THE CARDS OF FORTUNE: THE REVENGE OF THE SCORNED SON-IN-LAW

Chapter 3: The Cards Of Fortune

The old man gently placed his cup of coffee on the table, then rose from his chair. His movements were slow and deliberate as he walked toward one of the bookshelves lining the far wall.

Ethan watched him curiously as the old man stopped in front of a section filled with thick, ancient books. Some of their covers were cracked, while others were so faded that their titles could barely be read.

The old man ran his fingers slowly along the spines until he reached one particular spot.

He paused.

Then he reached behind the books.

Ethan frowned. “What are you doing?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.

The old man didn't answer. His fingers disappeared deeper between the books, and for a few seconds, Ethan could hear nothing except the quiet ticking of the clock.

Then came a soft wooden click.

The old man pulled out a small wooden box.

He carried it back to the table and placed it between them.

Ethan's eyes immediately settled on it.

The box looked ancient. Its dark wooden surface was worn smooth in some places and rough in others, with thin scratches running across the lid. Strange patterns had been carved into the wood, twisting into shapes Ethan couldn't recognize. The edges were blackened, almost as if the box had once been caught in a fire and somehow survived.

Ethan frowned at it. “What is that?” he asked, his curiosity overcoming his caution.

The old man didn't answer immediately. Instead, he slowly opened the lid.

Inside was a deck of cards.

Ethan's expression changed.

They were not ordinary playing cards.

Every card was completely black, darker than the wooden box surrounding them. Strange golden symbols covered their backs, and when the candlelight touched the surface, the symbols seemed to shift slightly, as though they were moving beneath the cards rather than being painted onto them.

Ethan leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. “What are those?”

The old man rested his fingertips gently on top of the deck. “Cards of Fortune,” he said, his voice suddenly serious.

Ethan looked at him skeptically. “Cards of Fortune?”

“They have existed longer than you can imagine,” the old man replied quietly.

Ethan gave him a doubtful look. “And what exactly do they do?”

The old man lifted the deck from the box with surprising care. “They reveal fortune,” he answered simply.

Ethan almost laughed.

“Fortune?” he repeated, unable to hide the skepticism in his voice. “What does that even mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” the old man said calmly.

He placed the deck on the table and slowly ran one finger across its black surface.

“Every card contains a destiny,” he explained, his voice low. “Some grant wealth. Some grant power. Some grant wisdom. Others can change a person's life in ways they could never imagine.”

He paused.

The warmth disappeared from his expression.

“And some bring terrible sickness.”

Ethan's faint smile disappeared.

The old man lifted his eyes and looked directly at him. “Some bring death,” he added quietly.

Silence settled over the room.

Even the ticking clock seemed louder now.

Ethan stared at the black deck for several seconds before looking back at the old man. “You expect me to believe that?” he asked, his voice carrying a mixture of disbelief and caution.

The old man didn't blink. “Whether you believe it or not doesn't change what these cards are,” he replied evenly.

Ethan leaned forward, resting his forearms against his knees. “Have you used them?”

The old man was silent for a moment.

“Yes,” he finally answered.

Ethan's eyes narrowed. “What happened?”

“I received my fortune.”

“And the people who drew bad cards?” Ethan asked, his voice becoming more serious. “What happened to them?”

The old man's expression grew colder.

“They received theirs too.”

A strange tightness formed in Ethan's throat.

“People have died?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“How many?”

The old man lowered his gaze to the deck.

“Enough.”

The single word settled heavily between them.

Ethan slowly leaned back.

He had expected some ridiculous story, perhaps an old man's attempt to entertain a tired stranger. But the certainty in the man's voice was difficult to dismiss.

There was no excitement in his eyes.

No attempt to convince Ethan.

No smile suggesting this was a joke.

He spoke as if he were describing something that had happened many times before.

The old man slowly separated the cards with his thumb.

“Once you draw a card, you accept its fortune,” he explained, his voice calm and deliberate. “There is no changing it afterward.”

Ethan stared at him. “And if I refuse?”

“You cannot refuse.”

The old man's answer came without hesitation.

Ethan's eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean?”

“Once you choose a card, whatever fortune is written upon it becomes yours,” the old man replied, meeting his gaze. “You cannot return it. You cannot exchange it. You cannot choose again because you dislike the result.”

Ethan looked down at the deck.

“So why would anyone play this game?” he asked, a bitter smile touching his lips. “If the cards can bring sickness or death, why would anyone willingly draw one?”

The old man smiled faintly.

“Because desperate people are willing to gamble with anything.”

The words struck Ethan harder than the old man could have known.

Desperate.

That was exactly what Ethan was.

For three years, he had watched his life disappear piece by piece.

His marriage was broken.

His dignity had been stripped away.

His money was gone.

His position in the Hawthorn family had become a joke.

Even his own parents depended on him for basic necessities.

He worked until his hands became rough and his body ached constantly, yet he still struggled to afford his father's medicine and enough food to keep his family going.

And for what?

So he could wake up tomorrow and face another problem?

So he could return to the same miserable job, endure another day of insults, then go home to a marriage that barely existed?

What exactly was he protecting anymore?

His pride?

He had already lost it.

His money?

There was almost none left.

His marriage?

That had been falling apart long before tonight.

His future?

Ethan wasn't even sure he had one.

His eyes slowly returned to the black deck.

For the first time since the old man had revealed the cards, the fear in Ethan's expression began to fade.

Something else replaced it.

Resignation.

Then determination.

Slowly, he looked up.

“What do I have to lose?” Ethan asked quietly.

The old man studied him for several seconds.

Then he answered, “Three cards.”

Ethan frowned. “Three?”

“You may choose three,” the old man replied.

“And I can choose anything?”

“Anything.”

Ethan looked back at the deck.

The black cards sat silently on the table, their golden symbols catching the flickering candlelight.

A few minutes ago, he would have laughed at the idea.

Now he couldn't.

He had seen the impossible happen before his eyes.

Whatever these cards were, they were real.

Ethan slowly straightened his back.

For the first time, there was no hesitation in his eyes.

“Then let's do it,” he said firmly.

The old man didn't smile.

He simply placed the deck in the center of the table.

Then he lifted one finger and tapped the top of the deck three times.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

The sound seemed strangely loud in the silent room.

The candles flickered.

Ethan's eyes immediately shifted toward them.

The flames bent sharply to one side.

He frowned.

The windows were closed.

There was no breeze.

Yet the flames continued to tremble as though something invisible had just moved through the room.

A cold sensation crawled slowly across Ethan's skin.

The hairs on his arms rose.

Then the cards moved.

Ethan froze.

The entire deck slowly lifted from the table.

His breath caught.

The cards weren't being thrown into the air.

They weren't falling.

They were rising.

One card floated several inches above the wooden surface.

Then another followed.

Then another.

Within seconds, the entire deck was suspended in the air.

Ethan pushed himself to his feet so quickly that the chair behind him scraped loudly across the floor.

“What the hell?” he whispered, staring at the impossible sight.

The cards began to rotate.

Their golden symbols started glowing.

At first, the light was faint, almost like the reflection of a candle flame.

Then it grew brighter.

The strange symbols seemed to move across the black surfaces, twisting and rearranging themselves as though the cards were alive.

One by one, the cards spread outward.

They moved with perfect precision until they formed a massive fan in the air between Ethan and the old man.

Ethan couldn't move.

His heart hammered against his ribs.

He searched for some explanation.

There had to be one.

Maybe there were wires.

Maybe there was some hidden mechanism inside the table.

Maybe the old man had prepared some elaborate trick.

But Ethan couldn't see anything.

There were no strings.

No wires.

No machinery.

Nothing supporting the cards.

They simply floated in the air.

Ethan's breathing became shallow, but the old man remained seated, completely calm. He didn't look surprised, neither did he look frightened.

He simply watched Ethan.

Then, with the faintest trace of a smile, he spoke.

“Choose,” he said quietly.