The underground arena of Nayga's lower plaza was pulsing with chatter and gold light.
The scent of burnt fuel and sweat hung thick in the air as hundreds of gamblers whispered around the central ring. A smooth black marble platform rimmed with neon-gold lines, glowing faintly like a heart under a skin of stone.
Tom sat back in the waiting lounge with his gray trench coat still buttoned up. Harriet, beside him in his signature red coat, scarf and fedora, was leaning on the railing, a half-eaten apple in hand.
"You sure about this one?" Harriet asked, eyes fixed on the crowd. "Last guy almost shot your kidneys out of existence. Now this.... emotional poker thing?"
Tom smirked. "Yeah, today we will learn how to deliver maximum amount of emotional damage. I just want to see what happens when lies have a burn mark."
The speaker above them buzzed faintly before crackling into life.
"Match 4 of Group D: Albert Newton versus Varn Okra!"
The crowd erupted. The name Varn Okra carried a kind of chaotic reputation in the underground.
Around the opposite gate, Varn strutted into the light. A flamboyant figure with a crimson vest open halfway down his chest. Golden earrings swinging with each step and a grin that looked permanently carved into his face. His hair was a silky mess of white strands, half-tied, half-wild, giving him the look of a man who could charm and scam in the same breath.
He twirled a rose in his gloved fingers, winked at several women in the audience and then theatrically blew a kiss toward Harriet's section.
"Oh, no," Harriet muttered, biting his lip in disgust. "He's one of those horny dudes."
Tom tilted his hat. "He looks like he just crawled out of a perfume shop explosion."
"Correction." Harriet said, "he is the explosion."
Varn threw both arms wide as he reached the center of the arena. "Ladies and gentlemen of love and chaos. The heartbroken kid, the truth-teller, the emotional disaster—Varn Okra is here!"
Half the crowd cheered; the other half booed, equally entertained.
Tom walked out, his usual calm expression unbothered by the crowd's noise. His boots clicked against the marble as he approached the opposite side of the ring.
"Albert Newton." Varn said with a teasing smirk. "The quiet detective. I've heard you don't laugh much. Don't worry, sir. I'll fix that."
Tom glanced at him flatly. "If you try to fix me, make sure you don't break yourself first."
Varn laughed heartily, glinting eyes with mischief. "Oh, I love when they talk cold."
The announcer's voice boomed across the arena, silencing the noise.
"This round's game is, The Emotional Wager.
Both contestants will draw five cards representing the core human emotions—Joy, Rage, Fear, Trust and Greed. Each card symbolizes an aspect of their heart."
Two mechanical arms descended from the ceiling, placing two glowing decks before both players.
"Players will shuffle and hold their five cards secretly. Each round, they will choose one card and play it face-down."
"Then, each must describe how they feel. If their declared emotion matches the card, it glows. If it's a lie, the card burns."
A fiery shimmer rippled through the air as a display showed the five emotions in glowing letters.
"However, if both declare the same emotion, both cards burn regardless of truth. The universe hates emotional copycats."
A small wave of laughter rolled through the audience.
"Sixty seconds per round. If you fail to speak in time, both automatically lose one random card."
Harriet crossed his arms. "So, in short, emotion roulette with psychological fire."
Tom replied calmly, "Exactly a kind of game I'd expect in underground. Absolute breakdown."
The announcer continued, deepening tone,
"The wager: Emotional capacity. The loser will forever lose the ability to feel one of the five emotions they wagered."
Gasps scattered across the crowd.
"Additionally, if a player burn all five cards, their emotional core will collapse, leaving them permanently desensitized for seven real days."
Varn's smirk widened. "A week without emotions? I've done worse on hangovers last night on bed."
Tom remained still, eyes unreadable.
"Contestants, place your hands on the platform."
They obeyed. The marble pulsed with gold light, linking both decks through thin glowing threads. The audience fell completely silent.
"You may begin shuffling your emotions."
Varn spun his cards like a street magician, winking toward Harriet again. He rolled his eyes. Tom merely shuffled his slowly, gaze sharp, movements quiet.
The announcer raised his hand.
"Round One…. begins in sixty seconds."
The countdown began, echoing through the chamber. Tom exhaled quietly. His fingers rested on the first card.
Varn smiled, leaning forward.
"Let's see if your heart can lie better than mine, detective."
The countdown faded.
3.… 2…. 1.… Begin!
The golden light that rimmed the platform brightened. Both contestants stood perfectly still on their seat. Varn with his usual smirk, Tom with his deadpan calm. Only their fingers twitched above the five face-down cards glowing faintly on the table between them.
A faint electronic chime signaled the start of the first round.
"Round One"
Varn leaned forward, elbows on the edge, lips curling. "My current emotion?" He gave a half-laugh. "I feel joy. Because I'm looking at a man who doesn't know what joy looks like."
The audience chuckled.
Tom didn't react. He kept his eyes half-lidded, voice quiet and exact. "I feel.... calm. Mayhem after a peaceful sigh."
Harriet, in the crowd, frowned slightly. He could tell neither man was bluffing. Varn's tone was flamboyant but honest. Tom's too still to fake.
They each drew one card without looking, sliding it face-down onto the illuminated ring.
"Reveal."
The cards flipped automatically.
Varn's card glowed a bright amber—JOY—shining pure and golden. The crowd applauded lightly.
Tom's glowed a deep, ocean-blue—TRUST—but instead of steady light, it flickered, as if unsure whether to live or burn. It seemed like it might burn, then steadied unexpectedly.
A whisper ran through the audience.
The announcer's voice rang again, softer this time.
"Albert Newton—partial truth. Card preserved but unstable."
Varn chuckled. "So, detective, you say you're calm, but your heart says you're trying to trust someone. Is it yourself?"
Tom glanced at him, expression unreadable. "Whatever, calm and trust are the same when you have no one left to fool."
That quiet reply silenced even the nearest section of the crowd.
Varn's grin faltered for the first time. He tapped the edge of his card lightly.
Tom's mind was turning.
He knew emotion was a weapon here. But not of logic of rhythm. Lies weren't just what you said; they were the spaces between words, the delay between breath and heartbeat.
He could already tell Varn wasn't careless.
He was timing his truths.
Tom's lips barely moved as he whispered to himself,
"Then I'll learn your tempo."
The next chime rang.
Round Two, begins.
Varn leaned back, fingers brushing the edge of his second card. The first round had given him exactly what he wanted. Albert Newton wasn't predictable.
His card had wavered between truth and falsehood, meaning the man didn't even trust himself. That flicker, that hesitation, was a window.
He spun his next card slowly between two fingers. The corners scraped on the table. The scent of burnt resin from the first round still lingered. The light in the room pulsed in rhythm with the timer above.
Tick, tick, tick—like a heartbeat teasing both men.
Varn's thoughts swirled like smoke.
If I go for a pure emotion, he'll mirror it. If I lie, he'll track my hesitation.
He smirked.
So I'll give him a truth wrapped in contradiction. Stoic and collected people like him, they overthink until they choke.
He slid one card onto the table face-down not rushing out. "Rage" he muttered under his breath, though not declaring yet. Just tasting the word. He wanted it to seep through his presence, wanted Albert to sense anger without confirmation.
Across the table, Tom hadn't moved. His hand hovered above his own cards, fingers relaxed motionlessly. His eyes were fixed on Varn.
He was tracing the patterns in the first round. The flicker in his own trust card wasn't an accident. The game wasn't simply reading emotions. It was measuring alignment. The more their emotional wavelengths overlapped, the brighter the result. Lies weren't merely verbal. They were frequencies breaking rhythm.
He whispered to himself inaudibly, "He's trying to synchronize. A duel of hearts without touching."
The announcer's neutral voice echoed from above,
"Forty seconds remain."
Varn smiled wider. He spoke casually, his tone a calculated tease.
"You know, they say calm men fear their own rage most. You hid it very deep. That is what makes you shake when you speak the word 'trust.'"
Tom's eyelid twitched. It wasn't irritation. It was recognition. The man across him wasn't just guessing; he was probing.
The air thickened. The timer's ticking grew louder.
Varn tilted his head, tapping the table once with his finger. "You're too careful, detective. People who think too much always leave one emotion untouched—fear."
Tom didn't react. But the faintest smirk crept at the edge of his mouth, gone the next instant.
"Fifteen seconds remains." the announcer said.
Every gaze locked on the two players, yet Albert Newton still hadn't moved. His hands remained calmly folded on the table. Not an inch of his face twitched. The ticking from the timer pulsed one last second.
"TIME UP!"
Both cards ignited simultaneously. The "JOY" before Albert and the "RAGE" before Varn burst into pale blue flame, curling at the edges, turning to ash that rose like fireflies in the dim air.
Gasps rippled through the chamber. Even the announcer's voice stuttered for a fraction of a second. Something that had never happened before.
"Both…. both cards—burned! Mister Newton.… did not place any card!"
The air wavered with tension. Varn's expressions changed. "What—what the hell are you doing?" he barked, half-standing from his chair. His own "Rage" card was gone. His emotions had flared at the last instant, the truth was exposed. But Albert hadn't even played.
Albert sat there, unblinking, his shadow still against the table. "Observation." he said quietly. "Sometimes, you don't have to act to make someone show their hand."
Murmurs broke out around. Even the announcer hesitated, recalibrating the display.
[Current tally: Albert Newton—4 intact cards. Varn Okra—3 intact cards.]
Varn's teeth clicked together. "You.…" He realized it. He realized it too late. The match wasn't about who had the stronger emotions. It was about resource management.
The rules had stated. You may reuse a glowed card, but not consecutively.
Meaning Albert had willingly forfeited his chance to play, let his unused emotion burn, in order to force a reaction from Varn. The system registered his "Joy" card as "inactive," not "lost," since it wasn't chosen. Varn's "Rage" had combusted as a truth but unfortunately, useless.
Albert tilted his head, voice calm but cutting. "You took the bait. You assumed stillness meant fear."
Varn's mind spiraled, tracing through the loopholes. The burn rules…. the timer conditions…. announcer confirmed it a second later,
"Because Mister Newton did not select within the time, his card is considered neutral, not false. Mister Okra's burn counts as a loss. Newton now maintains four cards; Okra, three."
The crowd stirred again, whispering theories. Varn's jaw tightened.
So that's it….
He saw the entire plan unfold in his mind, horrifyingly simple and brilliant. Albert wasn't playing rounds. He was playing entropy.
The plan was to use the first round as data to determine emotional correlation. Then, in the second round, he had withdrawn entirely, triggering a non-response. By doing so, he tricked the system into logging Varn's aggression as unstable.
From here on out, if Albert remained passive, refusing to play or simply recalling Varn's declared emotion out of sync, the system would burn all of Varn's cards one by one in upcoming rounds.
And when all of Varn's were gone, Albert would still have one left. Enough to win by default.
"He's stalling me...." Varn whispered, realization slamming into him. "He's going to make me self-destruct."
Albert's calm eyes flicked toward him. "You don't defeat a man like me by shouting. You burn yourself before the flame reaches my hand."
The announcer's voice trembled for the first time,
"Round Two concluded. Current score stands: Albert Newton, four cards intact. Varn Okra, three cards intact."
The tension was unbearable. Varn's heart pounded. He could see his loss on the horizon. Yet Albert's motionless expression offered just precision.
Varn grinned, strained but defiant. "You're not the only one who reads loopholes, detective. You think you've cornered me? I've got a trick that flips the entire table."
Albert blinked once, slow, patient.
"I expected no less."
The lights dimmed slightly as the table recalibrated for the next round. The air buzzed like static.
"Prepare your third card," the announcer said, voice steady again but trembling at the edge of awe.
Varn didn't move yet. He watched Albert's hands, his silent shadow stretching across the table. He realized something worse. Albert wasn't just calculating rules. He was manipulating Varn's psyche itself, the whole game.
The timer began to tick down again.
sixty seconds and both men stared, unmoving, the burnt ashes of "Joy" and "Rage" still swirling between them like ghosts of what emotions once meant.