With a grin, the dealer opened his eyes.
Jackpot.
He overheard crying, he overheard laughter, but most important of all, he finally saw what was chasing him.
The person chasing the dealer was himself. Elias — that was what Claire called him.
In all honesty, he more or less knew whatever protected Claire wasn't going to prevent shadows with such depth from entering her home; it was his plan.
The dealer was more or less glad that it was himself and not a random "memory." If it were, he and Claire were most definitely going to be killed today.
Big risks come with bigger rewards.
The saying was his own — a proverb he coined as himself, the dealer.
Learning of the existence of "Elias" opened the dealer's eyes to the possibility of his own memories being lost.
Without a doubt, Elias was a past version of the dealer. Although at first it was disheartening to know he had come after someone — that he wasn't the original — in all honesty, it gave him something close to a panic attack. But a realization came quickly after.
He was the future.
The dealer had an advantage.
Someone had poisoned the dealer; afterwards, he became more aware, as if that poison killed a part of himself that had held him back.
Now, he was certain that the "part" of himself which fully died was Elias — a fragment of the original Elias.
Although the poison was most likely an attempt on his life, a strange twinge of gratitude was mixed into the complex feelings he had toward that "poisoner."
Every day seemed to go backwards.
It was an observation he made after waking from the poisoning — the calendar on the wall now showed October 16th, rather than the 23rd.
Now a question arose: if the dealer didn't succumb to sleep here, would time continue to regress?
The answer was yes.
Indeed, it would.
Slowly but surely, he watched a piece of the floor disappear. It crumbled and reformed — a rebirth of a new world.
Immediately after this "rebirth," the dealer watched the door to Claire's room open, exposing Elias to his line of sight.
Finally, he could confirm the last detail he needed: the scar on his neck.
The dealer stood up from the couch, grinning at Elias.
[The dealer] "Nice to meet you… Elias, was it?"
Elias turned back with a dumbfounded expression, then looked behind him.
The whole "looking back" thing was strange — perhaps a habit from the past. He had no time to think about it.
Actually, he did, he just wasn't able to think at all.
It seemed the sudden change of terrain was overloading the dealer's brain. At this rate, he might even fall unconscious.
The dealer at this point was running on fumes, but he still had enough strength to extend his hand and proclaim:
[The dealer] "Let's have a nice competition, shall we?"
He couldn't remember Elias's response after that.
Actually, the only thing he really remembered was dragging himself across the house and opening a door.
[The dealer] "She's safe."
With a smile, he muttered so.
Then a thud could be heard.
The dealer fell unconscious.
A new day arrived, and the dealer woke up alertly. After his stunt the "night" before, he couldn't guarantee his own safety in the morning.
No — it wasn't the night before.
Now the calendar showed October 8th, eight days before the incident at Claire's home.
Speaking of Claire, it was obvious she was somehow important in figuring out wherever they currently were. The Elias he had been observing for the last two days always seemed to have a plan, so his existence and interaction with Claire could only mean he had plans for her.
His first instinct was to grab his phone and call her, to tell her she had to come here under the dealer's protection.
But he thought again. A lesson learned through many mistakes — always think again.
Elias existed as a shadow; therefore, he wasn't human.
Realizing this, the dealer cursed his own humanity. Claire was most likely with Elias right now. Whatever history he had with Claire clearly charmed her — quite effectively, he would add.
Without a way to get to Claire, the dealer was a step behind Elias.
[The dealer] "Ridiculous."
The mutter was spat out in pure annoyance. How could a filthy shadow of himself outsmart the dealer?
All because he was human, all because he had human needs. The dealer hated it.
In that annoyance — no, it was more akin to anger — the dealer made a vow.
[The dealer] "You won't ever be ahead of me again."
Now it was time to initiate his plan:
Find the veiled stranger.
If he found the same stranger who poisoned him, he would ask for the poison. If the stranger refused, he would force him.
He was the only dealer, so in turn, he was the only Elias.
He would kill anyone who got in his way, and right now, there was a pretty annoying bug in his way.
So, the dealer decided to adapt, to change.
Today, the dealer let go of a tradition.
Today, he raised his mirrors back up.
[The dealer] "I'm not afraid of myself."
Now that he knew who his opponent was, he almost wanted to laugh.
It was his past self.
So the dealer watched himself — grooming himself in the mirror, laughing in the mirror.
He laughed especially hard today. It was to mock Elias — the one who once petrified him, the first who instilled fear into the dealer.
Not anymore, though.
Rats are scary — and the dealer wanted to show Elias what a real alleyway rat could do.
He repeated those words as he put on his shoes, as he pulled on his hoodie, and even as he stepped outside.
It was a mantra — a declaration, a challenge.
[The dealer] "Try me."
He got no response. The dealer expected none.
So he smiled — an act perfected without a mirror. It didn't feel foreign anymore, because the dealer now had a reason for joy.
The dealer was going to beat himself in a game.
Not only that — he would destroy himself.
After the humiliation he endured, the dealer wouldn't ever accept a stalemate now.
The dealer was now going straight for a checkmate.
[The dealer] "And every move will be forced."
He proclaimed this with a confident smile — confident enough that anyone in their right mind would believe him.
Even the stranger in the cloak.
In the corner of his peripheral vision, the dealer spotted something odd:
A wisp of smoke — the same one he had seen when he was poisoned.
For the second time in eight days, the dealer smiled and said:
Jackpot.