Chapter 3: The Game Within the Game

Everyone’s attention shifted to him. The hall fell silent.

It was like watching a preacher step up to the pulpit, ready to deliver a sermon no one wanted to hear.

Satisfied, Snake got straight to the point.

He didn’t waste a second. The room hung on his every word.

"Everyone, I’ve just figured out the surefire way to win this game."

His voice was smooth, almost soothing. You could tell he’d done this before.

The same shock and doubt flashed in everyone’s eyes.

People exchanged glances, some skeptical, others intrigued. A few leaned forward, hungry for answers.

I unconsciously clenched my fist, my palm growing sweaty—a bad feeling creeping in.

My instincts screamed at me—this was bad news. Snake was about to change the game for everyone.

Before that feeling could take hold, Snake continued.

He had us all in the palm of his hand, and he knew it.

"There’s a loophole in the rules. I’ll explain how to use it to take first place."

He paused for effect, letting the anticipation build. I could almost hear the gears turning in people’s heads.

"This round offers a $3 million bonus and a $1 million penalty. If multiple people tie for first, the prize is split; if multiple people tie for last, the penalty is split. So both amounts are capped. If my team takes both first and last place, guess what happens?"

He grinned, the question rhetorical. He was already savoring the outcome.

Sure enough, just as I suspected, he’d found the loophole too.

I rubbed my palms in frustration.

I could feel the opportunity slipping away. Snake was always a step ahead.

"You’d get $2 million," someone said.

A voice from the crowd, tentative but correct. The realization spread quickly.

Some players had noticed the loophole too.

You could see it in their eyes—the dawning understanding, the calculation.

"That’s right. The six of us team up, we’ll collect more cards than any solo player. At the end, we put all the coins on one person to make them first, winning the $3 million bonus. The other five have no coins, all tying for last, so the penalty is capped at $1 million. The whole team gets $2 million after the penalty."

He laid it out step by step, making it sound so simple. I felt my stomach knot.

"The surefire way is to rely on teamwork and numbers."

It was a numbers game, plain and simple. And he had the numbers.

"My team has six people. We already have a big advantage. I’m recruiting five more to make it eleven. Eleven versus nine—overwhelming odds, almost a guaranteed win."

His confidence was infectious. I could see some of the loners in the room weighing their options.

"After we win, the $2 million is split among eleven people. I just did the math—each person gets about $180,000."

He flashed a grin, as if $180,000 was pocket change. For some of us, it was everything.

"We can sign an agreement to distribute the money to everyone’s accounts, so no one can back out."

He pulled out a stack of pre-printed agreements, waving them like golden tickets. The crowd buzzed.

"Make your choice—join us, or go solo."

The ultimatum hung in the air. The room was silent again, the tension electric.

Snake laid out his plan in one breath. I had to admit, he was a talented speaker—clear, direct, and persuasive.

He could sell sand in the desert. Right now, he was selling hope to the desperate.

His words sparked a frenzy among the players.

People jostled to get closer, voices overlapping as they clamored to join. It was like watching sharks in a feeding frenzy.

I looked on, feeling a bit dejected—the initiative was now his.

I’d been too slow. The game had shifted, and I was left behind.

He and his crew already had a numbers advantage. Once he finished recruiting, I’d lose any chance of competing for first place.

It was checkmate, and I hadn’t even made my first move. I let that realization settle in, my jaw tight.

I sat silently in the corner, watching the others scramble to join Snake’s team. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

I almost laughed—two years ago, I was the one following his lead. Some lessons take a while to stick.

Two years had passed. The villain had gone unpunished—he was thriving.

He’d only gotten sharper, more ruthless. I wondered if karma ever bothered to show up in towns like this.

In fact, he’d only gotten better at the game and at reading people.

He could spot weakness a mile away, and he never hesitated to exploit it.

Actually, the loophole in this game was obvious; others would have spotted it soon enough. But speed is everything. Snake didn’t give anyone a chance to react—he jumped in first and took control.

He understood the American hustle—get in early, stake your claim, and let everyone else fight over scraps.

His adaptability and execution were better than mine.

I hated to admit it, but it was true. He was always one step ahead.

I gave a bitter smile and shook my head. I knew exactly what kind of opportunity I’d missed.

Regret tasted like burnt coffee and old cigarettes. I’d let the moment slip, and now I was paying for it.

Lost in self-pity, I didn’t notice Snake approaching.

He moved quietly, like a cat stalking prey. By the time I looked up, he was already there.

"Mason, want to join us?" Snake stood in front of me with a fake smile.

His tone was friendly, but his eyes were sharp. He didn’t care about me—he just wanted to win.

I looked up and answered with a question: "Aren’t you worried the other nine will team up against you? How can you be sure they can’t beat you with fewer numbers?"

It was a fair question, and for a second, I saw a flicker of annoyance cross his face.

Snake sneered. "If I see the other team catching up, I’ll just offer a little incentive and pull one or two over. People aren’t that stubborn. You’re too rigid—that’s why you lost so badly!"

He leaned in, voice low and conspiratorial. The words stung, but he wasn’t wrong.

He squatted down to look me in the eye, suddenly grabbing my left hand and examining my missing fingers, clicking his tongue.

The contact was jarring. I pulled my hand back, but he held on, turning it over like a trophy.

"Honestly, Mason, you’re smart. Last time, if you hadn’t helped me, I’d have been eliminated in the second round. But you can’t read people. People are selfish. For money, they’ll betray teammates in a heartbeat."

He said it with a kind of admiration, like he was offering me a compliment. I knew better.

"As long as the money’s right, anything goes."

He shrugged, as if that explained everything wrong with the world.

"Look at this lot. They’re all eager to join me, because they know I have the best chance. Just a bunch of sheep—easy to manage."

His contempt was obvious. I wondered how many of them realized they were just pawns in his game.

Snake patted my hand, then lowered his voice: "Mason, you’re a step too late. Even if you rally the rest against me, I have my ways. Remember what I said: with enough money, anything is possible."

He flashed a sinister smile, stood up, and walked away without looking back.

His confidence was unshakable. I watched him go, anger simmering in my chest.

His crew had already picked five more players—three strong men and two sharp-looking types.

They looked like they’d been handpicked for muscle and brains. Snake wasn’t leaving anything to chance.

Those not chosen begged to join, but Snake refused, though he left the door open.

He played it cool, keeping them on the hook. It was classic manipulation, and he knew exactly how to keep them desperate.