Love Across the Light Years -The Devil CEO Indulges My Lies.

Karl stared at the empty space in front of him, and silence filled his mind.

He had come to double his money — but had ended up losing it all.

How did he get so engrossed that he didn’t even realize it?

He turned and glared at Pier.

Pier instantly understood his gaze. With a helpless expression, he quickly said, "I tried to stop you, Brother Karl. You didn’t listen to me." He avoided his eyes and looked away. "I didn’t know how else to stop you."

Karl closed his eyes.

Maybe now, he had no choice but to accept his fate and face the consequences in the most brutal form.

Surviving would be difficult, but he hoped his brothers would show him at least some mercy.

Pushing the chair back sharply, he stood up.

"We are done," he said, clearly signaling the end of the game.

He then turned slightly, reaching for Eira.

But just then —

A voice made him pause.

"Young Master, you can still choose to play more. Maybe you can reverse it."

The tone remained calm, but there was an unmistakable trace of manipulation beneath it.

Karl stilled for a second.

The offer seemed tempting — especially when it was the only possible way to recover everything he had just lost.

"There’s no need," Pier spoke up this time, cutting in quickly. "We don’t have any money. Whatever we had, we’ve already played."

The men glanced at him briefly before turning back to Karl with faint smiles.

"It’s fine if you don’t have money; you can still choose to play."

Both Pier and Karl frowned, not understanding what he meant.

The man caught their confusion clearly and didn’t bother dragging the suspense.

"We heard you brought quite a luxurious car here," he said, explaining smoothly. "How about using it to win back everything you’ve lost?"

The suggestion was calm, almost casual.

Yet —

The refusal came instantly.

"No," Karl said flatly. "I said we’re done."

The smile on the man’s face didn’t change, but something in his eyes did.

Karl noticed it — but chose to ignore it.

He turned again, about to reach for Eira, when another man spoke.

"You don’t seem to understand your situation."

Karl turned back, his brows furrowing.

His gaze instinctively flicked toward the door — only to notice men already standing by it, silently blocking their exit.

This was no longer a simple game.

It was a trap — one they had walked into willingly.

If he had been alone, he wouldn’t have cared.

But he had... Eira.

His fingers curled into fists.

"... What do you want?" Karl asked, his voice low.

The man smiled faintly. "Nothing much. Just a few more bets until we’re all satisfied." His gaze lingered meaningfully. "Let’s start with your car."

Karl’s expression darkened instantly.

Not because they were forcing him to stake the car — but because he could now clearly see that this wouldn’t end anytime soon.

Not even if he handed it over.

"Not happening," Karl said firmly. "That car isn’t mine to bet on."

A brief silence followed.

Then —

A soft, humorless chuckle broke it.

The men looked at him as if they could see straight through him.

"Not yours?" one of them asked. "But you drove it here like it was."

They clearly didn’t believe him.

How could they?

They had just watched him lose millions without even flinching.

That kind of indifference only came from someone to whom money meant nothing.

"Driving it here doesn’t make it mine," Karl said coldly. "I told you that car isn’t mine — and I’m not playing anymore."

"You’re young," someone muttered, making Karl turn his head toward him. "But you don’t have to be stubborn. You know we’re the best among the best, and we came here just for you. Give us some face. Don’t ruin the mood."

Karl frowned.

But before he could respond —

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

It wasn’t friendly.

Pier saw it and immediately tried to step forward to help.

However —

The moment he moved, someone grabbed him and held him back, shaking his head.

"Don’t try anything you shouldn’t."

"You aren’t doing this right!" Pier protested. "We played fairly all this while. Now that we don’t want to continue, shouldn’t you just let us go?"

The men burst into laughter.

"Let you go?" one of them echoed mockingly. "Kid, we never came here to let you go. We came..." he paused, turning his gaze toward Karl before finishing, "—to extract the most out of you."

"You—"

"I said we don’t have any more money to play with," Karl cut in sharply, stopping Pier. "Let us go."

He had already decided — he wouldn’t give in.

The men looked at him, their patience beginning to crack.

And just when it seemed like it would snap —

One of them spoke again.

"Well... if that’s the case," he said slowly, his gaze shifting past Karl toward the girl sitting quietly behind him, "we can help you find another way to continue."

Karl didn’t understand at first.

But he followed the man’s gaze — and turned to look at Eira.

"Since you can’t bet your car," the man continued casually, "you could always bet... something else."

Karl’s body went completely still.

The man’s smile widened — darker now.

"Such a small, adorable child ..." he said thoughtfully. "She would sell for quite a good price."

Karl’s expression changed entirely.

His posture shifted.

The earlier arrogance — gone.

The carelessness — gone.

What remained was something sharp ... cold ... dangerous.

"... Say that again," he said quietly.

Pier felt a chill crawl down his spine.

Because for the first time —

Karl didn’t sound reckless.

He sounded like someone who had finally understood the situation ... and was ready to tear it apart if necessary.

However, the men felt nothing.

They ignored the warning completely.

The one who had suggested it gestured toward another man standing nearby.

In the next second, Karl’s arms were locked in place.

Then he turned to someone else and said casually,

"Bring the little one here. Her uncle will place her on the bet."

And the man began walking toward Eira.

Karl struggled, trying to break free — but he couldn’t.

His movements were restrained completely.

However —

Just as the man reached closer to her —

A cold, feminine voice cut through the air, freezing everything in place.

"Touch her ... and see that arm torn apart."