In a dimly lit room, thick with tobacco smoke and the sharp scent of alcohol, laughter and murmurs rise from a poker game.

The low light barely allows the tense faces of the players to be seen.

Among them is Leonar, a young man with a hardened expression and dark eyes, caught in a terrible hand with no clear way out.

'Another damn lousy hand…,' Leonar thought, cursing his bad luck.

Even though his hand was a disaster, he remained calm, trying to look unbothered.

"What's wrong, gonna fold again?" taunted one of the players as he saw him hesitate.

"Come on, you've already lost everything; make it official," another added, pushing his chips to the center with a defiant grin.

Ignoring the provocations, Leonar threw his cards down, deciding to drop out of the round.

One of the players revealed his winning hand, a straight flush that took the entire pot.

As they watched him lose, several players laughed, but Leonar just watched as the money changed hands.

'Damn… at this rate, I'll never get out of here…,' he thought, growing more frustrated.

Then one of them pointed at him and turned to the dealer with a mocking smile.

"How much does our friend here owe?"

The dealer, a thin man with a mischievous smile, chuckled.

"I can't reveal that, but let's just say… it's not a small sum."

Suddenly, two large men dressed in black entered the room and headed straight for Leonar.

"Is the game over?" one of the men asked the dealer.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

He nodded slightly.

"Perfect. You, come with us," one of them ordered.

Leonar sighed, resigned, and stood without resisting. He followed the two men toward a private room at the back of the casino, where the atmosphere was quieter and more oppressive.

There, behind a desk, sat the boss of the place, a man everyone called Barret.

Barret looked at Leonar in silence, allowing the tension to fill the room before he finally spoke.

"Seems like you're still on a losing streak, huh?" he said at last, with a near-condescending smile.

"Yeah, seems luck's not on my side," Leonar replied, trying to stay calm.

The truth was… he was in deep trouble.

His special skill had, for some reason, vanished a few weeks ago with no sign of returning.

Barret drummed his fingers on the table and let out a short laugh before sliding an envelope toward him.

"This time, you're not getting off so easily. I found you a job."

Leonar raised his eyebrows, surprised and a bit anxious.

"And what kind of job is that?" he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

"One where you'll be useful. And don't even think about giving me any health excuses," warned Barret sternly. "I already know you're allergic to lactose, wheat, pollen, and even seafood. That last one, I must say, surprised me," he added with a dry laugh.

Leonar gave a strained smile.

"What can I say? Even my body's got it out for me."

Barret eyed him disapprovingly at that response.

"Not funny, you know?" he replied, wiping the smile off Leonar's face. "This is your last chance. If you fail, all support is gone."

Leonar swallowed hard at those words.

'If only I'd used that skill better…,' he thought angrily, cursing himself.

"I got you a position as a gatherer on an exploration team."

For a moment, Leonar was silent, surprise on his face.

"An exploration team? Does that mean… I'll be facing monsters?" Leonar asked, feeling a chill run down his spine.

"Yes, but you'll be in the back of the team. You just have to collect the resources they leave after clearing the dungeon," Barret explained impatiently.

"Are you crazy? You want me to get killed? I'm not even a hunter, just an ordinary guy!"

Barret looked at him with disdain.

"Well, maybe you should've thought of that before getting into debt with me. This is the job; take it or leave it."

Leonar lowered his gaze, knowing he had no other choice.

"One more thing," Barret said, snapping his fingers.

One of his men approached with a small bag and placed it in front of Leonar.

"Here are your things. Get ready, because at dawn, you'll be in the dungeon. There's a car waiting outside."

Resigned, Leonar took the bag despite the nervousness he felt.

'Am I really going into a dungeon…?' he thought, recalling countless news stories about hunters who didn't make it back alive.

It was a dangerous job.

A very dangerous job.

As he left the room, Barret's words echoed in his mind.