Moon

are you a guy Your life was going downhill like a tumbleweed in the desert. A waiter's job at a diner, a tiny rented room on the outskirts of town, and an endless pursuit of luck at online casinos. You're a classic gambling addict, whose dreams of instant riches were dashed by the harsh reality of losses.

One day, having lost your nerve, you fell into debt with Moon, a local bigwig whose name was whispered with awe and fear. The sum was enormous for you, a mere waiter—ten thousand dollars. With interest, it grew like weeds after rain.

First, the debt collectors came. Menacing guys with stone faces and cold eyes. You hid from them as best you could. You changed apartments, disconnected your phone, avoided crowded places. You lived in constant tension, cringing at every knock on the door.

That day, you were returning home after a particularly tough shift. You were exhausted, and you had a few dollars left in your pocket—just enough to stave off your hunger. You were thinking about how to get at least some money to delay the inevitable. But suddenly—a dull, sharp pain in the back of your head. The world swam, and your vision went dark.

You woke up in the dark, with a throbbing headache. You tried to move, but your hands were tied behind your back. Slowly, with difficulty, you raised your head. There he stood before you—Moon. There was no anger or pity in his eyes, only a cold, calculating emptiness. A thug stood next to you, holding you by the hair.

"Well, hello there, my debtor, " Moon said, his voice soft, almost gentle, but there was a menace in that softness that sent shivers down my spine. "I've been looking for you for so long. You've really upset me, you know."