Ren's senses were beginning to fade.
Not abruptly. Not violently.
They were slipping away the way warmth leaves a room when a window is left open too long.
Slow. Almost unnoticeable.
But irreversible.
The heightened clarity from earlier — that impossible expansion of perception — was dissolving.
What was that?How did I do that?
He replayed it in his mind.
The moment when everything had aligned.
The cards.
The breathing.
The heartbeats.
The micro–expressions.
He had heard everything.
Seen everything.
Felt everything.
Now it was like watching the same world through fogged glass.
Still there.
But distant.
Muffled.
He could still faintly hear the rhythm of the table.
Chips stacking.
Fingers tapping felt.
Fabric shifting.
Breathing.
Heartbeats.
Hiroki's heartbeat.
Still audible.
Still measurable.
But no longer overwhelming.
And that scared him.
Because the power had not been deliberate.
He hadn't summoned it.
It had simply happened.
And now it was leaving him.
Hiroki had begun to lose small pots.
Calculated losses.
Controlled.
But losses.
Ren knew exactly when to fold.
Exactly when to raise.
Exactly when Hiroki was bluffing.
It wasn't intuition.
It was reading.
He could still read him.
Barely.
"Hey, Ren," Hiroki said, leaning back slightly. "Still playing calculated? Aren't you going to take a risk? Or follow your friend Haruto?"
The tone was meant to be mocking.
Sharp.
Superior.
But something underneath it trembled.
His eyes were too focused.
His jaw too tight.
He wasn't fully stable.
He felt it too.
Control slipping.
A new round began.
The dealer's hands moved with precise neutrality.
Cards slid across the felt.
Ren picked his up.
Two sevens.
A pair.
A good starting hand.
Not dominant.
But dangerous if developed.
"Nice," he whispered internally.
He studied Hiroki's breathing.
Stable.
But forced.
Does he know I can still read him?
He didn't seem to.
Not earlier.
If he had noticed, he would have adjusted.
He hadn't.
Which meant—
He was still confused.
I'll win.
The flop came down.
Ace.
Ace.
Five.
The sound of the cards hitting the table felt louder than it should have.
Ren's pupils adjusted slowly.
Two aces on the board.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
Hiroki's fingers brushed the ring again.
The faint metallic scrape echoed in Ren's ear.
Too loud.
Too sharp.
Like metal dragged across bone.
His focus snapped toward it.
There it is again.
The ring.
He had been doing it for several rounds now.
Small rotation.
Thumb pressing lightly.
Metal against skin.
Was it unconscious?
A tell?
A signal?
Hiroki didn't strike him as someone careless enough to develop a visible habit.
Especially not at this level.
Ren replayed every previous hand.
Every time the ring moved.
What followed?
Strong hands?
Bluffs?
Mixed.
No obvious pattern.
Which made it worse.
If it wasn't random…
Then what was it?
He has something strong.
Ren tuned into his pulse.
Still audible.
Faster than baseline.
But controlled.
Pocket aces?
Statistically possible.
Not impossible.
But—
The board already showed two.
Meaning only one remained.
Probability calculations layered themselves across Ren's thoughts.
He saw them as structures.
Branching trees.
Outcomes splitting into percentages.
"Come on, kid," Hiroki said sharply. "Play already. Or are you planning to sit here all night?"
"You're only a few years older than me, idiot," Ren replied, then smiled faintly.
Deliberate.
Provoking.
" I'll stay here all night, but you'll be the one leaving"
Hiroki's jaw tightened.
His teeth pressed together.
Too tight.
Ren could almost hear the friction.
And then—
Something else.
A pulse shift.
Not from Hiroki.
From the dealer.
Subtle.
But present.
Ren's mind stalled for half a second.
The dealer had been perfectly neutral all game.
Breathing consistent.
Heart rate stable.
No fluctuations.
Now—
A spike.
Concern.
Why?
Why would he react?
Ren's eyes flicked toward him.
The face was blank.
Expressionless.
But the body had betrayed him.
Ren returned his gaze to Hiroki.
His hatred was visible now.
Not performative.
Real.
The turn came.
Ten.
Ren recalculated.
He didn't need a calculator.
He felt the numbers.
A seven would give him a full house.
Two remaining in the deck.
Out of unseen cards.
The probability shimmered before him like heat distortion.
It felt—
Higher.
Unnaturally so.
But that was impossible.
He steadied himself.
Don't make mistakes.
Hiroki had aces.
Or something close.
But even if he did—
I'll bluff him, Ren decided. Even if he has more than me. I'll attack his psyche.
"Hey, Hiroki," Ren said casually, "while you're playing with that ring, are you signaling the guards to escort you out?"
The reaction was immediate.
Hiroki's pulse spiked.
But so did the dealer's.
Simultaneously.
Ren felt the synchronization.
And something cold crawled along his spine.
Why does he react with him?Why does he feel more connected to him?What's going on between those two?
No.
No.
Cheating wasn't possible.
Rules were absolute.
Surveillance was absolute.
No signals allowed.
No communication.
It had been clear.
Hiroki leaned forward slightly.
"What are you implying?"
His voice was different.
Lower.
Darker.
Ren shrugged.
"Nothing."
He laughed softly.
Arrogant.
Measured.
It hit.
Hiroki hated that laugh.
And then—
The river.
Seven.
Time fractured.
The card rotated slowly in Ren's vision as it settled on the felt.
Seven.
The number burned in his perception.
The probability tree collapsed into certainty.
Full house.
Three sevens.
Board pair of aces.
His breathing slowed.
Not accelerated.
Slowed.
Absolute composure.
He didn't hesitate.
"Don't raise," Ren said quietly. "Just show me the ace."
Silence expanded across the table.
Hiroki didn't move.
His gaze dropped.
For the first time—
He looked uncertain.
Ren revealed his hand.
Full house.
The sound of cards touching felt echoed in the heavy air.
Hiroki slowly turned over his ace.
The last one.
Inside him, thoughts collided violently.
How did that idiot know? How did he hit the last card?Reiji… isn't reading the signals anymore…
His jaw trembled slightly.
Reiji…
No.
Focus.
Control.
He couldn't feel the rhythm anymore.
The signals.
Something was misaligned.
"Fine," Hiroki said.
His voice was different now.
Not arrogant.
Not taunting.
Flat.
He removed the ring from his finger.
Metal glinted under the lights.
He squeezed.
Hard.
The metal bent with a faint cracking sound.
Not clean.
Ugly.
He crushed it in his palm until the shape distorted beyond recognition.
Then he let it fall.
The sound of metal hitting the floor was dull.
Final.
Hiroki kept his head lowered.
Shoulders slightly tense.
Breathing deep.
Slow.
Ren watched carefully.
His own heightened senses were almost gone now.
But he could still feel the shift in atmosphere.
Pressure building.
Something coiling.
"Hey, Ren," Hiroki said quietly.
His voice was steady.
Too steady.
"From now on… the game changes."
He lifted his head.
And in that second—
Ren saw it.
Not metaphorically.
Not symbolically.
Something had altered in Hiroki's gaze.
The focus sharpened beyond normal intensity.
The air around him felt heavier.
Denser.
Like gravity had shifted slightly toward his side of the table.
It was the same distortion Ren had felt earlier.
The same threshold.
The same awakening.
But this time—
It wasn't fading.
Ren swallowed.
His throat suddenly dry.
"…I guess," he said slowly, "this is where it gets interesting."
And deep down—
For the first time since the match began—
He wasn't certain he was ahead anymore