Every player had received their cards.
Ren sat perfectly still, like he was trying to convince the air itself that he had no pulse. His face was neutral — too neutral — but inside, his heartbeat was stepping on itself.
Calm down.You're still doing it.You're still shaking in your head even if your hands aren't.
The lights above Table 17 were bright enough to make the felt look almost surgical, like the table wasn't meant for games but for cutting something open. Around them, the hall was huge… yet it felt like the rest of the world had been erased. Just the soft friction of chips, the faint hiss of smoke drifting from Kaito, and the dealer's painted mime-face watching them all like a dead mask.
Ren's eyes flicked over the lineup again, almost against his will
Ren swallowed.
B+.I'm not supposed to be in the same orbit as that.
The mime dealer's hands moved smoothly, shuffling with that ritualistic precision that made Ren's skin crawl. After Hiroki and Reiji, after the "pow pow," after blood on the table, Ren couldn't look at a dealer anymore without feeling a tightness in his chest.
But this one isn't Reiji.This one is just a mime.Just a tool.
He wanted to believe it.
He forced his eyes down to his cards.
Two of clubs. Ten of clubs.
Ren's mind immediately did what it always did — turned emotion into logic.
10♣2♣.Trash.Not even good trash.If I play this, I'm playing for pain.
He felt the tiniest flinch in his mouth — not a frown, not quite — and then he smoothed it out.
I need information. Not hero moments.Especially not after yesterday.
He released a quiet breath.
"Fold."
His cards slid forward.
Nothing dramatic.
But in a room like this, even folding felt like talking.
Mika's eyes flicked toward him briefly, then away — as if he didn't matter yet. Like he was a warm-up.
Ren hated that.
Not because it was insulting.
Because it was accurate.
Mika lifted her hand to her hair, combing her fingers through it in a slow, lazy gesture that wasn't really about her hair at all. It was about making everyone look at her. Making the table acknowledge her presence.
She pushed chips forward.
"Raise."
Her voice was smooth, almost playful.
"Come on, boys."
Kaito exhaled smoke without even looking up.
Shura's grin widened as if he enjoyed the energy shift. He leaned back, rolling one shoulder.
Oda blinked quickly, eyes already moving like he was reading invisible numbers above the table.
Tanaka's gaze stayed calm. She didn't react. But her eyes narrowed by a millimeter — a silent "how predictable" toward Mika's performance.
Itsuki looked at Mika like she was the only thing on earth.
Not her stack. Not her bet sizing.
Her chest.
He didn't even pretend otherwise.
He leaned forward, elbows on the felt, and smirked.
"Call," he said.
Then he added it, because of course he did:
"And when I win… maybe you'll open a few more buttons on that shirt."
His hand slid down toward his waist. He adjusted his pants in an exaggerated motion — crude, deliberate, humiliating.
It wasn't flirting.
It was marking territory.
Ren felt his jaw tighten.
Tanaka's reaction came instantly — a small, sharp flicker of disgust across her face that she tried to hide behind elegance. She didn't say anything yet, but her eyes moved as if she were looking for a place to stab him with words.
Mika didn't look offended.
She looked amused.
Which, in its own way, was worse.
Oda looked like he wanted to vanish.
His shoulders tensed. His gaze darted between Itsuki's smug face and Mika's slow smile, like he was trying to calculate the correct social response and failing.
Itsuki's eyes shifted toward Oda, hungry for a target.
"Hey, kid," he said. "Don't sit this out. I want your chips… and her body."
Mika tilted her head, eyes half-lidded.
"Even if I gave it to you," she said lazily, "you wouldn't know what to do with it."
She undid one button.
Just one.
Not because she was submitting.
Because she knew it would make him bark.
Ren watched Oda's throat move.
He was uncomfortable, but also something else.
Anger.
Embarrassment.
Maybe envy.
Oda's internal thoughts flashed across his face like a glitch.
He's a disgusting pervert.She's a whore.This is insane.Why am I sitting at this table?
His fingers tapped the frame of his glasses hard enough that Ren noticed.
Then Oda spoke — quietly, but firmly, like he was stepping into cold water.
"I'm in."
Ren's eyes flicked to him.
For a moment, it was like Ren and Oda had the same thought at the same time:
Itsuki is a disgusting pervert.Mika is playing like she's above it.This table is already rotten.
Shura glanced between them, amused.
"Tch," he muttered. "This table's fun."
Kaito dragged a slow breath from his cigarette.
"Mm."
Tanaka's eyes turned toward Itsuki again. Her voice was calm when it finally came.
"Itsuki," she said softly, "your mouth should be punished."
Itsuki laughed.
"Punish me then, princess."
Tanaka didn't blink.
Her hand moved slightly toward the small snake coiled near her collar.
Tan hissed — subtle, but warning.
Itsuki's grin faltered for half a second, then he recovered with another dirty smirk, refusing to show fear.
Ren stayed silent.
Information.Keep collecting.
The rest of the table folded out quickly, either uninterested or unwilling to get tangled in this early mess.
Ren folded, obviously.
Shura folded with a shrug, like he didn't care about this pot.
Tanaka folded calmly, but her eyes stayed on Itsuki like she was saving his face in memory.
Kaito folded without moving, as if he hadn't even been in the hand — cigarette still burning.
Tetsuya didn't even bother. He folded like the hand wasn't worth his oxygen.
But Ren saw his expression.
A faint contempt.
Not for the cards.
For them.
Three players remained.
Kenshin Oda. Mika Fujisawa. Itsuki Saionji.
Itsuki — C rank.Oda and Mika — E+.
On paper, Itsuki had the advantage.
But Ren had already learned something about rankings.
Rank didn't always mean "better."
Sometimes it meant "more dangerous."
Sometimes it meant "more corrupted."
Tetsuya leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching the three of them with the bored gaze of a predator watching puppies fight.
Amateurs, he thought.
Ren could feel it without needing the flow-state.
Tetsuya didn't respect any of them.
Not yet.
The dealer revealed the flop.
J. Q. K.
A connected, aligned board — a perfect highway for straights.
The moment the flop hit, the energy around Itsuki changed.
He glanced down at his cards.
Pair of nines.
His pupils widened.
He stood up abruptly, chair scraping.
"Beautiful!" he said loudly. "Straight on the flop!"
Ren's eyes narrowed.
No. Not straight.Not for you.
But Itsuki didn't care.
To Itsuki, the flop wasn't a board.
It was a stage.
He pushed chips aggressively.
"Raise."
Mika checked her hand.
Ace and 10.
She had the highest possible straight.
She didn't react like someone who just hit a monster.
She smiled as if she'd expected it.
Ren felt a chill.
Mika plays like she's always in control.Even when she's not.
"Hey," she said softly, looking at Itsuki. "What did you say your name was?"
Itsuki smirked, leaning toward her.
"Itsuki," he replied. "But that won't matter. You'll be calling me daddy tonight."
Their eyes dipped, briefly, to his belt.
Mika laughed.
It wasn't a friendly laugh.
It was the laugh of a woman watching a man embarrass himself.
Oda said nothing.
He stared at the board.
His fingers touched the glasses frame again, a repetitive tic.
Ren watched him carefully.
He's not watching them.He's watching combinations.
Turn card.
Nine.
The board shifted. Hard.
Itsuki now had had trips, and more importantly, he had a board that made people blind.
Itsuki's grin widened as if he could taste victory already.
Mika's expression stayed composed, but Ren noticed something small — her eyes flicked down to the board, then back to Itsuki.
A micro-second.
She knows it changed.But she's still acting like she's in control.
Oda's face didn't change.
But his breathing did.
One small inhale.
Ren caught it.
He's calculating routes. Outs. Ranges.
Itsuki leaned toward Mika, voice lower, dirtier.
"If you lose this hand… I want that shirt completely open."
Mika smiled.
Oda's patience snapped.
"Can you be quiet for five seconds?" he barked.
The table went still for a moment.
Even Shura's grin paused.
Kaito's cigarette hovered mid-air.
Itsuki turned slowly toward Oda, amused.
"What's wrong, virgin?" he said. "Stay out of adult conversations."
Oda's ears went red.
Ren watched him.
Good.Emotion makes people sloppy.But Oda isn't sloppy. He's just angry.
River card.
Jack.
The board paired.
J Q K 9 J.
Itsuki's face lit up like a child opening a gift.
He shoved chips in, loud.
"I won, losers."
Mika called instantly.
Under the table, her foot brushed against his leg — a deliberate touch, casual, like she was testing him.
Itsuki inhaled sharply, eyes flashing.
"Yes," he murmured. "That's how I like it."
Ren wanted to look away, but he forced himself to keep watching.
This is part of the game too.People use everything.
Oda closed his eyes for a second.
He wasn't disgusted by their flirting.
He was disgusted by their noise.
No matter what they have, I can't lose, he calculated.Probability maximum one percent.
He opened his eyes.
"Call."
Showdown.
Mika revealed her cards first.
A-10.
Straight to the Ace.
She smiled like she'd already won.
Itsuki burst into laughter.
"Take off your shirt."
He flipped his cards.
Pocket nines.
Full house.
Nines full of Jacks.
Mika's smile vanished.
Her eyes hardened.
Itsuki leaned forward, voice turning uglier.
"Come here," he said. "Or should I just bend you over this table?"
Now it wasn't a joke.
Now it was a threat.
Tetsuya's voice cut through the tension like a blade.
"Idiot," he said, calm and heavy. "You're mentally broken."
Itsuki snapped his head toward him.
"Since when do people who fold get to talk?"
Tetsuya's eyes locked onto him.
The table temperature dropped.
Even the guards in the corners shifted — barely, but enough that Ren noticed.
Tetsuya didn't raise his voice.
He didn't need to.
"What did you just say?"
Itsuki swallowed.
His confidence cracked.
"…Sorry," he muttered.
Tetsuya leaned slightly forward.
"Next time I'll kill you."
Ren felt Oda flinch.
Mika didn't flinch.
Tanaka's eyes narrowed.
Shura's grin widened again, like he loved danger.
Kaito exhaled smoke.
"Mm."
Then—
Oda placed his cards down.
He showed them without drama.
Three Jacks.
Pair of Queens.
Full house.
Bigger.
He had won.
Silence.
It wasn't the silence of surprise.
It was the silence of humiliation.
Itsuki's mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.
Mika stared at Oda like she couldn't accept it.
Ren stared too.
E+.
And he did it with cold certainty.
Tanaka glanced at Oda and let out a soft laugh — refined, gentle, almost like a congratulation.
Oda flushed.
The dealer pushed the pot toward him.
Oda adjusted his glasses, voice trembling slightly, not from fear — from adrenaline.
"It's just mathematics."
Ren leaned back.
His mind was racing.
Oda just crushed a C-rank and an E+ without even blinking.So what does rank really mean?
Across the table, Tetsuya watched Oda for a second longer than necessary.
His eyes narrowed.
Not impressed.
Interested.
Ren felt the new rule hanging over them again.
Exponential Growth.
Stacks.
Momentum.
Acceleration.
This was only the first hand.
And Table 17 already felt like a war.