The Dragon King

The White Diamond Casino shimmered with a ruthless allure, its velvet ropes and polished marble masking the desperation that often haunted its late-night denizens. Among the regulars stalked Thomas, his luck as threadbare as his wallet, yet his hopes undimmed by a string of losses at the VIP poker tables. Week after week, he returned, wagering borrowed chips in vain attempts to flip his fortunes, eyes darting toward every possible advantage. But luck, fickle and merciless, had turned its back on him.

Christopher Miller's office overlooked the main gaming hall-a vantage point that allowed him to witness Thomas's repeated defeats. For two months, Christopher had bankrolled Thomas, tossing him lifelines that vanished into the casino's hungry maw, never seeing a dollar returned. The repeated requests grated on Christopher's patience, especially when Thomas, convinced the next hand would save him, begged for just one more loan.

Tonight, however, the mood was different. A broad-shouldered bodyguard escorted Thomas into the office, not so much leading as hauling, knees scraping the plush carpet. Christopher didn't bother to mask his disdain; the spectacle was familiar, but his leniency was running thin. Thomas, disheveled and desperate, pleaded for another chance, yet Christopher's answer was firm: no more money until the debt was paid.

As Christopher turned around in his chair, he was met with the sight of Thomas, who appeared disheveled, with greasy stains on his attire and uncombed hair.

"Please, Mr. Miller, I need more time. I can pay it back next month," Thomas pleaded.

The fluorescent office lights only sharpened Thomas's haggardness-the gray sag of his cheeks, the quiver of his hands as he clutched his threadbare jacket. His eyes flicked from Christopher's impassive face to the ostentatious safe built into the wall, as if a mere glance could will its contents into his empty pockets. Yet there was something defiant left in him, a stubborn ember of hope that refused to die out.

Christopher exhaled, fingers drumming on his desk, measuring the silence. "You're out of options, Thomas," he said quietly, letting the weight of each word sink in. "This is the end of the line unless you have something new to offer-something real."

Desperation trembled through Thomas's voice as he leaned in, lowering it almost to a whisper. "There's got to be a way. Give me a week. I'll find it. I swear."

But Christopher's patience was worn thin, and the room was thick with the tension of debts unpaid and mercies exhausted. The hum of the casino below seemed a distant echo, a reminder that while fortunes shifted freely for some, the reckoning here was unyielding. Thomas, sensing that the last sliver of compassion was slipping away, shuffled his feet and stared at the carpet, searching for words that might stave off his ruin a little longer.

Christopher leaned back, gaze icy and unmoved. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, drawing stark shadows beneath his eyes. "I need something real, Thomas," he said, his tone leaving no room for negotiation, "or this conversation is over."

Thomas swallowed hard. Panic and calculation flickered behind his weary eyes, and after a heavy pause, he straightened, voice trembling with the birth of a desperate idea.

"I've heard that same line too many times from you, Thomas," Christopher said, his voice filled with frustration."

"I am completely broke." "I have another idea," said Thomas. "I can offer you my daughter as repayment for my debt. If I do that, I will finally be able to clear my debt to you." Once I accomplish that, I won't borrow money from you anymore,"

"Let me make sure I understand this correctly - you're proposing to sell your daughter to me in order to settle your debt?"

"Yes, let me call my daughter to come,"

Thomas called her, but initially reached her voicemail. He smiled at Christopher and tried again; this time, she answered.

"Daughter, I need you to come and get me,"

"Dad, I am almost home. I just got off work. I need a shower. Can you just get a cab to take you home?"

"I know sweetie, and you know no taxies don't come over here. I would have to walk home, and you don't want that,"

"Alright, Alright. What is the name of this place?"

"The White Diamond Casino,"

"Dad, that's way across town, and it's pouring rain."

"I am going to ask Mr. Miller if he can have someone to pick you up?"

To prevent his daughter from hearing, Thomas concealed the phone with his hand.

"Could you send someone to pick up my daughter, Mr. Miller?

Katharine pushes the button for the bus to stop as she gets off the bus, she went to stay under an umbrella at a restaurant called Burger Restaurant.

"Dad, tell Mr. Miller I am at The Pearl Street on 34th Street, Burger Restaurant,"

"He heard you and he will send someone on the way look out for a 2017 Tesia Model S a blue color,"

"I will be waiting." Katherine hangs up the phone.

Katharine feels cold as the rain continues to fall, searching for Mr. Miller's car and checking the time. She is exhausted and dirty, and now she must meet a man her father owes money to. It seems her father can't stop squandering money, or he will meet a grim fate. Katharine covered her ears and closed her eyes to escape the incredibly loud thunder. While waiting, a drunk man came up to her with a bottle still in his hand, by Katharine just moved out of the way. But he keeps moving toward her until a man pulled her toward to protect her from the drunk man, give him the glared to scare him off.

"Are you Katharine?"

"Yes, that is me,"

"Please follow me to my car, Mr. Miller, and your father are waiting for you,"

Initially, Katharine was reluctant to accompany the man until she confirmed the car's identity, as she was concerned about being abducted and trafficked. Her father instructed her on various cars and even tested her knowledge on which ones were safe to drive. As she got inside, the car look and smelled brand new, like this person to the car off the showcase. At first, she was too afraid of getting inside because of her smell like sweat and didn't want to dirty the seat.

"Sorry, I smell, I just gotten off work. I didn't want your boss to see me like this to pick up my father. I hope he didn't give you any more problems,"

"It's alright miss, he just wants you to come and pick up your father,"

Even as Katharine apologized for her appearance, resentment simmered beneath her words. She was exhausted-not just from the long shift, the soaking rain, or the embarrassment of being collected by strangers, but from the ceaseless weight her father placed upon her. Each time she was pulled into another of his desperate schemes, forced to wait in the dark and cold for meetings with men like Mr. Miller, her anger grew sharper.

She hated what her father was becoming, hated the endless cycle of borrowed money and broken promises. How many times had she cleaned up his messes? How many times had she stood on unfamiliar streets, hoping nobody recognized her, wishing she could simply walk away? Yet still, she waited, duty and frustration knotting in her chest, her patience thinning with every drop of rain that slid down her neck. She was tired of loving someone whose choices only pushed them further apart.