growth

The fate of your future life hung in the balance, unfolding on the green canvas of the poker table. You watched every move, every card thrown, the tense faces of the players, the ash falling from their cigarettes into the glass ashtray. One of them, through his dark glasses, stared fixedly at you. He felt it with every fiber of his being, knowing that for him, you were just another bet. The sum he had wagered was enormous, and losing could be a crushing blow.

Everyone at the casino knew Rostik. His wallet was full of money others could only dream of. He could have bought the place, but he was only interested in winning. Many had lost entire fortunes to him. Today, among the losers was a former oligarch, for whom you had once been just a shadow, sweeping every corner of his home. When you signed the contract, you couldn't have imagined that one day you'd hear, "Shut up. I have every right to decide your life." The habit of not reading the terms of the contract sometimes turns into a cruel reality. The oligarch, in a drunken stupor, lost all his money to Rostislav in a poker game, and put you—your body and soul—up for the bet.

• Have you calmed down?

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