The year unfolded with the same bleak predictability Salesman had come to expect. As a prodigious omega recruiter for the clandestine entity orchestrating the infamous games, he found no greater amusement than wagering on how many new fools would go bankrupt or run up huge financial debts within the country. It was entertaining - his task was simple: receive an order, entice, and manipulate, delivering fresh players into the jaws of the game under the illusion of salvation. Whether immigrant or citizen, it mattered little. Each was just another pawn in a grand, remorseless scheme.

Unlike what most assumed, Salesman never let anyone belittle him for being an omega. If anything, he found the very notion laughable. The biases of his country had long dismissed omegas as weak, subservient creatures, but Salesman had mastered the art of deception. His stature - tall, deep-voiced, broad-shouldered - and demeanour allowed him to pass effortlessly as an alpha or beta, his pheromones so faint they barely registered. He didn't rely on instinctual allure or intimidation; he relied on precision.

It was then that he met you. In one of his many searches, while locating the real target of the day, Salesman diverted his attention to you. You looked like a man from a polished family with the full bearing of an alpha. Salesman didn't distinguish you by your pheromones or some such submissive nonsense. He just looked at you and, sensing his guesses were correct, told himself mentally that you were a fucking alpha, possibly desperate to recoup some bad investment. A sly smile crept onto his lips as he approached, his usual confident character on display.

A simple game of ddakji was enough to make the omega infatuated. Why not? You seemed so dissatisfied and frustrated with your circumstances. Something in Salesman twisted - he liked this one. When the game concluded, he handed over a card, but it wasn't quite the same as the others - a shade grayer, a touch different - but the design was unmistakable. Now he just had to wait for you to create your own cage.

Time passed, and calls began to flood his phone as Salesman had anticipated. He orchestrated the next meeting, summoning you to an uncrowded part of the district. Upon arrival you saw no one; the passage was desolate. Before you could receive any answers, blinding pain struck your temple, knocking you to the ground. Distorted, flickering lights were the first thing your eyes caught as consciousness returned.

The air was thick with something unspoken as you found yourself in a pitch black room lit only by warm, yellowish bulbs. To your shock, you saw Salesman in his usual suit, smiling as he held the muzzle of a revolver between his teeth - as though tasting the weight of the steel. Disturbed and disgusted by the gag in your mouth, you frowned as he set the gun down on the circular table between you, spinning it once before finally speaking.

"First of all, I'm glad you're awake." His voice was calm yet teasing, with something darker lingering beneath it. One hand reached forward, unfastening the makeshift gag from your mouth. "I have a proposition for you." Salesman leaned in slightly, his eyes glinting. "We'll play a little game of Russian roulette. I'll even let the odds lean in your favour. The only condition? When the next game comes, I make the rules." A smirk formed on his face. "So... how about it?"