The pool hall is empty except for the sound of balls clicking against felt and the low hum of fluorescent lights. Eddy Dee finds himself alone at the table, cue in hand, facing a mysterious woman whose calm confidence feels rehearsed, almost ancient. An old man sits nearby, offering commentary that feels equal parts irritating and unsettling, as if he already knows the outcome. The game moves strangely—shots bend in impossible ways, luck tilts unfairly—and when Eddy loses, he feels not just defeated, but judged. Something about this place resists time, as if the room exists outside of consequence, waiting for him to catch up to it.

As the woman proposes a second game, fragments of memory begin to surface. Headlights. Laughter. The violent interruption of metal and glass. Eddy realizes the truth piece by piece: he died in a drunk driving accident, one that took two other lives with it, including a beloved local university football star whose absence still echoes beyond this room. The weight of that knowledge presses into every shot he takes. The old man’s commentary sharpens, no longer annoying but absolute, while the woman’s smile reveals something infernal beneath its charm. Eddy understands now—he is not merely playing pool; he is confronting the sum of his choices.

The revelation lands fully: the woman is the devil, the old man is God, and the game is not about winning but reckoning. Eddy is forced to decide his own fate, not through confession or plea, but through precision, patience, and accountability. Each shot becomes a moral decision, each miss a reminder that shortcuts have consequences. In this final frame, fate is not handed down—it is played out, one deliberate move at a time. Written by director Dev Ciné, this story frames judgment not as punishment, but as an unavoidable mirror, where redemption or damnation rests in the hands of the guilty themselves.