The Man With One Eye
1157 Words
Nine years before becoming the owner of the largest casino in the city, Paul Aditya was just another employee.
Back then, nobody called him "Mr. Aditya."
Nobody waited for his orders.
Nobody feared him.
He was a simple floor manager working the night shift in a rundown casino called Bowo Golden Crown.
The place was old. The decorative lights flickered constantly. The carpets were worn and stained. Some slot machines broke down so often that the technicians practically lived inside the building.
Yet every night, customers still came.
They came with dreams.
They came with hope.
And most of all, they came with greed.
Paul understood them better than anyone.
During his years working there, he had learned a simple truth.
People did not gamble because they needed money.
They gambled because they believed they deserved fortune.
And fortune was addictive.
Very addictive.
One rainy night, while Paul was finishing paperwork after closing hours, something unusual happened.
A customer approached his desk.
The man looked around sixty years old.
He wore a black suit that seemed expensive despite its age.
His silver hair was neatly combed backward.
What caught Paul's attention, however, was not the man's appearance.
It was his face.
The stranger only had one eye.
His left eye socket was empty and covered by a black leather patch.
The remaining eye was unusually bright.
Almost golden.
"You're Paul Aditya, aren't you?" the man asked.
Paul nodded.
"Can I help you, sir?"
The stranger smiled.
"I believe you can."
Then he took a seat without being invited.
Paul frowned.
The casino was already closed.
The security guards had begun escorting the remaining customers outside.
Yet nobody approached the old man.
Strangely, it was as if nobody noticed him at all.
"I've been watching you for some time," the stranger said.
"Should I be worried?"
"No."
The man chuckled.
"You should be excited."
Paul leaned back.
He had dealt with drunk customers, angry gamblers, and even criminals before.
This man felt different.
Calmer.
More dangerous.
"What do you want?" Paul asked.
The stranger stared directly into his eyes.
"I want to make you rich."
Paul laughed.
"Everyone wants to be rich."
"Not everyone has the courage to grab fortune when it appears."
The old man reached into his coat.
For a brief moment, Paul expected a weapon.
Instead, the stranger placed a business card on the table.
The card was completely black.
No company logo.
No address.
No contact number.
Only a single name.
Alaric.
"Come see me tomorrow night."
"Why?"
"Because you're tired of working for other people."
Paul stared at the card.
Before he could ask another question, the old man stood up.
Then he walked away.
A moment later, he was gone.
Completely gone.
The casino lobby was empty.
As though he had never been there.
________________________________________
The next evening, curiosity defeated common sense.
After finishing work, Paul followed the address written on the back of the card.
It led him to an abandoned building near the old harbor.
The warehouse should have been empty.
It wasn't.
The moment he stepped inside, he found Alaric waiting near a wooden table.
Several suitcases rested beside him.
"You're late," Alaric said.
Paul checked his watch.
"I arrived exactly on time."
Alaric smiled.
"Then perhaps I arrived too early."
The old man gestured toward the suitcases.
"Open them."
Paul hesitated.
Then he unlocked the first case.
His breath caught instantly.
Money.
Stacks and stacks of money.
More cash than he had ever seen in his life.
He opened the second suitcase.
The third.
The fourth.
All filled with money.
Millions.
Maybe tens of millions.
He looked at Alaric.
"What is this?"
"An investment."
Paul stared in disbelief.
"Nobody gives away this kind of money."
"Normally, no."
"So what's the catch?"
The old man remained silent for several seconds.
Then his golden eye narrowed.
"Build your own casino."
Paul blinked.
"What?"
"Build a better one."
"A bigger one."
"A casino nobody will ever forget."
Paul laughed nervously.
"This has to be a joke."
"It isn't."
The old man pushed one suitcase toward him.
"Take it."
Paul did not move.
"Where did this money come from?"
For the first time, Alaric's smile disappeared.
His face became serious.
"Do you really want to know?"
Paul nodded.
The warehouse suddenly felt colder.
Much colder.
Then Alaric slowly removed his eye patch.
Paul nearly stumbled backward.
The left side of the man's face was empty.
There was no eye.
Only darkness.
Not flesh.
Not bone.
Darkness.
As if a piece of the night sky existed inside his skull.
Paul felt something moving within that darkness.
Hundreds of tiny lights.
Thousands.
Countless.
Like stars trapped inside a void.
"What the hell are you?" Paul whispered.
Alaric ignored the question.
Instead, he pointed toward the suitcases.
"Do you know where money comes from, Paul?"
"People."
"Work."
"Business."
Alaric shook his head.
"No."
He tapped the empty socket.
"It comes from desire."
The shadows inside the hollow eye shifted.
Faces appeared.
Dozens of them.
Men.
Women.
Old.
Young.
Rich.
Poor.
Each face vanished as quickly as it appeared.
Paul felt his blood run cold.
"What am I looking at?"
"Dreams."
Alaric's voice became almost a whisper.
"Every person who desperately wanted more."
The warehouse lights flickered.
"The money you're looking at was born from greed."
Paul stepped backward.
"This isn't possible."
"Of course it is."
Alaric smiled once more.
"A businessman traded his integrity."
"A politician traded his principles."
"A gambler traded his future."
The old man pointed toward his hollow socket.
"And one man traded his eye."
Paul froze.
"What?"
"A desperate man wanted fortune more than anything else."
The old man's golden eye gleamed.
"So he offered one of his eyes."
"And fortune answered."
Silence filled the warehouse.
Rain hammered against the roof above them.
Paul looked at the suitcases again.
Suddenly they felt wrong.
Unnatural.
Like something living inside them.
"You expect me to take this money?"
"No."
Alaric said calmly.
"I expect you to decide who you want to become."
The old man stood.
"If you walk away now, you'll remain an employee for the rest of your life."
He began walking toward the shadows.
"But if you accept it..."
His voice echoed through the warehouse.
"...you'll become the king of this city."
Paul's heartbeat thundered in his ears.
Every warning screamed at him to leave.
Yet he could not stop looking at the money.
The mansion.
The cars.
The power.
The luxury.
Everything he had ever dreamed of seemed to be sitting inside those suitcases.
Waiting.
A few moments later, Alaric disappeared into the darkness.
Only the money remained.
And Paul was left alone with a choice.
A choice that would create the greatest casino the city had ever seen.
A choice that would make him rich beyond imagination.
And a choice that would one day ruin everything.
Because fortune is never free.
Sometimes...
It is bought with an eye.
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