Recap: As he stepped toward the table, a whisper reached him through the crowd.
Speakers: Sahir, Laleh, Kian, Jax, Observer, House.
The whisper wasn't a voice so much as a vector. It threaded through the noise, pinpointing his name with surgical precision. Sahir turned, searching the crowd. He saw only masks, neon, the slow drift of gamblers through the Commons.
He stepped toward the Dilation Ante table anyway. The whisper could be a trap. But it could also be the first real lead on Laleh in months. The House had starved him of information. A random whisper might be poison, but it was still a clue.
The dealer announced the game. Entry: ten hours. High variance. High volatility in drift calibration. The House Edge was steep. The pot was fat.
Sahir placed his ante. The bracelet bit. He was down to fifty-five hours. The noose tightened.
The rings activated. The inner ring pulsed with heavy gravity, the outer ring flickered with fast time. Players took positions. Sahir chose the middle ring again, but this time he nudged closer to the inner boundary. Risk exposure was the only way up.
The target offset was sixteen seconds. The pot would close in twenty objective seconds.
***
He calculated. Sixteen in the middle ring, plus one step into inner for compression. The House would bias the calibration by at least a second. He needed a buffer.
He watched the pulses. He watched the players. He saw one man dive into the inner ring too early and vanish from sight for a heartbeat. He saw another hover too long in the outer ring, too safe to win.
He stepped into the inner ring for a breath, then back. The gravity pressed against his chest like a hand. The world slowed to syrup. The pot timer flickered in slow motion.
He stepped back into the middle ring and waited. The pot closed. The rings collapsed.
Sahir's name flashed green. He'd won. The pot transferred: twenty hours net.
Relief washed over him. It was short-lived.
***
A man stepped forward from the edge of the ring, a hood shadowing his face. "Sahir," he said, voice low. "You're burning time. You don't have much left."
"I don't know you," Sahir said.
"You do. You just don't remember me."
Sahir's stomach went cold. "Who are you?"
The hooded man lifted his chin. The face was familiar in a way that hurt—like a memory he'd nearly lost. "My name is Kian. Laleh sent me."
The words didn't make sense. Laleh had been erased. Laleh couldn't send anyone. Unless she wasn't erased. Unless "Deferred" meant something else.
***
Sahir's breath caught. "Where is she?"
Kian's eyes flicked to the crowd. "Not here. Locked. The House sealed her in a shard. A timeline fragment. The only way in is through Silver arbitration."
"I know," Sahir said. "I need a sponsor."
"I can help," Kian said. "But you need to trust me."
Trust was a cost too. Sahir didn't have much left to spend. "Why now?"
"Because the House is accelerating your debt. They want you desperate. They want you to accept a stability contract."
***
Sahir thought of the Observer's offer. He'd refused. The House had responded with forced tables. If Kian was right, this was pressure, a push toward obedience.
"What do you want?" Sahir asked.
"Access," Kian said. "The chip. A look at it. I need to know if it's what I think it is."
Sahir's fingers closed around the chip in his coat. He could feel the smooth edge, the way it warmed to his skin. "No."
Kian didn't flinch. "Then you don't get my help."
A clean bluff. A clean line. He wasn't bluffing. He meant it.
***
Sahir had a choice. He could keep the chip hidden, and climb alone. He could show it, risk exposure, but gain an ally who might know how to reach Laleh.
He didn't have time to overthink. He made a strategic decision. He slid the chip across the table, not releasing it. "Look. Don't touch."
Kian leaned in, eyes narrowing. He studied it. "Temporal Gambler's Chip," he whispered. "Prototype."
"Prototype?"
"Not a relic. A test asset. The House built it to study individual rewinds. If you use it too much, you'll trigger a paradox audit."
Cost logged: Residue spike recorded.
Sahir pulled the chip back. "I know about audits."
***
Kian's gaze was sharp. "No, you don't. They don't just take memories. They can take identity. They can rewrite you."
Sahir felt the weight of that like a steel beam on his chest. "Then why risk this at all?"
"Because Laleh is locked," Kian said. "And if you forget her, she's gone for good."
The words echoed his own fear. He knew then Kian wasn't just a stranger. He was a mirror, another gambler with a tether he couldn't afford to sever.
"Fine," Sahir said. "You help me find a sponsor. You help me reach Silver arbitration. I'll show you what I can, when I can."
Kian nodded. "I'll take you to someone. But there's a price."
***
"There's always a price."
"Not in time," Kian said. "In risk."
He slid a data token across the table. It glowed red. "Paradox Duel. Tonight. Jax is running it. You beat him in public. You earn Copper respect. The sponsor will notice."
Sahir looked at the token. Entry: ten hours. Jax would be there, hungry for blood. It was a gamble. It was a trap. It was also a ladder.
He took the token. "If I die, you get nothing."
Kian's mouth twitched. "Then don't die."
***
Sahir tucked the token into his coat. His bracelet buzzed, lien now at forty-five hours. He'd won time, but the interest was still compounding. He could feel the House's attention like heat on his skin.
He walked toward the duel table, the chip heavy against his chest, Laleh's name burning at the edge of his mind.
Summary: Sahir survives a high‑risk turn, preserving momentum as the House adjusts the Edge.