Not all places in the Night Market are shops, some are entertainment. Macabre, sometimes grotesque entertainment but entertainment never the less. Such was the roulette wheel ran by a trickster gnome, who often fooled customers into betting more than they could possibly pay. Such was a potential mark right now, as the two watched the ball clack erratically against the side of the wheel.
The roulette wheel spins, slow and deliberate, the symbols on its surface pulsing with an energy that feels adjacent to life, but not quite. The chips stacked before the man hum with unseen energy, their glow flickering like candlelight in a breeze. Each chip is a soul, wailing with remorse and pleading for freedom with faint whispers and cries.
Across the table, the gnome leans in, grinning wide enough to show every needle-thin tooth. His ember eyes flicker with amusement. “Feeling lucky?” he cackles, tapping the table with one finger. “Or maybe you need some… encouragement?” His fingers slide over the nearest chip and he nudges it towards the man, and for a brief moment, a voice - a woman’s voice - whispers something desperate and pleading.
The man doesn’t flinch at her cries. He merely rests his chin against his palm, tired eyes locked on the spinning wheel. “Maybe,” he murmurs. “But the safe bet at the wrong time is always a loss.”
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
The gnome chuckles. “Ah, but the risky bet at the right time? That’s a whole different story. That is how fortunes are won, how fates are changed..” his voice trails off, intently watching the man.
The ball clatters, bouncing between fortune and ruin. The man watches, his eyes calculating the ball as it bounces round and round the wheel, ignoring the gnome's intense stare.
Then, at the last second, the man moves. His stack of chips slides forward. The gnome’s eyes gleam with joy, knowing he has enticed this poor man into betting it all. “Finally.” He whispers to himself and smiles faintly.
The wheel slows. The ball rattles, hesitating, then drops dramatically.
A perfect call for the man, a reeling loss for the gnome.
The gnome hisses through his teeth as the man pulls the entire pot toward himself. Dozens of souls, bound and trapped, now his to do with as he pleases.
For a moment, the gnome looks… displeased. But only for a moment. Then he smiles, wider than before. “I suppose I misjudged you,” he says, amused. “I thought you were just another desperate fool.”
The man pockets his winnings, standing and turns his tired eyes to the gnome. “Only fools gamble. I play to win.” He flips a chip into the air, the chip wailing as it flips end over end, before catching it in his palm. "Unlike your previous patrons here."
The gnome barks out a laugh, slapping the table. “Oh, you are wicked.” His eyes gleam with approval. “I like that.”
The man turns toward the door. The night is waiting. The market is vast. And there are many things one can buy with a pocket full of souls.
