The heavy silence of the dimly lit hall seemed to wrap around Vayunesh and Ryota like a second skin. The voices of other players echoed faintly in the background, but here, in this quiet corner, the weight of conversation felt far heavier than the air itself.
Vayunesh sat with his back leaned against the cold wall, arms loosely folded, and his gaze locked on Ryota's expressionless face. After a few seconds of contemplative silence, he finally said, "Also… I think I'm here because the GAC saw some sort of 'potential' in me. Probably just based on my school records. They must have thought, 'Oh, this one scores well, let's see how he handles death games.'" He chuckled dryly.
Ryota smirked. "Yeah, they love doing that. Toss in a few so-called smart kids and see how long they last."
"But hey," Vayunesh leaned forward, "I've been meaning to ask. How did you win 181 gambles and only lose 16? That's not just probability anymore, that's... supernatural." His eyes narrowed. "Of course, manipulation and deception were included in your strategy, right?"
Ryota nodded with a half-smile. "Of course. But don't underestimate the role of luck in it. Luck has been my silent partner in every game I've played."
"So you're a lucky guy, huh?" Vayunesh asked, intrigued.
Ryota gave a small laugh, but there was no real joy in it. "Yeah. Lucky in games… cursed in life."
Vayunesh tilted his head. "So what's the dark backstory you're hiding behind that poker face of yours?"
Ryota's smile slowly faded. He looked down at his hands, thumbs fidgeting for a moment before he spoke. "My backstory, huh? You sure you want to hear something that might make your stomach turn?"
Vayunesh gave a slight nod. "I've already seen a lot. I think I can handle it."
Ryota exhaled sharply, as if trying to purge the memory before it even surfaced. "Alright… When I was still a kid—barely ten—there was a war. A bloody, pointless war between our country and Korea. Bombings, ambushes, smoke, screams... I watched it all happen through a hole in our basement. My parents died in the first explosion. My sister... she was with me, but she got crushed by a collapsing beam when we tried to escape. I was the only one who survived in my entire block."
Vayunesh stayed silent. The sound of distant chatter in the hall suddenly felt irrelevant.
"I had no one left. No family. No home. Nothing." Ryota continued. "At first, I tried to live a straight life. Shelters, orphanages, even tried working in a small restaurant. But the system? It's rigged. It always was. No one gave a damn. So I turned to gambling. Poker, dice, digital roulette… Anything where I could win money, thrill, and forget who I was."
He smiled bitterly. "I still miss my sister sometimes. But gambling helped numb that pain. It was the only thing that gave me control… even if it was just an illusion."
There was a long pause. Vayunesh didn't know what to say immediately. So Ryota filled the silence.
"In fact," he said, voice low but steady, "I treat my entire life as a gamble. Every moment is a bet. Every decision is a dice roll. And now, here in this… twisted game, I'll gamble again. But this time, it's on hardcore mode. I'm not here to survive. I'm here to play. If I win, I live. If I lose, I die. Simple."
Vayunesh finally spoke, his voice unusually soft. "So, you're not looking for redemption or revenge... just purpose?"
Ryota looked at him. "I guess you could say that. Or maybe I'm just too broken to care."
Vayunesh gave a small, understanding nod. "Still… you're not as emotionless as you pretend to be."
Ryota laughed again—this time with just a trace of warmth. "Maybe not. Maybe I've just been bluffing this whole time."
The overhead lights flickered for a moment, drawing their attention. A distant voice announced the next gathering phase for the players. But the two of them remained seated for a few more minutes, lost in the heaviness of shared stories and unspoken respect.
In this hellish game designed to break people, it was rare to find even a single thread of sincerity.
And in that moment, two threads had met.