Don't hate the player, hate the game.

Part 1

A lot of the people that he had encountered had resorted to odd behaviour, be it addiction or mania, so she really did fit the plot quite well. If he were a better man, he would probably feel sorry for the way the baggy clothes hung off her frame, likely concealing a badly malnourished shadow of a girl. While he was aware of her debt and range of mishaps streaking her young life, he could not find it in himself to care about neither her age, nor her current state.

He was sent to collect, not to care.

"Excuse me Miss, may I sit?"

Dark eyes flitted up his long legs, over the perfect suit and up into his own face, lips stilling in an unfinished word as your gaze met his. For a moment, the breath caught in the back of your throat, where you had expected a regular salesman judging by his appearance, this one would let most men pale in comparison, no matter their occupation. The stranger was gorgeous in a way that should be forbidden, a perfection to his stature, his attire, his manners, his appearance. Only his eyes seemed to hold slight imperfection but that was what made him relatable, approachable, likeable even. Sympathy and charisma practically dripped off him when his lips quirked into a small lopsided smirk at your staring.

You blinked slowly when he asked again, slight amusement creeping into his otherwise perfectly polite inquiry. A bit confused, you looked to the left and right, where many unoccupied benches were lining the wall of the platform before your eyes returned to him.

"Huh." you mumbled, neither consent, nor denial.

Nevertheless, his sympathetic smile never faltered as the Salesman gently sat on the other side of the bench. Your eyes flicked to the black suitcase fleetingly as he placed it in between your bodies. The small breath that escaped him did not evade your ears as your chin again came to rest on top of your knees and from your peripheral you could see the smile falter just for a millisecond. It seemed as if the man had anticipated some kind of response from you when he sat down next to you instead of choosing one of the other benches.

"Miss?" he inquired gently as he leaned forward slightly to glance at your face again. When you did not respond, the leather of his shoes creaked marginally when he shifted his weight even more forward in hope of catching your attention with his kind expression.

"It is rude to stare, you know?" came your reply, finally, and you tilted your head sideways to rest your cheek against your clean knee instead, allowing him to see your face again. A small smile brought the corners of your mouth up to match his, a contrast to your words.

"Why don't you bother someone else? I am not interested.", a sweetness clearly meant to mock him lacing your tone.

One of his brows quirked up slightly, the only sign that he had thought of you as an easier target. Nothing about you hinted at a feisty personality, the source of your debt had been the loss of a job, then your small flat, leaving you to live off of badly underpaid labour and cheap food. At least that's what your file stated, nothing about any disagreements, the current of bad luck had just drawn you under deeper and deeper.

Still, he was specifically tasked with approaching you, so the small hiccup did not throw him off, instead an even more charming version of his trademark smile made its way onto his handsome face.

"Oh? I think you will be interested." He approached the subject directly while he placed the suitcase on his knees and opened the lid to reveal the pretty sum of money as well as the two Ddakji tiles. "I'm offering you the chance to win some money to deal with those pesky debts." His eyes drew to your mud-covered knees and shoes deliberately. "You don't want to run away anymore, do you?" he ended with another dazzling smile that made his eyes crease in such a trustful expression.