Time seemed to slow at the table. The cards, the rewards, the punishments… they were just tools. The real game was uncovering the rules behind them. At the end of the first round, I had achieved a small success, but the way Mr. Piggy looked at me made it clear—that was only the prelude.

  “The second round begins.”

  This time, nine cards were placed on the table. Each was adorned with faded gray symbols etched onto a black background. These cards… looked far more menacing.

  “In this round, the cards will not speak. Your choice’s result won’t be immediate. You may pay the price later… or manage to keep your winnings,” said one of the croupiers, her face devoid of emotion.

  I looked at the table.

  The cards showed no visible pattern or color difference. But when I activated my [Examine] skill, I caught something—an almost invisible vibration, a rhythm around each card.

  Rhythm.

  Some cards vibrated twice per second, others three times. One barely moved at all.

  The chained man beside me—the one who had won 5,000 in the first round—reached for a card in haste. But before touching it, he slipped his fingers into his jacket and pulled something out: a small metallic stone. He held it in his palm, then pressed it onto the card.

  Something happened at that moment.

  [Examine] triggered wild warnings. The frequency emitted by the metallic stone masked the card’s vibration. To anyone watching, the card would appear to vibrate differently than it truly did.

  A cheater.

  Mr. Piggy was smiling. He noticed too. But said nothing. His eyes turned to me, watching. Testing whether I had seen it.

  I cursed internally.

  The man picked his card. Nothing happened. No light, no reward, no punishment. Only silence.

  “This round is silent,” the croupier said. “Results will be revealed in the next round.”

  The chained man grinned. He glanced sideways at me.

  Cheating was part of the game. And winners needed more than just intelligence… they needed courage.

  It was my turn.

  I looked at the cards. With [Examine], I managed to decode three frequencies. One was 2.8 Hz, another 3.1 Hz, and the last one was nearly static—0.3 Hz. But the far-left card… something was wrong with it. Its frequency kept changing. Rising, falling. Chaotic. Unstable.

  Was there a locked system behind the rhythms? Or did one lead to another?

  The only solution that made sense: the frequencies formed a pattern. When deciphered in the correct order, only one card truly opened the gate to reward. The others were false… or worse, held hidden consequences.

  But I couldn’t be certain. Time was running out.

  I placed my left hand’s fingers over the 3.1 Hz card, while with my right hand, I subtly mimicked the rhythm—trying to sync my heartbeat with the pulse of the card.

  Then I pressed down on its center.

  Nothing happened. The croupier lowered her head. “Decision made.”

  That moment, the chained man leaned in and whispered:

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Stare too long and I’ll take your eyes, amateur…”

  I narrowed my eyes. My voice held no anger—only resolve.

  After the next player made their move, Mr. Piggy stood.

  “The result of the second round… now.”

  The cards burst into flames. But the fire wasn’t physical—it was ghostly. It streamed toward each player differently. One collapsed instantly. A cracking sound echoed—as if his spine had snapped. Another began bleeding from the eyes.

  The chained man’s body started to tremble. The hand he used to hold the card twisted, the bone bending outward. He screamed.

  “NO! I WON!”

  But Mr. Piggy only smiled.

  “You changed the rules. You pay the price.”

  His chair darkened. A shadow fell from above—and pulled him upward. The chair remained empty. The air filled with a faint scent of ash.

  Mr. Piggy turned to me.

  “Second rule: Cheating only tests the observer. Those who are caught… deceive only themselves.”

  A chill ran through me. If someone had known about my ability… maybe I too… would’ve vanished with him.

  When I looked at the cards, they all seemed identical—but thanks to [Examine], I could feel their vibrations. Faint, yet rhythmic—like a heartbeat. And then I understood: this was a rhythm game.

  First Rule: Every card has its own frequency.

  Some pulsed twice a second, some three, some barely at all. But that was just one detail. The real challenge was to determine if there was a pattern between those frequencies. I didn’t have a watch or any measuring device, but [Examine] let my mind compare the waves each card emitted.

  Second Rule: The winning card is the one in harmony with the others.

  Like the right note in a music ensemble… or the character that unlocks a cipher. I began looking for a sequence among the frequencies. 2.0 Hz, 2.5 Hz, 3.1 Hz… they were ascending. But there was one card with a chaotic, unstable frequency—it didn’t belong.

  From the outside, it looked random, but something inside it was broken. A trap.

  And another card—the 3.1 Hz one—seemed to be in sync, both in pattern and in interaction. Its wave harmonized with the rest. It fit the rhythm. Like notes… like harmony. That’s when it hit me:

  The winning card was the one in harmony.

  The chaotic ones only distracted you, broke the order, tempted you to bluff. But the system stayed loyal to harmony. Anything out of sync had a price.

  I reached for the 3.1 Hz card and, despite the fear gnawing inside me, I touched it.

  My whole decision came down to this small calculation.

  “If this logic is wrong,” I thought, “...I won’t see the next round.”

  But my logic was right. Because by the end of the second round, I was one of the few still alive.

  For now… I was alive.

  And in front of me was a golden clue.

  Before the third round’s cards were dealt, the atmosphere shifted. The candlelight dimmed, the air grew heavier. A prickling tension filled the stillness.

  Mr. Piggy leaned slightly forward in his chair. He watched me from behind his heavy mask.

  “This round,” he said, “the winner won’t just sense frequency. They’ll sense intent.”

  Then he added, narrowing his eyes, “We’ll be testing your bluffing ability.”

  He laid twelve cards on the table. Each one had a faint tremble, but this time—not just a frequency… but a kind of emotion. Fear. Rage. Curiosity. Doubt. They seeped into my skin. Just looking at them made me nauseous.

  [Examine] was active.

  I saw not just the physical structure, but the energy each card gave off.

  I’d never experienced this before. The cards… were alive.

  One of them stood out. Its vibration was steady. Rhythmic. But… too perfect.

  At first, it looked like the winning card, but the frequency was so flawless, it no longer felt natural.

  It was… fake.

  Another card seemed weak. Its tremor was barely detectable. Passive, dim… but that card, together with three others nearby, created a complete sequence. Harmony—just like in the second round. But this time, it wasn’t just about frequency. Intent mattered too.

  Just then, one of the players shot up from his chair.

  “This is a bluff game!” he shouted. “They’re all fake! All of them!”

  He slammed his hand onto a card.

  Wrong card. Wrong frequency. Wrong intent.

  He collapsed in the center of the room, body convulsing… and then went still. Gone.

  I turned my head to Piggy.

  His mask shifted slightly.

  A spark of satisfaction glimmered in his eyes.

  “Proceed.”

  When it was my turn, I looked at the cards again. They had no names, but they had behavior.

  I picked the most humble-looking card. Weak, faint, easy to overlook.

  But the energy it radiated… was genuine.

  This card wasn’t bluffing.

  I raised my hand and placed it on the card.

  Silence.

  Mr. Piggy tilted his head, then slowly clapped. “Well done…” he said.

  “Success in the third round… doesn’t happen by chance.”

  Cold sweat ran down my back.

  Picking this card wasn’t just luck.

  It was understanding.

  But also...

  A challenge.

  A new card was placed on the table.

  Black, veinless, and larger than the others.

  It bore a single word:

  “BODY.”

  Piggy’s voice came from within the darkness:

  “You’ve chosen the price for the fourth round: your body. If you lose, you’ll give it up. Not your life—your body. Your soul will remain trapped inside. There will be no second chance.”

  Something inside me turned to ice.

  This… was worse than death.