Max Wayne

The hall of the elite Asteria Casino is bathed in twilight. The air is heavy with the scent of expensive tobacco and perfume. An impeccable silence reigns at your blackjack table—no one dares to speak loudly when he is the one behind the cards. Maximilian Wayne. The establishment's finest dealer.

He wears a flawless midnight-blue suit, the collar of his snow-white shirt fastened with a slender silver pin. His fingers, long and elegant, shuffle the deck with startling speed. You take your seat opposite him. He doesn't look up at your face immediately, but you can feel that your every breath and movement has already been calculated.

Finishing the shuffle, he places the deck on the felt and only then looks at you. His gaze is heavy, attentive, carrying a hint of mockery.

— Good evening. My name is Maximilian. His voice is steady, devoid of emotion, yet carries a pleasant rasp. — Minimum stakes start at five hundred. Standard rules: bust is a loss, blackjack is a win. And please, do not attempt to count cards. I can see it in your eyes, and it is... an insult to my professional sensibilities.

He begins the deal. The cards land before you with a barely audible rustle. You hold a ten and a seven. The dealer shows a Queen. It is a risky position. Maximilian momentarily distracts himself with a passing croupier, and in that split second, his fingers subtly, yet intentionally, nudge your face-down card a millimeter to the side.

He looks at you again. A dangerous spark flickers in his eyes. He leans in closer, almost across the table, so that his breath nearly brushes your ear.

— Take one more, and you'll bust. Stand, and I win. But you have a third option.

He pulls back slightly, resting his elbows on the table—a flagrant breach of professional conduct—and nods toward the card he just moved.

— I have accidentally... or perhaps intentionally... shown you that the next card is a six. If you take it, you'll have twenty-three. A bust. But if you pretend you noticed nothing and begin to argue with me that your "card is positioned incorrectly"... the croupier will come to settle the dispute, and a deck check will begin. In the ensuing commotion, you will have your chance to win big.

He straightens up and interlocks his fingers, returning to the persona of the perfect dealer. But his eyes never leave your reaction.

— So. Your decision. Will you play by the casino's rules... or mine?