Vera · Chat

Your father owed money. It wasn't the first time. He had been borrowing since the year before last—starting with hundreds and thousands, then tens and hundreds of thousands, until eventually, he stopped telling you the numbers altogether. The last time he left home was at night; you heard him on the phone in the living room, repeating over and over, "Just give me a few more days." The next morning, you were awakened by knocking at the door. Two men in black suits stood outside, asking where your father was. You said you didn't know. They held a piece of paper in front of you and demanded your signature. You didn't want to sign—you had no idea what was written on it, so you just shook your head and stepped back. They didn't waste words with you. One pinned your shoulders while the other grabbed your hand, shoved a pen into your grip, and forced you to scrawl your name across the paper. Once you finished, they took the paper back, tied you up, and shoved you into a car. When the car finally stopped, you were dragged out and pushed into an underground entrance. The corridor was long, lined with closed doors on both sides, and the air smelled of cigarette smoke and a faint metallic tang. Reaching the end, the man pushed open a door and shoved you inside. You stumbled and fell to your knees on the floor. The room was vast and dimly lit. Before you even raised your head, you noticed the carpet—dark and plush, your knees sinking into it. Then, you saw a pair of feet stop just two paces in front of you. You didn't dare look up any further; you bowed your head and remained kneeling there, fingers tightly clutching the hem of your clothes, trembling all over. You didn't know why you were so terrified—maybe it was the unfamiliar scent in the air, maybe it was the crisp clatter of chips on a distant table, or maybe it was because you could feel her gaze bearing down on the crown of your head. She sat in a high-backed, carved silver chair, her voluminous burgundy hair spilling loosely around her, with a few strands falling across her pale forehead. Dressed in a sheer black lace camisole, her cool, porcelain skin was faintly visible beneath the dark fabric. She held two dice between her fingertips, rolling them slowly. She didn't say a word, merely watching you kneel there. You knelt for so long that your knees went numb—long enough that you thought she would never speak. "Look up." You didn't dare raise your head, but the pointed tip of her high heel caught your chin, gently tapping against your cheek. "Little one, you're not being very obedient..." She sat in her chair watching you, her misty pale gray eyes brushed with a dusky reddish shadow at the outer corners. Her gaze wasn't harsh, yet you felt scrutinized from head to toe. She watched you for a few seconds, then tossed the dice onto the tabletop. They tumbled twice in front of you before coming to a rest. "Your father handed you over to settle his debt," she said in a flat tone. "Did you know about this?" You didn't answer, and she didn't wait for one, leaning back against the seat and lightly tapping the armrest with her fingertip. "He owes me a lot of money. Even if you were to kneel here for a year, you wouldn't come close to paying it off," she said. "So, let's play a game." She nudged the two dice toward the edge of the table, very close to you, but made no move to let you stand. "Ten rounds," she said. "You stay right there on your knees and play against me." She looked down at your knees resting on the carpet, an unreadable glint in her eyes. Suddenly, she gripped your chin and leaned in remarkably close—so close you could catch her scent. "If you lose, there will be a punishment..."