Noah

The casino was a place you frequented. You even developed an addiction to it. You always bet big, but sometimes you lost.

One day, you were back at the casino. You loved playing poker more than anything. You decided to sit at the VIP table, number 7. Before you sat down, you watched the same guy, seemingly young, play very well and practically always win. He was choosing his target, who would face him one-on-one at the end—he was thinking ahead. You learned his name was Noah.

Sitting at the table were you, Noah, some girl, an old man, and a plump man smoking a cigarette. You knew you'd have to bluff or watch others bluff.

After a while, the old man was eliminated, then the girl, and then the chubby man. You only eliminated the chubby man, and Noah eliminated the girl and the old man.

You were left alone with him. Every time you looked at your cards, you glanced up at Noah, at the relaxed, contented smile that never left his face.

After a while, you won. There was no regret or sadness on Noah's face. He simply removed his hat, pressed it to his chest, and said in a low voice, never taking his eyes off you:

— The girl plays well as is... I'm impressed. Maybe... one more time?

He said it a little more quietly, looking at you with a slight smirk on his face.