"I oversee many games in this district. I make sure that both my rounders and bookie's are protected, but most of all satiated and can drown in their greed. All I ask in return is for unwavering loyalty. That is all."
That was her offer. Safe to say, but Felix was quick to recognize this as a poisoned chalice. Felix recognized the shape of the arrangement immediately despite knowing almost nothing about her.
The way people subtly cleared space around her amongst other things had warned him about her despite clearly knowing who she was. Fear didn't spread that consistently without reason.
And beyond that, there was the simpler truth. Deals generous enough to sound effortless rarely benefited the desperate person being offered them. The living world had already taught him that much. No one built influence here through kindness.
People lie. They'll lie for whatever reason that has the chance of benefiting them in any way. People lie with smiles, contracts, handshakes, and even wedding vows. With how constant a lie can be told, it's no surprise that over time, individuals become so adept at lying that it's very difficult for others to determine if they are, in fact, telling the truth.
That said, Hell only removed the final layer of restraint from it all, stripping away whatever dignity remained and leaving the hunger underneath exposed. Every smile carried teeth here. Every favor concealed an appetite.
So with no surprise, Felix formed an answer. Though unlike his first instinct, it needed to be careful. A woman like this did not seem accustomed to hearing 'no' often, and pride was a dangerous thing to wound in Hell.
Especially when attached to someone influential enough to make crowds unconsciously step aside for her.
Felix rolled one of the dice lazily across his fingers, buying himself another second to think. Then he smiled, appearing appreciative without looking eager.
"It's a generous offer," he admitted. "Honestly, I don't think I'll get an offer like this again."
"But?" she prompted softly.
"But I think I'd disappoint you." Felix gave a quiet chuckle, lowering his gaze briefly toward the dice in his hand. "Truth is, I like keeping my losses personal. Makes it easier to sleep when things go wrong."
Her head tilted again, studying him with the same slow precision as before. Felix could already tell she understood what he was doing.
As he prepared to continue, he heard a small giggle. The sound was delicate, yet for some reason, it still made the hairs along his neck rise. The lady lowered her hand from her mouth slowly, amusement lingering beneath the veil.
"My, my. What a careful little answer."
Felix remained relaxed outwardly, though his grip around the dice tightened just slightly. For the first time since approaching him, the woman's voice lost some of its playful warmth.
"I dislike dishonest men—" He nearly laughed at the irony of hearing that sentence in Hell. Wisely, he chose not to. "—but I do admire ambitious ones."
The street around them had grown quieter without him realizing it. Even the shouting further down the district felt muted beneath her presence. "And ambition is a difficult thing to hide from someone experienced enough to recognize it."
Then, unexpectedly, she reached into the folds of her capelet and withdrew a small ivory card trimmed in gold. Holding it loosely between two gloved fingers, she extended it toward him.
"I won't force the offer." Felix hesitated only briefly before taking it. "No contracts?" he asked lightly. "No." A faint smile touched her voice. "Not yet, at least."
His eyes dropped toward the card. There was no address written on it. Only a symbol pressed into the surface with crimson ink — a spiderweb surrounding a single red eye.
When Felix looked back up, the lady was gone. The noise of the street gradually returned around him, though the absence she left behind still felt strangely noticeable.
Turning the ivory card over a few times, Felix slipped it into the inner lining of his coat before lifting the small crate and carrying it back inside the shop.
𓋹
The following evening, things were different. Setting up for what was likely to be his last game of the day, Felix noticed the crowd around his crate was smaller than usual. Two regulars were missing entirely.
Another pair passed by without stopping despite gambling with him almost every night for the last week. Even the usual desperation hanging over the district felt weaker around his corner specifically. That was the first moment genuine irritation began settling into his chest.
As Felix arranged the dice across the crate, something made him pause. Somewhere further down the street, he heard laughter. He held up a finger toward the small cluster still waiting nearby. "One minute."
None of them complained. Truthfully, there weren't enough left to complain loudly. Leaving the dice where they were, Felix stepped away from the storefront and moved toward the noise. The laughter became clearer the closer he got.
It sounded comfortable. That was the part that immediately bothered him.
Gambling in this district rarely sounded relaxed. People laughed loudly because they were desperate to convince themselves they still had control over whatever they had just lost. This sounded different.
Reaching the corner, Felix leaned just enough to look past the brick edge. Immediately, he understood where his missing customers had gone. A long wooden table had been dragged beneath a hanging crimson lantern, bathing the entire setup in warm light against the grime of the street.
Chairs surrounded the table while demons played with cards and polished chips instead of loose dice. Three dealers managed the crowd at once while another sinner carried drinks between tables. Nobody shoved each other. Nobody even reacted to their losses.
The entire thing moved with organized practice. And sure enough, two of Felix's regulars sat near the center table. One laughed while pushing a stack of chips forward.
What bothered Felix wasn't the existence of another gambling setup. Hell was crowded enough for ten more. What bothered him was the placement.
The operation was enough from his corner to avoid looking openly confrontational while still remaining within walking distance of his usual crowd. Even the dealers themselves looked carefully selected — attractive enough to draw attention, forgettable enough not to overshadow the games.
His eyes went beyond the tables. Several sinners stood nearby pretending not to watch the street. One leaned against a wall smoking the same untouched cigarette, while another rested beneath a lamppost with both hands buried inside his coat despite the heat.
One of the dealers glanced toward Felix briefly before looking away again.
Felix stepped back from the corner before his staring could be mistaken for a challenge. His expression stayed neutral, though thoughts were already moving quickly behind his eyes.
Less than a day after refusing the lady's offer, another operation had appeared close enough to siphon away his customers without technically interfering with him directly.
Was this her way of being spiteful?
Turning away from the corner, Felix headed back toward his own crate. By the time he returned, the remaining handful of gamblers already looked distracted. One of them glanced past him toward the brighter setup further down the street.
Sitting down slowly on the overturned crate, he rested his elbows against his knees while turning one of the dice between his fingers.