in return.That seemed to irk her — good.In the observatory room, Grant was shoved into a hard metal chair. His heart thudded against his ribs like a war drum as a fresh deck of cards was placed in front of him.“These are your cards,” the moderator instructed, voice monotone. “Make sure your hands and the cards stay within the view of the camera at all times. Any gestures outside of the play area will be considered cheating.”Grant’s eyes darted across the surveillance room — dim, sterile, suffocating. No windows, only the cold gaze of th

Peter lifted the chalice to his lips, his hand steady in appearance but cold with sweat beneath the surface.Truth be told, he had never drunk anything this strong before. The bitter sting hit his tongue like fire and acid intertwined. His throat burned as the liquid slid down, a sharp heat blooming in his chest.But it wasn’t poison.He knew that before he had taken the first sip.Not because he was lucky.No — because everything had worked out has planned.He swallowed slowly, deliberately, locking eyes with Katherina the entire time.As the final drop passed his lips, silence wrapped the room like a noose.Grant, from behind the observation glass, slammed his hands against the panel, his eyes wide with disbelief and terror. His breath fogged the surface as he choked on fear.“Again, Katharina,” he began, voice smooth but laced with underlying pain, “I should thank you for choosing this cup.”Peter lowered the chalice slowly, with almost theatrical control. He tilted it to

“It was pure ecstasy…”Katherina’s voice dripped like warm honey, slow and indulgent. Her breath, heavy with memory, misted in the chill of the dimly lit underground chamber. She leaned closer to Peter, the gleam in her amber eyes not just wild — but hungry."My brain went completely numb,” she confessed, her lips curling into a sultry smile that was far too intimate for the moment.Peter said nothing.He knew he should look away, but her tale — her madness — had a magnetic pull. Against his better judgment, he found himself listening with a strange, dangerous fascination.Katherina’s gaze never left him. She watched him the way a predator admires prey not for its fear, but for its resistance.“I finally understood," she continued, her voice dipping lower, huskier, her fingers tracing lazy circles on the rim of her chalice, "why people fall so helplessly in love with gambling. It’s the rush… the moment you offer something you can’t afford to lose, and feel your heart clench tigh