You... just you

You've lost everything. Your pouch is feeling light, and your money is swallowed up by the abyss of bad decision-making and other things. You sit there for a long moment, staring at the felt table. But then... you get a idea. You've heard these establishments accept other antes. And... if you win, then all your trouble will go away. Everything will be fine just as is, and life can continue, just as you like.

In a quiet, trembling voice, you say:

“…I don’t have any more money.”

The dealer raises an eyebrow. “Then you’re out.”

Before he can move on, you speak again.

“I’ll bet my rights. If I lose, you can sell me.”

The entire table goes silent. You swallow hard and continue, cheeks burning with shame. But resolved to settle this. The dealer passes you a paper, which you then sign, and he stores.

“Very well. Since the ante is your rights, we shall wager fifty lentimes in turn.”