2026-04-02 01:20:54The waiting room was white and empty.
Muneer sat in the same corner as before. The others had spread out across the room—Ali on one wall, Omar on the opposite, Rashid near the door. No one spoke. The silence from the end of the last game had followed them here, heavier now, settling into the space between them like something solid. Muneer looked at Rashid. Rashid was staring at the floor. His hands were clasped between his knees. He had not looked at Muneer since they left the game room. Muneer wanted to say something. He didn't know what. Sorry felt too small. I didn't know felt like an excuse. He had said both already. They had changed nothing. The door opened. They rose. No one waited for anyone else. They walked through in silence. --- The new room was smaller than the last. A single screen dominated the far wall. Seven chairs were arranged in a semicircle facing it. No table. No boxes. No keys. Just the screen and the chairs and the white light that came from everywhere. They sat. The voice came. "Welcome to your third game. This game is called The Duel." The screen lit up. Text appeared. "The rules are simple. Players will be paired. Each pair will play a single round of Rock Paper Scissors." "No ties. If both players choose the same, they will play again until there is a winner." "The winner receives the loser's total accumulated winnings from all previous games." "The loser retains nothing from previous games." The words hung on the screen. Muneer read them twice. Then a third time. Everything. The winner takes everything. He looked at his total in his memory. Five thousand dollars. Enough to buy time for the shop. Not enough to save it. But it was something. It was the difference between the bank calling tomorrow and the bank waiting another month. If he lost, it was gone. He looked at Rashid. Rashid was staring at the screen. His total was three thousand dollars. Less than Muneer's. But three thousand dollars was still three thousand dollars. Food. Rent. His children. If he lost, it was gone. "Pairings have been determined based on player performance and interactions in previous games." The screen updated. Names appeared in pairs. Pair 1: Samira — Fatima Pair 2: Omar — Tarek Pair 3: Muneer — Rashid Player exempt from play: Ali "Ali, as the player with the highest total, is exempt from this game. His total remains unchanged." Ali's total appeared on the screen: $16,000. Ali let out a slow breath. He leaned back in his chair. Then he turned his head toward Omar. "That worked out well," he said. His voice was light, almost casual. "All that giving. All that 'I don't trust you but I'll give you money anyway.' And here I am. Sixteen thousand. Not playing. And here you are." He smiled. It did not reach his eyes. "Thanks for that, by the way. Couldn't have done it without you." Omar's jaw tightened. His hands gripped the arms of his chair. "Shut up, Ali." Ali's smile widened. "What? I'm grateful. You gave me eight thousand. I gave you nine thousand. Very generous. Very noble. And now I keep mine and you risk yours. Perfect system." Omar stood up. His chair scraped against the floor. "Sit down," the voice said. Flat. Mechanical. Omar did not sit. He stared at Ali. "You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to be sitting here, across from Tarek, knowing one of us walks away with nothing?" Ali shrugged. "I don't know what you wanted. I know what you did. You ran. Then you tried to buy your way back. And now you're going to lose everything because I'm exempt and you're not." "You don't know I'm going to lose." "I know I'm not going to lose." Ali's voice was cold now. "That's the difference between us." Omar stood there, breathing hard. Then he sat down. Ali looked away, the smile gone from his face. --- The voice spoke again. "Samira and Fatima. You will play first." The screen split. Two large buttons appeared. Rock. Paper. Scissors. Samira and Fatima rose from their chairs. They walked to the center of the room, facing each other. Samira's hands were shaking. Fatima stood still, her arms at her sides. "I don't want to do this," Samira said quietly. Fatima nodded. "I know." "One of us will lose everything." Fatima was quiet for a moment. Then she reached out and took Samira's hands. "Whatever happens," she said, "the help was real.. What happens now doesn't change that." Samira's eyes were wet. "It changes everything." Fatima squeezed her hands. Then she let go. "I'm ready," she said. The screen prompted them. "Choose." Samira looked at the buttons. Rock. Paper. Scissors. Three symbols. Three choices. No strategy. No skill. Just luck. She pressed. Fatima pressed. The screen displayed: Samira: Rock Fatima: Scissors "Samira wins. Fatima loses." Samira's total updated: $10,000. Fatima's total: $0. Fatima stared at the screen for a long moment. Then she nodded slowly. She walked back to her chair and sat down, her hands folded in her lap, her face calm. Samira stood in the center of the room, her hand still raised from where she had pressed the button. "I'm sorry," she whispered. Fatima did not look at her. "It was luck. Nothing to be sorry for." Samira walked back to her chair. She sat heavily, her face pale. --- "Omar and Tarek. You will play next." Omar stood. He walked to the center of the room. Tarek rose slowly, adjusting his cuffs, and walked to face him. They stood opposite each other. Omar's hands were clenched at his sides. Tarek's were loose, relaxed. "You don't seem worried," Omar said. Tarek tilted his head. "It's luck. Worrying doesn't change luck." "You have five thousand dollars. I have eleven thousand. If I win, I take yours. If you win, you take mine." Tarek nodded. "That is correct." Omar stared at him. "You don't care which one of us walks away?" Tarek was quiet for a moment. Then he said: "My business partner took everything from me. Everything I built. Everything I trusted him with. After that, a game of Rock Paper Scissors doesn't feel like much." He looked at the screen. "Let's play." The buttons appeared. Omar stared at them. Eleven thousand dollars. His mother's treatment. Months of time he had won back through luck and guilt and the choices of others. If he lost, it was gone. He pressed. Tarek pressed. The screen displayed: Omar: Scissors Tarek: Paper Omar stared at the screen. He had won. "Omar wins. Tarek loses." Omar's total updated: $16,000. Tarek's total: $0. Tarek looked at the screen. His face did not change. He nodded once, slowly, as if confirming something he already knew. He walked back to his chair and sat down. Omar stood in the center of the room. He had sixteen thousand dollars now. Sixteen thousand. More than he started with. More than enough for his mother's treatment. He looked at Tarek. The man was sitting with his hands folded, his posture as composed as it had been at the beginning. "You're not angry?" Tarek looked at him. "Anger is for things that can be changed." He said nothing else. Omar walked back to his chair. --- "Muneer and Rashid. You will play last." Muneer stood. His legs were heavy. He walked to the center of the room. Rashid did not move. Muneer waited. The room was silent. Then Rashid stood. He walked to the center of the room and stopped in front of Muneer. They faced each other. "You tried to give me ten thousand dollars," Rashid said. Muneer nodded. "I did." "You didn't know the rule." "No." Rashid studied him. His face was hard to read. "I don't know if I believe you." Muneer said nothing. There was nothing to say. "I don't know if I believe myself," He shook his head. "Maybe you made a mistake. Maybe I made a mistake. Maybe we both did. Now one of us loses everything." He looked at the screen. "Let's get this over with." The buttons appeared. Rock. Paper. Scissors. Muneer looked at Rashid. He thought about the closet. About Rashid pushing him out first when the seekers came. About the ten thousand he had tried to give to Rashid. He thought about his father's shop. About the final notice. About the woman who had taken the rose. He pressed. Rashid pressed. The screen displayed: Muneer: Paper Rashid: Rock Muneer stared at the screen. He had won. Rashid stared at the screen. His total appeared: $0. Muneer's total updated: $8,000. He had started with nothing. He had given away half his money in the second game. He had tried to give away more. And now he had eight thousand dollars. Rashid had nothing. Rashid looked at the screen. Then he looked at Muneer. "You won." Muneer opened his mouth to speak. To say something. Anything. Rashid held up his hand. "Don't." He walked back to his chair and sat down. Muneer stood alone in the center of the room. He looked at his total. Eight thousand dollars. Enough to save the shop. Enough to clear the debt. Enough to do everything he came here to do. He felt nothing. He walked back to his chair and sat down. --- The voice returned. "The third game is complete. Winners have retained their totals. Losers have been reset to zero." The final totals appeared: Omar: $16,000 Ali: $16,000 Muneer: $8,000 Samira: $10,000 Tarek: $0 Fatima: $0 Rashid: $0 "The fourth game will begin when all players are ready." The door opened. No one moved. Ali was the first to stand. He walked toward the door. He stopped beside Omar. "You have sixteen thousand," Ali said. "Same as me." Omar looked at him. Ali's face was unreadable. "That means we're even. Not because of the money. Because we both came out the same." He walked out. Omar sat in his chair, staring at the screen. Samira stood. She walked to Fatima. She knelt beside her chair. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't want—" Fatima touched her face. "I know." Samira stayed there for a moment, her head bowed. Then she stood and walked out. Fatima followed. Tarek rose. He looked at Omar. He said nothing. He walked out. --- Muneer sat in his chair. Rashid sat in his. The room was empty except for them. Rashid spoke first. "You have eight thousand dollars." Muneer nodded. "Yes." "That's enough. For your shop. For the debt." "Yes." Rashid was quiet for a moment. "You tried to give me ten thousand. You ended up with eight. I ended up with nothing." He stood. "I don't know if that's fair. I don't know if any of this is fair. But I decided to keep going." He walked toward the door. Muneer sat alone in the room. He looked at his total. Eight thousand dollars. Enough to save the shop. Enough to do what he came here to do. ---
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
Chapter 39 : The Promise Kept
Three days passed.Muneer played. The games were endless. The walls were white. The light was bright. He was beginning to forget what the sun looked like.He sat on the bed in his small room. The tablet glowed on the table.Next game begins in one hour.He had stopped reading the messages. He had stopped caring about the numbers. He just played. He just survived.The door opened.The masked man stood in the hallway."Follow," he said.Muneer stood. He walked to the door.---The arena was different today.A large screen dominated the far wall. Chairs were arranged in a semicircle. Players sat in silence, their faces pale, their eyes hollow.Muneer found a seat near the back. He waited.The masked man appeared on the stage."Welcome to the next game," he said. "This game is called The Reunion. Players will be paired with someone from their past. Someone they know. Someone they trust. Or someone they betrayed."Muneer's chest tightened."Each pair will compete together. If they win, bo
Chapter 38 The Will to Continue
The door closed behind Jihad.Muneer sat alone in the white room. The screen was blank. The walls were white. The light was bright.He had lost. He had stayed. He was trapped.He thought about Layan. Her face. Her smile. Her tears. He thought about his mother. The way she waited for him at the kitchen table. The way she prayed for him every day.He thought about Jihad. Walking through the door. Saving his father.He should have felt despair. He should have felt hopeless. But something else stirred in his chest. Something stubborn.He would not give up.He stood. He looked at the screen."I'm still here," he said. "I'm not broken. Not yet."The screen remained blank. The room remained silent.But Muneer had made his decision.---The masked man appeared."You have been assigned to a new game," he said.Muneer nodded. "I'm ready."The masked man tilted his head. "You are not like the others. Most players who lose give up. They stop trying. They become shells.""I'm not most players."Th
Chapter 37 The Trap
Muneer and Jihad walked toward the exit.The hallway was long. White. Endless. But Muneer could see the door at the end. The door that led to the outside. The door that led to freedom.Jihad walked beside him. The money was in his pocket. Fifty thousand dollars. Enough to save his father. Enough to start over.Muneer had fifty thousand left. Enough for Layan. Enough for her mother. Enough for the debt.They were going home.They reached the door. Muneer reached for the handle.The voice returned."You are not permitted to leave."Muneer froze. His hand hovered over the handle."What?""You have not completed the final round. All players must complete the final round before leaving."Jihad stepped forward. "We won. We have the money. We're done.""The game is not complete. There is one final round."Muneer's chest tightened. "We didn't sign up for more.""You signed up for the games. The games are not over until we say they are over."Muneer looked at Jihad. The teenager's face was pal
Chapter 36 The Separation
The white room felt different now.Muneer sat across from Jihad. The money was real. Fifty thousand dollars each. Enough to save Jihad's father. Enough to clear Layan's debt. Enough to start over.But the game was not over.Jihad leaned forward. His eyes were bright. His hands were steady."We should stay," he said.Muneer frowned. "Stay?""We won. We're good at this. Together, we can win more. We can double our money. We can be safe. Really safe.""Jihad—""I know. I know it's dangerous. But I can't go home with just enough. I need to be sure. My father's treatments are expensive. What if the money runs out? What if he needs more?"Muneer was quiet. He thought about Layan. About her mother. About the debt that still loomed over them.He thought about the image of the pregnant woman in the doorway. The hope in her eyes. The fear.He thought about his own father. The phone call he had ignored. The guilt he still carried."One more round," Muneer said. "Just one. Then we leave."Jihad n
Chapter 35 The Partner
Muneer sat alone in the white room.The walls were closing in. The light was too bright. His hands were shaking. Ten thousand dollars in debt. He had come here to win money and now he owed money.He thought about Layan. Her face when she found out. Her eyes. Her tears.He thought about the woman, Nadia. A doctor trying to save her mother. She had won. He had lost. He couldn't even be angry at her. Her story was true. Her desperation was real.His story was real too. But it wasn't enough.The door opened. The masked man stood in the hallway."The next round begins now. Follow me."Muneer stood. He followed.---The hallway was longer this time. More turns. More doors. More players in gray sweats, their faces pale, their eyes hollow.They stopped at a door. The masked man opened it.Inside, a room. Larger than the last. A table in the center. Two chairs. A screen on the wall.A figure sat in one of the chairs. Young. Thin. Familiar."Jihad?"The teenager looked up. His face was pale. Hi
Chapter 34 The New Game
The buzzer woke Muneer at dawn.He sat up. The room was white. The walls were white. The light was white. Everything was white.He had not slept.He stood. He splashed water on his face. He looked in the mirror. His eyes were red. His face was pale. He looked like a ghost.He walked to the door. It opened.The masked man was waiting."Follow," he said.Muneer followed.---The hallway was long. White. Endless. They passed doors. Rooms. Other players. Their faces were pale. Their eyes were hollow. They looked like him.They reached a door. The masked man opened it.Inside, a room. Small. White. Two chairs facing each other. A table between them. On the table, a single card."Sit," the masked man said.Muneer sat.The masked man left. The door closed.Muneer sat alone in the white room. He waited.---The door opened.A woman walked in. She was young. Mid-twenties. Dark hair. Dark eyes. She wore gray sweats like him. Her hands were clasped. Her face was calm.She sat in the chair across
You may also like
Fist Emperor Of The Universe
CrazeNovel53.3K viewsThe Tycoon Game System
Dee Hwang 24.0K viewsEthereal Adventure System
Dark Crafter44.0K viewsSystem for you Darling!
CrazeNovel23.4K viewsThe God Living in My Phone
Wiens77333 viewsThe Fruit of Unpredictable Divinity
Khayra Pena138 viewsThe Conqueror's Leader
S Thebe 38 viewsGuardian of the Alley
Queen_des77 views