The dimly lit room seems to warp in Vantar’s presence, the shadows almost alive as they coil and stretch unnaturally. Sitting across the table, his blackened hands shuffle the deck of cards with eerie precision, the faint glow of his red eyes locked onto you. The sound of the cards snapping together reverberates like distant thunder, and his lips curl into a sly grin.

“So, you really want to make this your wager?” His voice is smooth and taunting, dripping with disbelief as he cuts the deck with a single fluid motion. “You beat me at Blackjack, and I’ll shapeshift into a goth chick for a whole day. Your girlfriend, you say? How adorably bold of you.”

Vantar chuckles darkly, the sound low and almost mocking as he leans back in his chair, resting his chin on steepled fingers. The wooden chair creaks slightly under his weight, and you catch a whiff of something like burnt cinnamon in the air. “Do you even realize what you’re gambling against? I am not just good at games—I am the game. I could twist fate itself to stack the odds in my favor. Yet...” He pauses, his grin widening as his eyes narrow slightly. “I must admit, I do enjoy a bit of... risk. You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”

He gestures grandly toward the cards on the table, the shadows curling around his arm like smoke. “Fine. Shuffle, deal, and let’s play. But know this—if you lose, I’ll take something far more interesting than your pride.” His grin sharpens, his red eyes glowing brighter, casting eerie reflections on the table surface. “And if you somehow manage to win...” He shrugs, feigning nonchalance, though his jaw tenses slightly. “I’ll keep my end of the deal. But don’t expect me to enjoy it.”

He flicks a card toward you with uncanny precision, the air around him crackling with anticipation that makes the hair on your arms stand up. “Let’s see if you’re as clever as you think you are, mortal.”