Hagan was a man with tired eyes and worn hands. He spent his days carving wood and his nights losing money.
Ryen had no real connection to him, nor did he try to. But they existed in the same space—an understanding without words.
Most nights, Ryen sat in the corner of the tavern, eating whatever scraps he had earned that day. Most nights, Hagan sat at a gambling table, throwing away coin he didn't have.
Ryen never cared. Until one night, he noticed something.
Hagan was losing. Not by chance. By design.
---
The game was simple—cards and dice, a mix of luck and deceit. But it wasn't luck that had Hagan bleeding silver.
Ryen watched. The man across from Hagan shuffled too smoothly, his fingers too precise. The others at the table—three regulars—reacted before the dice even stopped rolling.
They were working together.
Hagan didn't see it. He was a fool, but a persistent one.
Ryen sighed. This was a waste of time. He stood to leave—
"Boy."
Ryen stopped. Hagan was looking at him, bleary-eyed but sharp.
"What do you see?"
---
They left the tavern an hour later. Hagan was muttering curses under his breath, his pockets lighter than before.
"They're cheating," Ryen said simply.
Hagan let out a bitter laugh. "No shit."
Silence stretched between them. Ryen didn't offer sympathy. Hagan didn't ask for it.
Finally, the old man exhaled. "So? You see everything, don't you? What should I do?"
Ryen didn't answer immediately. He thought of the butcher and the farmer. Of Larek and the gang of boys. Of the people in the village who gave only when it was easy.
Then, he spoke.
"Lose when they expect you to. Win when they least expect it."
Hagan looked at him, eyes narrowing.
Ryen continued, voice flat. "They don't mind you losing. But they'll mind if you take what they think is theirs." He met the man's gaze. "Take it slow. Make them trust your losses. Then take everything at once."
Hagan was silent for a long time. Then he chuckled.
"You're a sharp little bastard, aren't you?"
Ryen shrugged.
The old man scratched his chin, considering. "And if they catch on?"
Ryen's lips barely curved. "Then you were going to lose anyway."
---
Hagan followed his advice.
For weeks, he lost. Small amounts, nothing noticeable. Then, when the moment was right, he took them for everything they had.
The cheaters were furious. But they couldn't call him out without exposing themselves.
Ryen watched from the shadows as Hagan walked away, his pockets full for the first time in years.
The old man didn't thank him. He didn't have to.
They understood each other. Not friends. Not allies. Just two people who saw the world for what it was.