《Luck: The Luckless Hero [LitRPG + Slice of Life + Modern + Weak to Strong]》 BOOK 1: Chapter 1 ¡°Why am I sooooo unlucky?¡± is something a million people have said a million times, but in the case of Malick Tychandros, a genuinely unlucky guy, it¡¯s warranted. Bad things always happen to him. Bird flys by? Poop incoming. Car is running fine. Till it¡¯s not. Shoelaces? Untied. *** Malickandreus Tychandros¡ªor Malick, as his friends called him¡ªwas running late for his job interview. Well, technically, he¡¯d be on time if traffic was normal. But he had long since accepted that traffic was never normal. At least once a week, he¡¯d find himself stuck in a jam, forced into a detour, or caught behind someone who apparently mistook the gas pedal for a suggestion. Today, he was really hoping it wouldn¡¯t be one of those days. Unfortunately, it was absolutely one of those days. CLUNK. CLUNK. PHHHHSHHHH. His 2020 Toyoga Branmby, which had been running perfectly fine yesterday, had just transformed into an expensive metal brick right in the middle of the road. And during rush hour, no less. He had specifically chosen this car for its reputation for reliability. ¡®Guess that was a bold-faced lie,¡¯ he thought dryly, listening to the chorus of furious honking behind him. Cars swerved around him, drivers glaring as they sped past. These people all had places to be, things to do, and now, thanks to him, they were probably going to be late. Somewhere among them, a man who had also been on his way to the exact same job interview grumbled, ¡°Just my luck!¡± as he got stuck in the jam Malick had just caused. Ironically, that guy even though he would be late, would probably make it. Malick? Not a chance. ¡®Looks like I¡¯m the one causing the delays today,¡¯ Malick mused, somewhat amused. After a lifetime of what felt like constant bad luck, he had learned to roll with the punches. It was either laugh about it or complain endlessly, and Malick had long since chosen laughter. He sighed, pulled out his phone, and made two calls. The first: to the company, letting them know he¡¯d been unexpectedly detained (which, honestly, was putting it lightly). The second: to AMMA. It was already on his favorites list. A few minutes later, a familiar tow truck pulled up. The driver leaned out the window, smirking. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you just get a better car by now?¡± Malick climbed in, groaning. ¡°Oh, trust me, I would¡ªif my wallet wasn¡¯t allergic to financial stability.¡± The driver just laughed and took him to the usual garage. *** The tow truck rumbled into the garage, Malick¡¯s poor, suffering car in tow. ¡°Hey Chuck, look who¡¯s back!¡± the driver called out, leaning out the window with a grin. Chuck glanced up from under the hood of another car and smirked. ¡°Malick! My favorite customer!¡± Malick grimaced. ¡°You know, you guys should really have a punch card or something. Buy ten repairs, get one free. At this rate, I¡¯d probably have a platinum membership by now.¡± If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Chuck wiped his hands on a rag and shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s weird, man. The car itself is fine. No major issues. Every time you come in, it¡¯s just little stuff¡ªspark plugs, fuel valves, random things that shouldn¡¯t constantly break down.¡± Malick crossed his arms. ¡°And yet, somehow, I¡¯m in here at least once a month.¡± Chuck shrugged. ¡°Well, maybe you should just sell it.¡± Malick exhaled dramatically. ¡°Oh yeah, great idea. Then I can drive¡­ what exactly? A bicycle? A pack mule? A Segwa?¡± Chuck snorted. ¡°I don¡¯t know, maybe something that actually works?¡± Malick gave him a deadpan look. ¡°That¡¯s funny. You have no idea. This is the more reliable car. The last one broke down every week¡ªthis one only does it monthly.¡± Chuck stared at him, tossing the rag onto a workbench. ¡°You¡¯re joking.¡± Malick shook his head. ¡°Nope. That last car was basically held together with hope and prayers.¡± Chuck let out a low whistle. ¡°Damn. Alright, let¡¯s pop the hood and see what this one¡¯s whining about now.¡± After about an hour of tinkering, checking, and muttering about ¡°cursed vehicles,¡± Chuck straightened up. Chuck wiped his hands on his greasy coveralls and let out a sigh. ¡°Alright, so here¡¯s the deal¡ªlooks like it¡¯s just another minor problem. We¡¯ll replace the faulty part, do a quick tune-up, and make sure nothing else is about to betray you on the road.¡± Malick raised an eyebrow. ¡°And the damage?¡± Chuck tapped a few numbers into the shop¡¯s computer. ¡°Labor, parts¡­ yeah, looks like you¡¯re looking at about $162.¡± Malick let out a long-suffering sigh as he pulled out his Vizex card. ¡°Here we go again.¡± *** Malick pulled into his apartment complex, his car making a noise that sounded suspiciously like a wheeze. He shut off the engine and gave the dashboard a light pat. ¡°Try not to die overnight, alright?¡± The car clicked in response, which he took as either passive aggression or a desperate cry for help. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he headed toward his unit¡ªonly to pause when he saw a familiar figure hauling boxes down the stairs. His girlfriend. Well, ex, apparently. She was halfway through stuffing a duffel bag into the trunk of her car when she spotted him. Instead of looking surprised or guilty, she just rolled her eyes. ¡°Weren¡¯t you supposed to be at your interview? And then the gym?¡± Malick blinked. Wow. No shame. No hesitation. Just straight-up acting like he was the one with weird timing. ¡°Yeah, well,¡± he said, crossing his arms. ¡°Car broke down, had to get it towed, spent a small fortune fixing it, so¡­ kinda threw off my schedule. But hey, great to see you had a productive morning. Packing up all your stuff¡ªwhat, spontaneous spring cleaning?¡± She huffed and slammed the trunk shut. ¡°I was gonna text you later.¡± ¡°Uh-huh. Lemme guess¡ªwe need to talk?¡± She shrugged. ¡°I mean, we do.¡± Malick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°Lemme save us both some time. You¡¯ve been cheating, you¡¯re moving out, and I¡¯m supposed to feel like an idiot for not noticing sooner. That about right?¡± She shifted uncomfortably, which meant yes. ¡°Cool, cool,¡± Malick nodded. ¡°And let me guess¡ªhe doesn¡¯t know you¡¯re actually a nightmare to live with right?¡± Her eye twitched. ¡°You know, you could at least act a little upset.¡± ¡°Oh, trust me, I am. But also? I just shelled out $162 to keep my car from dying again, so honestly? You getting out of my life for free is almost a win.¡± She scoffed, muttered something under her breath, and climbed into her car without another word. Malick watched as she pulled out of the lot, disappearing down the street like a bad investment he¡¯d finally cut loose. He let out a deep breath and turned back toward his apartment. ¡°Alright. Time to see if anything in my fridge isn¡¯t expired.¡± *** The more Malick thought about his now ex-girlfriend and how she¡¯d been cheating on him for who knows how long, the more he realized¡ªhe¡¯d seen the signs. He¡¯d known. He had just convinced himself that maybe, just maybe, things would turn around. Now? He mostly just wanted to punch himself in the face. ¡®Why do I keep making such dumb decisions?¡¯ He sighed, yanked open the fridge, and surveyed the contents. Expired milk. Expired yogurt. A takeout box that might have been from last week but also might have been from last month. And then, in the midst of all this biohazard material¡ª Beer. ¡°Guess dinner¡¯s sorted,¡± he muttered, grabbing a can and cracking it open. His ex had been a terrible cook. Most of their meals had come from FoodGrub, and every time he suggested she try learning, she¡¯d wave him off with a dismissive, ¡°I will! I¡¯m just so busy with acting right now!¡± ¡®Acting, huh?¡¯ ¡®How much money did I drop on those lessons?¡¯ How much had he spent supporting her, covering rent, buying food, making sure she could chase her dreams while she was busy sneaking around with some other guy? He took a long sip of his beer, the bitterness fitting his mood perfectly. ¡®That¡¯s my problem, isn¡¯t it? Always trying to be the nice guy. Always hoping things will turn around. But they never do. Do they?¡¯ And just like that, he spiraled. Straight into the familiar pit of self-pity, beer in hand, overanalyzing every dumb choice he¡¯d made. At some point, he considered putting on some sad music. Maybe something dark and depressing. Maybe something goth like the Sisters of Mercies, really lean into the moment. But before he could complete his descent into full-on melancholic beer-drinking protagonist mode, something slid under his door. A flyer. Malick stared at it for a moment, then down at his beer. ¡®¡­That better not be for acting lessons.¡¯ Chapter 2 Malick¡¯s evening took an unexpected turn the moment he picked up the flyer under his door. Printed in bold letters, it announced the grand opening of a new bar¡ªThe Last Drop¡ªjust around the corner, with ¡°First Round¡¯s Half Off!¡± as it¡¯s tempting promise. ¡®Half off? Well, that¡¯ll help me forget about this miserable day,¡¯ he thought, cracking open the last beer in his fridge. Before he knew it, Malick found himself at The Last Drop, the neon sign flickering like a beacon for the hopeless and the hopeful alike. Fueled by a cocktail of heartbreak and cheap beer, he settled onto a stool at the bar. ¡°Bartender! It¡¯s half off right?¡± ¡°Yes sir, what can I get you?¡± ¡°Tequila. 4 shots!¡± ¡°Coming right up.¡± With his fourth shot of tequila warming him from the inside, he felt invincible. In a moment of boozy bravado, Maluck stood up onto his bar stool and bellowed, ¡°I am the best person in this entire town, and my ex is a bitch!¡± His voice echoed through the room as he attempted a motivational speech about his own greatness while precariously balancing on the seat, wobbling like his life choices. The crowd¡¯s response was less than encouraging¡ªbooing and laughter rippled around him. ¡°Get down!¡± ¡°You¡¯re drunk!¡± But Maluck only doubled down, slurring, ¡°You just don¡¯t appreciate my greatness!¡± *** POV: Astral Universe Somewhere in the Astral Universe, the abstract embodiment of Pride gave a nod of intrigue. ¡°Ooh this guys interesting.¡± *** POV: Calgary After getting warned, and told to sit down, barely recovering from his self-aggrandizing moment, Malick¡¯s eyes landed on a couple dancing together near the jukebox. Their effortless chemistry and perfect smiles stirred a bitter envy in him. He loudly complained to anyone within earshot, ¡°Why can¡¯t I have that? Look at them¡ªperfect chemistry, perfect moves! I bet they don¡¯t even fight over who gets the last chicken wing!¡± As he made a clumsy attempt to photobomb their selfies, he muttered under his breath about how ¡°some people have all the luck.¡± Even in his drunken haze, he could almost feel Envy scribbling down notes on his misfortunes. No sooner had the dance floor debacle subsided than a drunken patron accidentally bumped into him, sending a ripple of spilled beer in his wake. Malick¡¯s eyes flared with a sudden, explosive anger. ¡°DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU JUST SPILLED BEER ON?!¡± he roared, grabbing a handful of coasters and launching them like off-target ninja stars. *** POV: Astral Universe Each wild toss missed its mark, yet his furious performance drew an approving, if bemused, nod from the unspoken spirit of Wrath. Wrath had flown over when Envy and Pride told him an interesting human had appeared on Earth *** POV: Calgary After the coaster fiasco, Malick¡¯s mood shifted. He slumped onto a sagging couch in a shadowed corner of the bar, pulling out his phone to scroll through his ex¡¯s social media. ¡®I should block her¡­ but maybe I¡¯ll wait until she sees what she¡¯s missing,¡¯ he mused, completely absorbed in the digital parade of her so-called perfect life. His inactivity was so profound that even the bartender paused mid-polish to ask if he was okay. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. *** POV: Astral Universe In that suspended moment, the embodiment of Sloth couldn¡¯t help but smirk at his dedication to doing absolutely nothing. *** POV: Calgary Eventually, Malick dragged himself off the couch and staggered back to the bar, where his eyes caught sight of an unattended tip bowl. ¡°Finders keepers,¡± he whispered to himself, snatching a few crumpled bills before ordering yet another round. Emboldened by his little heist, he leaned in to convince the bartender to give him a discount on his shot. ¡°Come on, man, I¡¯m your best customer and it¡¯s opening night!¡± he slurred. *** POV: Astral Universe The unspoken spirit of Greed clinked glasses with Pride in approval, both toasting Maluck¡¯s audacity as if egging him on to make even worse decisions. *** POV: Calgary Not long after, hunger overtook him. Maluck decided the best way to celebrate his shitty day was by ordering everything on the menu¡ªburger, fries, nachos, wings, and a generous side of chili cheese fries, because why stop at mild regret when you can aim for a full-blown existential crisis? When the bartender raised an eyebrow and asked, ¡°You sure you want all that?¡± Maluck, with the unwavering confidence of a man four shots deep, grinned defiantly. ¡°I¡¯ll show her what living my best life looks like!¡± Twenty minutes later, his feast arrived in all its glorious, artery-clogging greasiness. With the speed and ferocity of a competitive eater who had something to prove, he attacked the mountain of food, drawing cheers from the onlookers. For a brief, shining moment, Maluck wasn¡¯t just a heartbroken drunk¡ªhe was a legend. ** POV: Astral Universe Gluttony couldn¡¯t hide its delight at Malick¡¯s overindulgence. Him and all his fellow Sins had gathered around in the Astral Universe and were all cheering for this human. *** POV: Calgary As the night wore on and the alcohol loosened any remaining inhibitions, Malick found himself drawn to the karaoke stage. Fueled by a potent mix of booze and bitter memories, he took the mic and launched into a disastrously off-key rendition of ¡°Careful Whispers.¡± With exaggerated passion, he dedicated the performance to everyone who had ever betrayed him, winking at half the room as he concluded, ¡°If you¡¯re single tonight, so am I!¡± *** POV: Astral Universe ¡°Hey Lust! Looks like the human is a fan of yours!¡± Said Pride with an arrogant smirk. Lust had to agree, despite the collective secondhand embarrassment that followed. *** POV: Calgary By the time Malick finally staggered out of The Last Drop, the neon glow of the bar fading behind him, he was blissfully unaware of the cosmic followers he¡¯d just accrued. In his drunken haze, all the Seven Sins had taken a keen interest in his actions, silently nodding their approval. ¡®I really have a shit life, don¡¯t I?¡¯ he thought with a rueful smile, as the cool night air greeted him and his half-empty bottle in his hand. *** POV: Astral Universe ¡°You know how those goody two-shoes keep pushing for that joint human supervision project? I think we can use this guy,¡± Pride said. The other Sins started chatting amongst themselves. Sloth groaned, stretching lazily in his cosmic seat. ¡°Ugh, paperwork, meetings¡­ supervising humans sounds exhausting.¡± Greed, still swirling a golden chalice of something unnaturally expensive, scoffed. ¡°Not if we do it our way, sugar. We let him be himself, give him a little nudge in the right¡ªor should I say wrong¡ªdirection, and boom. Instant luck points.¡± Wrath cracked his knuckles, eyes gleaming. ¡°If it means more drunken brawls, brah, I¡¯m in.¡± Envy flipped through his ever-growing list of grievances. ¡°Fine, I guess. But don¡¯t even think about it¡ªI¡¯m calling dibs on making him miserable, and I¡¯m not about to share that misery quota with all of you.¡± Gluttony licked his lips. ¡°And I want to see just how much indulgence a single mortal can handle.¡± Lust, still recovering from Felix¡¯s disastrous karaoke performance, rubbed her temples. ¡°If I must. But darling, I¡¯ll take it upon myself to refine his flirting¡ªbecause that pitiful little display was simply agonizing to witness.¡± Pride grinned, draping an arm over his throne. ¡°Then it¡¯s settled! We¡¯ll crown him our emissary on Earth¡ªa living testament to our divine superiority and the flawless embodiment of our most exquisite qualities.¡± A hush fell over the Sins as they turned their gaze back to Maluck, who was currently drunkenly wandering around, attempting to high-five a potted plant. Sloth yawned. ¡°So, uh¡­ do we actually tell him about this? Or just¡­ let him roll with it?¡± Pride smirked. ¡°Why ruin the fun? Let¡¯s just find a way to nudge him in the right direction.¡± Chapter 3 Maluck stumbled through the dimly lit streets, still buzzing from the drinks he¡¯d downed at the bar. His mind was a blur, his steps slightly uneven¡ªsomewhere between a confident strut and a newborn deer on ice¡ªwhen a neon OPEN sign caught his eye. ¡®A sign! Literally!¡¯ his booze-soaked brain declared. Clearly, fate itself was guiding him toward¡­ whatever this place was. Food? More booze? Life-changing wisdom from a late-night psychic? Didn¡¯t matter. Destiny was calling, and Maluck, in all his drunken glory, was ready to answer. A small, shady fortune teller¡¯s shop stood tucked between two closed storefronts, looking like it had been surviving off sheer stubbornness and questionable tax practices. A dusty crystal ball sat in the window, next to a hand-painted sign that read ¡°NO REFUNDS, NO EXCEPTIONS¡±, which felt less like a business policy and more like a warning. Above the entrance, a banner hung in bold, slightly peeling letters: ¡°CHANGE YOUR LUCK NOW!¡± Malick squinted at it, swaying slightly. His luck had always been terrible¡ªepically, catastrophically bad. Just last week, he found a $20 bill on the ground, only to be dive-bombed by a pigeon mid-celebration. His most recent attempt at cooking ended with a small kitchen fire, a visit from the landlord, and an intense SkeweSearch for ¡°how to get the smell of burnt failure out of an apartment.¡± Maybe this was the universe finally throwing him a bone. Or maybe it was just the tequila talking. ¡®Either way,¡¯ he thought, gripping the door handle for balance, ¡®what¡¯s the worst that could happen?¡¯ Pushing open the creaky wooden door, he stepped inside. The shop smelled¡­ strange. A mix of incense, dust, and something faintly herbal. The dim interior was cluttered with odd trinkets¡ªjade figurines, strange masks, stacks of yellowing papers with cryptic symbols. Behind the counter sat an old Chinese man, who looked like he had walked straight out of the 1980s movie Grimlimgs. The old man peered at Malick with a knowing gaze, his deep-set eyes gleaming like embers beneath his heavy brows. His robe, adorned with faintly shimmering embroidery, gave the impression of ancient wisdom rather than mere age. The air around him carried the faint scent of incense and something older¡ªlike parchment left untouched for centuries. ¡°Young man, are you seeking a fortune?¡± he asked, his voice low and resonant, as if layered with echoes from beyond the veil. ¡°Nooo, I wanna changed muh luck!¡± Malick slurred, his words dragging together as he clung to the counter for balance. The old man stroked his wispy silver beard, nodding as though he had been expecting this request. ¡°Hmm¡­ tell me your birth date,¡± he murmured, his fingers already reaching for a piece of aged parchment. Malick complied, and with steady hands, the old man inscribed the information in ink that shimmered ever so slightly under the dim lantern light. Without another word, he turned and retrieved a massive tome bound in cracked, dark leather. Arcane symbols adorned its surface, shifting almost imperceptibly as he laid it on the table. He flipped through the pages with slow, deliberate movements, his lips parting in a low chant. Soft, rhythmic murmurs¡ªwords in a language Malick didn¡¯t recognize¡ªdrifted through the small space, weaving through the air like invisible threads. ¡°Hooooum¡­ huuumm¡­ let us see¡­ ahhhhhh¡­¡± The room seemed to darken at the edges, the candlelight flickering, shadows stretching unnaturally. A strange energy filled the air, making Malick¡¯s skin prickle. His excitement faded into quiet unease, his senses sharpening despite the lingering haze of alcohol. Finally, the old man stopped on a page and tapped it. His face grew serious. ¡°Young man,¡± he said gravely, ¡°you were born under a bad moon, while the dark star circled the planet. A once-in-a-million-year occurrence.¡± Malick frowned. ¡°Okay¡­ and?¡± The old man leaned forward. ¡°Has your luck always been bad?¡± Malick blinked. ¡°Yes! It has!¡± The old man nodded sagely. ¡°No wonder, no wonder indeed. You, my son, are destined to be cursed with horrendous misfortune for life.¡± Malick¡¯s stomach dropped. ¡°Wait¡ªwhat?! Is there no way around it?¡± ¡°Unfortunately, no.¡± Malick felt a surge of panic. ¡°B-but¡ªyour banner¡ªit liter¡¯ly says I can change my luck here!¡± he protested, jabbing a shaky finger in the general direction of the entrance, though he wasn¡¯t entirely sure he was pointing at the right thing. The old man sighed. ¡°That is for people with normal bad luck. Your situation is different. You are a once-in-an-era son of misfortune. There is no cure.¡± Malick felt like the walls were closing in¡ªor maybe that was just the tequila catching up to him. Either way, pure desperation took over. ¡°I don¡¯ wanna spend my whole life havin¡¯¡­ horrendous bad luck!¡± he blurted out, the word horrendous taking far too much effort to pronounce. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. The old man tapped his fingers on the counter, his gaze distant, as if weighing something unseen. The silence stretched long enough for Malick to start swaying again. Then, at last, the old man spoke. ¡°Well¡­ there is one thing we could do.¡± Malick perked up immediately, nearly toppling over from the sudden movement. ¡°WHAT?! Tell me!¡± Malick slammed his hands onto the counter for emphasis¡ªexcept he missed slightly and smacked a decorative bowl instead. It wobbled precariously, did a dramatic little spin, and, of course, tumbled to the floor, shattering into pieces. CRASH Malick winced. ¡°Ugh, sorryz, I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll pays for dat,¡± he mumbled. The old man hesitated, his gaze growing distant, as if peering beyond the veil of time itself. Finally, he spoke, his voice carrying the weight of something ancient. ¡°My great-great-grandfather retrieved a talisman from the East¡ªa bracelet forged in rites long forgotten, imbued with energies that ward off misfortune. It does not grant good luck, but it may temper the misfortune that hounds you, reducing your burden to¡­ something more bearable.¡± His fingers traced unseen patterns on the counter, the flickering candlelight making the shadows around him dance. Malick let out a heavy breath, his tequila-laced breath potent enough to get several small mosquitoes in the area drunk. Swaying slightly, he slurred, ¡°Tha¡¯s better ¡®n nothing! C¡¯n I¡­ c¡¯n I have it?¡± The old man slowly shook his head, his expression unreadable. ¡°This talisman is bound to my family¡¯s lineage, passed down through generations. It is not a mere trinket to be given away to a stranger. Such artifacts choose their bearer¡­ and they do not part from their keepers lightly.¡± Malick nodded, his booze-soaked brain scrambling for a solution. He¡¯d read plenty of novels, and in situations like this, the protagonist usually had to do a quest or¡­ something¡­ to get the magic thing. ¡°Is there¡ªhic!¡ªsomethin¡¯ I gotta do? Like, uh¡­ a task¡­ or a mission¡­ or like¡­ does yer fam¡¯ly need help with¡­ somethin¡¯?¡± he slurred, blinking hard as the room tilted slightly to the left. The old man¡¯s eyebrows lifted in surprise. ¡°Ahhh¡­ benefactor, you truly understand! You have the heart of a hero.¡± He sighed deeply. ¡°In fact, there is something. Our store is being forced to move by an unscrupulous landlord who wants the building back. If we could afford to pay this month¡¯s rent, we could tide over these troubles.¡± Malick straightened his shoulders, doing his best to look competent despite the tequila doing its best to sabotage him. ¡°I can def¡¯nitely help with that!¡± he declared, though the word definitely put up a solid fight on its way out of his mouth. Still, his words were sincere, brimming with the kind of drunken conviction usually reserved for statements like ¡°You ¡®n¡¯ me are best friends forever!¡± or ¡°Watch this¡ªit¡¯s gonna be awesome!¡±¡ªright before something went horribly, horribly wrong. The old man slowly rubbed his hands together, his gaze heavy with unspoken weight. ¡°Ahhhh¡­ there is a way,¡± he murmured, his voice carrying the cadence of something ancient and inevitable. ¡°A sacrifice¡ªnot of blood, nor spirit, but of something equally binding.¡± He leaned forward, the flickering candlelight casting deep shadows across his lined face. ¡°If you can part with two thousand dollars¡­ the balance may yet be restored, and this place¡ªthis sacred space¡ªshall endure.¡± Malick flinched. ¡®Two thousand dollars?! That was a lot of money.¡¯ His brain, sluggish from alcohol, tried to do the math¡ªhow many drinks, burgers, or very questionable life choices that amount could cover¡ªbut ultimately, if it meant avoiding a lifetime of bad luck¡­ it was worth it. With the solemnity of a man making a grand sacrifice, he fumbled into his wallet and pulled out his Visex card, nearly dropping it in the process. ¡°H-here ya go, sir,¡± he slurred, presenting it with the exaggerated dignity of a knight offering his sword. BING! PURCHASE APPROVED. The old man¡¯s eyes gleamed, a knowing smile spreading across his weathered face. ¡°You are more than a mere customer¡­ you are a benefactor, a force sent by fate itself.¡± His voice carried an almost reverent tone, as if Malick¡¯s drunken offering had tipped some cosmic balance. He pressed his palms together, bowing slightly. ¡°Wait here. The heirloom cannot simply be taken¡ªit must be retrieved.¡± He turned toward the beaded curtain behind him. ¡°I shall send my grandson to fetch the bracelet.¡± The candles flickered as he spoke, the air growing thick with something Malick couldn¡¯t quite name¡ªwhether it was mysticism or just the lingering effects of tequila was anyone¡¯s guess. Turning to the back room, he called out in Chinese, ¡°Ëï×Ó£¡È¥ÄÃÎÒµÄÐÒÔËÊÖïí£¡ (Grandson! Go get me the lucky bracelet.)¡± A younger voice called back, ¡°Yes, Grandfather.¡± Five minutes later, a teenage boy emerged from the back, holding an old, dust-covered bracelet made of black leather, adorned with tiny charms. The old man took it carefully and handed it to Malick. ¡°Take this, benefactor. I believe your luck will change soon.¡± Malick held it in his hands for a moment before slipping it onto his wrist. He exhaled in relief. ¡°Thank you.¡± With that, he stepped out of the shop, the bracelet snug around his wrist, feeling¡ªfor the first time in his life¡ªthat maybe, just maybe, his fortune was about to turn around. *** After Malick left, the old man and his ¡°grandson¡± burst into a raucous celebration behind the counter, surrounded by mysterious trinkets and dusty relics. They cracked open a couple of cheap Tstungting beers¡ªbottles that fizzed as if they were just as excited as the two of them¡ªand lit up Marlbo cigarettes that burned with all the enthusiasm of a candle in a windstorm. ¡°I can¡¯t believe that a flashy banner and one of those Zbay bracelets got us a two-thousand-dollar windfall!¡± the grandson said, exclaiming with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. He took a long drag from his cigarette, watching the smoke swirl around his head like a makeshift halo. ¡°Hey! Don¡¯t forget my fantastic acting!¡± the old man retorted, waving his gnarled hands dramatically as if he were on the stage of some grand theater. His voice carried the same mix of pride and mischief that had charmed Malick moments before. Nearly toppling a precariously balanced vase in his excitement, he added, ¡°Without my Oscar-worthy performance, none of this would have happened!¡± The grandson snorted with laughter. ¡°Yeah, yeah, your performance was so Oscar-worthy it might have even given the local drama club a run for their money.¡± He paused, tapping the bottle as if toasting their newfound fortune. ¡°Honestly, who knew a banner and a bracelet could be worth more than a lifetime of bad luck?¡± They clinked their chipped beer bottles together in a toast. ¡°To banners, bracelets, and the miraculous art of creative hustling!¡± the old man declared with mock solemnity. ¡°May our future deals be as lucrative as this one!¡± Leaning back on a creaky stool, the grandson mused, ¡°You know, maybe we should order another batch of these ¡®lucky¡¯ bracelets. Imagine¡ªif we can pull off this scam constantly, we could make tons! The old man chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. ¡°I like the way you think, my boy. The world may never understand the subtle genius behind our methods, but they¡¯ll certainly never forget the legend of our little shop.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s pack up this junk, the drama club will want it back, and get out of here before he sobers up and wants a refund.¡± Outside, the city buzzed obliviously along, unaware that inside a cramped, dusty shop, two unlikely partners were plotting their next big score¡ªone where every banner, every bracelet, and every cheap beer would fuel their wildest, most improbable dreams. *** Chapter 4 Malick stumbled through his front door, the aftereffects of his wild night still clinging to him like a bad cologne. He barely managed to kick off his shoes before collapsing in a heap on his sagging couch. In no time at all, the darkness claimed him, and he passed out as if he¡¯d just won a medal for drunken endurance. When Malick finally stirred the next day, the first thing he registered was a pounding headache that made his skull feel like a percussion instrument. The room was thankfully dark. ¡®How long did I sleep for¡¯ he wondered. He looked at his phone. It was 7pm! He had slept for almost an entire twenty four hours! He looked at the empty beer cans and takeout boxes lay scattered around like evidence of a crime scene. He groaned, regretting his life choices. ¡®Ouch, my everything hurts,¡¯ he thought, grimacing as he tried to piece together the remnants of his memory from the night before. In his foggy state, Malick recalled all those system novels where characters leveled up or received quest notifications to fix their lives. ¡®Wouldn¡¯t it be awesome if this massive pain in his head and oversleeping was the result of a System merger, and not the after effects of too much tequila?¡¯ He imagined a digital overlay blinking into existence: ¡°System Notification: Hangover - Effect: Critical. Quest: Drink Water, Find Aspirin, and Survive the Day.¡± Unfortunately there was no such notification. Rising unsteadily from the couch, Malick shuffled toward his kitchen. Every step was a small victory over the remnants of last night¡¯s bender. As he opened the fridge, he half-hoping to see a blinking message urging him to hydrate. Instead, he was met with the sad sight of a few lonely bottles of water, a Grepsi Cola and a yawning reminder of his life¡¯s recent decisions. ¡®I¡¯ve read so many novels about Systems¡ªmaybe one day, I¡¯ll finally get lucky and unlock a ¡°Life Doesn¡¯t Suck bonus¡± or something,¡¯ he thought bitterly. But as he took a tentative sip of water, the nausea in his stomach assured him that no such bonus was coming. Reality was very much in control. With a resigned chuckle and a groan, Malick shuffled back to his bedroom. He¡¯d need all the help that he could muster to tackle the rest of the day remaining. For now, he decided he was just going to lie there, and hope the caffeine, aspirin and water took effect soon. Closing his eyes he was shocked to see a blue screen actually appearing in front of his eyes. [Congratulations to host for merging with the Luck System] LUCK SYSTEM: LEVEL 1 ( 0/100) Kinda Unlucky ¨C You step in a puddle right as you leave home, but at least it¡¯s just water. Probably. BAD LUCK POINTS (BP): 238 ACTION LOG: EXPAND? ITEM SHOP: LOCKED WHEEL OF FORTUNE: LOCKED STATS: EXPAND? SKILLS: EXPAND? INVENTORY: EXPAND? *** For a moment, he wasn¡¯t sure if he was still dreaming. He had literally been joking to himself about Systems, so maybe his overactive imagination had conjured one? He opened his eyes and squinted at the ceiling, staring at the System notification¡ªit looked exactly like the ones from the novels he constantly read. Propping himself up on one elbow, he peered around his cluttered apartment. Nothing looked surreal or glitchy enough to suggest he was still dreaming. The mess, the smell, the relentless throbbing in his head¡ªthese were all very real. ¡®Definitely not still sleeping,¡¯ he mused. *** He knew he wasn¡¯t dreaming, so had he gone insane? ¡®Oh well, if I¡¯ve gone insane, there¡¯s nothing I can do about it.¡¯ He refused to be one of those protagonists who whined for days about whether the System was real. If it was real, great. If not, well¡­ at least his delusions came with a user interface. ¡°Let¡¯s see what this System is all about,¡± he said out loud to himself, accepting his fate with the same nonchalant attitude people usually had when blindly clicking Accept Terms and Conditions without reading them¡ªnot that the System had actually shown him any. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Then, he looked at the screen again. LUCK SYSTEM: LEVEL 1 ( 0/100) Kinda Unlucky ¨C You step in a puddle right as you leave home, but at least it¡¯s just water. Probably. BAD LUCK POINTS (BP): 238 ACTION LOG: EXPAND? ITEM SHOP: LOCKED LUCKY DRAW : LOCKED STATS: EXPAND? SKILLS: EXPAND? INVENTORY: EXPAND? *** ¡®What¡¯s a Luck System? And why do I have Bad Luck points?¡¯ He wondered. [System Response] The luck system is based on luck. And Bad Luck points are the basis of it. ¡°That tells me nothing.¡± [System Response] You¡¯re lucky to even have a System, stop being lazy, do you know how busy I am. Explore it yourself. ¡°Eeep. Ok.¡± Malick said, definitely didn¡¯t want to piss off his brand new System. *** POV : Astral Universe ¡°We shouldn¡¯t have let Pride have the first turn to talk to him! I told you it was a bad idea. I should have been the first contact. And just so you all know, I¡¯ll be carefully checking the quota and turns!¡± said Envy, waving his skinny arms. ¡°¡°Oh, shughar, you gohhda knoh it wush random,¡± Gluttony said through a mouthful of food, words barely making it out between bites. CHOMP. CHOMP. Gluttony kept talking while devouring an entire pizza. Not a slice. The whole thing, held up with both hands as she tore into it like a starving beast. One slice in hand, while the other held the remaining pizza. Grease dripped down her arms, splattering onto the floor as she spoke around a mouthful of cheese and dough. ¡°We were lucky the Virchoos didn¡¯ geh firsh contac¡¯. Besidesh, Pride¡¯s only in control fer 24 Earth hoursh,¡± she mumbled through the layers of melted mozzarella, barely pausing before taking another massive bite. ¡°I¡¯m doing a great job! The best! Nobody could have done it better!¡± Pride responded arrogantly to the uncalled for criticism. *** POV: Calgary ¡®Ok, I¡¯ll explore it myself,¡¯ Malick thought. What¡¯s this action log? He mentally clicked it, half-expecting some grand revelation. Maybe a detailed history of his achievements? A record of every significant moment since he got the System? ACTION LOG 00:00 BP 254 01:00 BP 255 02:00 BP 256 . . . 07:00 BP 261 08:00 BP 262 Car broke down -7 09:00 BP 255 Got overcharged by greedy mechanic -3 10:00 BP 252 Girlfriend breaks up with you -4 11:00 BP 248 Drank expired beer -2 17:00 BP 246 Got overcharged for drinks -1 18:00 BP 245 Got beer spilled on you -1 Got car scratched by drunk driver -1 Ate expired food -2 Spilled tequila on yourself -2 19:00 BP 239 Stepped in puddle of urine in bar bathroom -2 20:00 BP 237 Ran into scammers -2 21:00 BP 235 22:00 BP 236 23:00 BP 237 24:00 BP 238 ¡­ Malick stared at the list and couldn¡¯t help but marvel at the sheer volume of bad luck that had apparently clung to him. Sure, he¡¯d always thought of himself as a bit unlucky, but with the events laid out in black and white, he realized he was, in fact, monumentally cursed. Clearly, he was justified in complaining about his bad luck. Some of the entries made his blood boil. ¡°Got overcharged by a mechanic? That fucker,¡± he fumed. ¡°I always thought he was a fair guy¡ªguess I was wrong.¡± Then there was the curious case of the scam. ¡°Getting scammed? Really?¡± he wondered aloud. He¡¯d been at the Chinese fortune shop, where the luck system and his shiny new bracelet had been given to him. ¡®So why, in the world, did his action log claim otherwise? Perhaps the action log wasn¡¯t 100% correct?¡¯ Other entries forced Malick to reflect on his drunken debauchery. How many expired beers had he gulped down, or how many atrocious nachos had he devoured? And, as if that wasn¡¯t enough, the final nail in yesterday¡¯s coffin: ¡°Stepped in a puddle of urine.¡± Gross doesn¡¯t even begin to cover it. ¡®I¡¯m starting to think my life is one giant cosmic prank,¡¯ he mused, half amused and half exasperated. ¡®If only there were a ¡°Re-roll Luck¡± option in my System menu¡­¡¯ He looked for it. There was no such option. With a bitter chuckle and a shake of his head, Malick realized that sometimes, the universe just loves to mess with you¡ªand his action log was the most damning proof of that. *** Chapter 5 It looked like the action log might be an interesting daily ritual for Malick, but there was no need to keep it open 24/7. The endless list of minuses and pluses wasn¡¯t exactly a confidence booster. In fact, watching his bad luck points tick up by one every hour convinced him that his misfortune was on a relentless upward escalator. With a resigned sigh, he shut down the action log and turned his attention to the next section: his stats. ¡°Ok, I can¡¯t wait to see what my stats look like,¡± he thought, equal parts curious and terrified. STATS 1 is the gold standard of mediocrity¡ªthe perfect representation of an average human male. At this level, you¡¯re not impressing anyone, but you¡¯re also not embarrassing yourself (too much). Anything above 1 means you¡¯re actually good at something¡ªmaybe even impressive. Anything below 1? Well¡­ congratulations, you¡¯ve entered the struggle zone. Hope you enjoy losing arm-wrestling matches to children, tripping over flat surfaces, and making life choices that would make a reality show producer weep with joy. Strength (Str): 1.07 Measures physical power and muscle mass. Influences melee attack damage, carrying capacity, and those random feats of strength¡ªlike opening stubborn pickle jars or hauling your ex girlfriend¡¯s stuff out of the apartment. Intelligence (Int): 1.15 Reflects cognitive abilities, problem-solving skills, and general know-how. It affects how quickly you learn from mistakes (if you ever does) and even how well you remember which bar has the best half-off shots. Charisma (Cha): 0.95 Indicates personal magnetism, social skills, and leadership qualities. Unfortunately, this score suggests that your charm might be a bit underwhelming¡ªprobably a side effect of your awkward encounters and general lack of game. Health (HP): .099 Represents overall physical well-being and vitality. It¡¯s your buffer against illness, injuries, and those hangovers that feel like the universe is personally punishing him. Dexterity (Dex): 1.05 Denotes agility, reflexes, and hand-eye coordination. Essential when dodging life¡¯s curveballs¡ªor when trying desperately to catch a drink before it spills on you again. Wisdom (Wis): 1.10 Reflects common sense, perception, and intuition. While it may seem surprising given your frequent mishaps, this stat suggests you do have some insight¡ªif only you could use it to avoid stepping in bar urine puddles. Constitution (Con): 1.02 Measures stamina, overall health, and physical resilience. It represents your ability to absorb punishment¡ªboth physical and emotional¡ªand keep trudging along. Endurance (End): 1.05 Indicates stamina and the ability to sustain prolonged activity, whether that¡¯s a marathon binge-watch session or enduring an endless string of misfortunes. Perception (Per): 1.08 Shows your awareness of the environment and sensitivity to subtle details. This stat comes in handy for spotting hidden dangers¡ªor for noticing the empty beer cans scattered around after a wild night out. *** Malick couldn¡¯t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Sure, his bad luck was steadily climbing like a runaway roller coaster, but at least he had a clear numerical snapshot. If only he could somehow invest a few extra points in charisma or intelligence, maybe things would finally start looking up. Until then, he¡¯d just have to live with the score¡ªand occasionally dream of a System update that might grant him a ¡°Reroll Luck¡± option. Still, looking at the score, he was kind of pissed. ¡°Come on, is my charisma really that low?¡± he grumbled, staring at the digits as if they were personally insulting him. Obviously, nobody likes being told they¡¯re below average¡ªespecially when it¡¯s laid out in black and white for all to see. But that¡¯s just how averages work, isn¡¯t it? Somebody¡¯s got to be below it, and Malick was clearly holding that dubious honor. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. He scoffed at his reflection on the matter. ¡°If charm were currency, I¡¯d be bankrupt,¡± he mused. Maybe it was time to invest in a charisma potion or enroll in a crash course on ¡®How to Be Charming and Win Friends.¡¯ After all, in a world where even a malfunctioning chatbot might score higher on the charm scale, Malick¡¯s deficiencies were almost laughable. He imagined a future update to his stat sheet¡ªa shiny new patch that might bump his charisma up by a few points. Until then, though, he¡¯d have to endure the awkward stares, the misinterpreted jokes, and the general lack of sparkle in his social interactions. With a bitter chuckle and a shake of his head, Malick accepted that while being below average in charisma wasn¡¯t the end of the world-still it kinda sucked. *** He decided, ¡°Alright, sure, my stats aren¡¯t that great, but I must have some pretty awesome skills, right?¡± With that thought, he hit the expand button and checked out his skills list: SKILLS Board Games: Good Because every master strategist knows that dominating a round of Settlers of Calgary is the first step toward world domination¡ªor at least a fun night with friends. Alcohol Tolerance: Above Average An essential skill for surviving your own misadventures. After all, if you can¡¯t hold your liquor, how are you supposed to keep your head together the next morning? Firearms: Above Average Not to be confused with your ability to fire off sarcastic comments. When it comes to actual shooting, your aim is almost as sharp as your wit¡ªalmost. Tactics & Strategy: Excellent Whether you¡¯re plotting your next bar crawl or orchestrating a full-scale escape from a karaoke disaster, your mind is a well-oiled machine. On good days, at least. Hand-to-Hand Combat: Good Better than average, even if you¡¯d rather settle disputes with a well-timed quip than a fistfight. Still, when push comes to shove, you can throw a punch¡ªor at least deliver a mildly inconvenient tap. Survival Skills: Above Average You can thrive in the wild with nothing but a can of expired beer and a questionable map, proving that sometimes, sheer stubbornness beats common sense. Computers & Hacking: Decent (Self-Taught) The digital realm is your playground, even if your hacking skills sometimes resemble frantic button-mashing more than calculated genius. Explosives Handling: Average (Knows just enough to be dangerous) You¡¯ve got that delicate balance down¡ªenough knowledge to handle a stick of dynamite without turning it into a one-man fireworks show. Usually. Historical Knowledge (Military): Excellent When someone brings up military history, you can wax poetic with the fervor of a drill sergeant¡ªeven if your own life battles usually end with ordering takeout. Pop Culture Trivia: Exceptional From 90s sitcoms to cult classic movies, your brain is a vault of obscure facts that never fail to impress¡ªor bewilder¡ªthe people around you. Sarcasm: Master Level This is your true superpower. With a razor-sharp tongue and a quip always at the ready, you can defuse any awkward moment or just leave people scratching their heads. Piloting (Drones): Good You can maneuver a drone like a pro¡ªassuming the drone isn¡¯t as confused as your life sometimes appears. Piloting (Vehicles): Average You get from point A to point B without too many mishaps, though a few fender benders here and there do little to boost your reputation. Cooking (Rations & Campfire Meals): Above Average In the wilderness, your campfire cooking skills are surprisingly competent. Who knew that gourmet meals could be whipped up with duct tape and determination? Improvisation: Excellent (Can MacGyver a solution out of duct tape and sheer willpower) When life throws you a curveball, you¡¯re ready with a roll of duct tape and a wild idea, turning potential disasters into mildly amusing escapades. Weapon Maintenance: Above Average You keep your gear in decent shape¡ªpartly because replacing it is a pain, and partly because you¡¯ve learned that neglect usually leads to unexpected explosions. Gaming (FPS & Strategy): Exceptional (Claims it¡¯s ¡°training¡±) In the virtual world, you¡¯re a force to be reckoned with. You insist that every match is just ¡°training for real life,¡± even if your real-life battles are more about dodging spilled beer than taking down enemies. Memorizing Obscure Facts: Excellent Whether it¡¯s trivia about ancient civilizations or the plot twists of a cult classic movie, your memory for the random and obscure is nothing short of impressive. *** He couldn¡¯t help but be happy about the list of skills. Unlike the stat sheet¡ªwhich served as a brutal reminder of every screw-up and misfortune¡ªthe skills list featured only the things he did above average. He was pretty chuffed to see that he possessed some genuinely useful talents. ¡°I guess my time in the military before I left really helped me out,¡± he thought with a half-smile, even as his head pounded with the remnants of last night¡¯s misadventures. He even found himself wondering what his life might have been like if he hadn¡¯t been so unlucky and had stayed in the military¡ªmaybe he¡¯d be a decorated hero instead of a serial breakfast skipper. But that was a thought for another time. There was plenty to ponder about these skills, yet at that moment the most important question was what to eat. Sure, he had a massive hangover and really didn¡¯t want to leave his house, but he knew that a big, greasy breakfast might be just the power-up he needed. The idea of a plate piled high with bacon, eggs, and all the fixings practically danced before his eyes. ¡°Musttttt get food,¡± he muttered, half in despair and half in desperate hope that a hearty meal would rescue him from his current hungover state. At least there was the discovery of the System¡ªa digital interface that had kick-started his brain, making the hangover and nausea seem to almost fade into the background. In that moment, even as the world spun around him, the promise of leveling up (and a delicious breakfast) was too enticing to ignore. Chapter 6 He grabbed his keys, shoved on his shoes (one of them was suspiciously damp, but he chose not to investigate), and walked out the door. There was a greasy spoon he liked just around the corner, the kind of place where the floors were always just a little too sticky, and the waitresses called you ¡°hon¡± whether they liked you or not. The best thing? It was open 24/7 and always served breakfast, no matter the time of day. His go-to order? The legendary ChumbaBumba ¡ªnamed because it was perfect for when you got knocked down and needed to get up again. Two eggs (cooked however the chef felt like making them that day), greasy sausages that probably defied health regulations, crispy bacon that was at least 60% salt, pancakes big enough to be used as flotation devices, and hash browns¡ªthe good kind, the little patties, not those chaotic diced ones that always tasted like disappointment. Best of all? Unlimited coffee. All of it for just twelve bucks, which, in his opinion, made this place a temple of divinity. For him, this was heaven. A place of healing. A shrine dedicated to the sacred art of curing hangovers through sheer caloric force. And, more importantly, the perfect spot to sit down and figure out what the hell this System was all about. *** Sitting down at a booth and waiting for his breakfast to arrive, Malick let out a long, slow sigh. His body still felt like it had been hit by a truck, then backed over for good measure. But the promise of food and coffee was enough to keep him conscious. His first coffee couldn¡¯t come soon enough. When it finally arrived, he wasted no time drowning it in sugar and creamer, using at least five of those tiny plastic cups like a man on the verge of collapse. A testament to how desperate he was to banish his hangover. ¡®All right, I¡¯ve explored the stat sheet and the skills list, even though I think it¡¯s not 100% accurate. Seriously below average charisma? Let¡¯s see what else is there?¡¯ He scrolled through the System menu until something caught his eye. ¡®Ooh, look, inventory.¡¯ He mentally tapped the button, half-expecting to find a treasure trove of hidden riches. Maybe some secret rewards for surviving terrible life choices? Nope. The inventory was about as barren as his fridge. In fact, there was only one thing listed. Item: Bad Luck Bracelet ¡®Ah, yes,¡¯ he muttered, glancing down at the bracelet on his wrist. ¡®This bad boy¡¯s gonna change my life.¡¯ What he didn¡¯t realize was that the bracelet itself was about as special as a gas station scratch-off ticket. It was the Seven Sins and Virtues that had blessed it, turning it into something worth having. Without them, it was just another cheap trinket that probably wouldn¡¯t even fetch five bucks on Zbay. But hey, it didn¡¯t matter. He had the bracelet. He had the System. And life was about to get seriously better. And speaking of life getting better¡ªhis breakfast had arrived. A glorious, heart-clogging masterpiece. The ChumbaBumba sat before him, steaming and golden, practically waving at him with its greasy goodness. Two perfect eggs, glistening bacon, fat sausages, crispy hash brown patties¡ªnot that weak diced-up stuff¡ªand a stack of pancakes ready to be drowned in syrup. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Malick grinned, grabbing his fork. ¡®System or no System, THIS is a blessing.¡¯ *** As he started to work his way through the ChumbaBumba, he couldn¡¯t help but reflect on his current plans and lifestyle. The job interview he was supposed to attend yesterday was clearly a non-starter. If you had the choice between someone who shows up on time and someone who doesn¡¯t arrive, there¡¯s simply no contest¡ªyou wouldn¡¯t choose the absentee interviewee. And, honestly, it wasn¡¯t like he boasted any particularly impressive skills for the role. The job was at a security company that valued military experience, but come on¡ªhow useful was wildlife survival in an urban security gig? Sure, he could survive a bear attack in the wild, but navigating office politics and unlocking a door with a keycard were a completely different skill set. He found himself reminiscing about his time in the military. Part of him wished he hadn¡¯t washed out, but after completing the bare minimum of mandatory service, he had to admit that a life in uniform was fraught with danger¡ªespecially for someone as notoriously accident-prone as he was. His chronic bad luck seemed to affect everything, including his ability to handle firearms with any semblance of competence. One incident in particular stood out in his memory. There he was, marching proudly on parade, when suddenly he noticed something utterly absurd¡ªa banana peel on the floor. ¡°Seriously?¡± he thought. Before he could even process his disbelief, KERSPLAT, he slipped, sending himself sprawling in a spectacular display of unintended acrobatics. In one fell comedic moment, he took down half of his squad, turning what was meant to be a dignified march into a full-blown slapstick routine. Of course, the incident had its own viral afterlife. It was still on ViewTube under the title ¡°You Won¡¯t Believe What Happens During This Parade!¡± with the hashtag #CanadianMilitaryFail trending among military mishap compilations. Every time he thought about it, he couldn¡¯t help but laugh bitterly¡ªif only to remind himself that sometimes his life felt like a never-ending blooper reel. But now he knew it was all because of bad luck and wasn¡¯t his fault personally. As he chewed through his breakfast, the greasy goodness of the meal somehow made all these reflections a little more bearable. Despite the setbacks, he couldn¡¯t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, his life was an adventure in the making¡ªeven if it was previously filled with banana peels and missed opportunities. But still he had to find a job or some way to make some cash. Maybe the System could help? *** Just when he was thinking about how he could use the System to score some extra cash, a prompt suddenly appeared in his vision. The words blinked onto the screen in bold, neon letters, as if the universe itself had decided to give him a little nudge¡ªan opportunity, or perhaps a challenge. [System Task] Change your name from Malick to something luckier. You can only change 1 letter. Reward to be determined based on completion speed. For a moment, he blinked in disbelief. Was the system really offering him a way to line his pockets? The System had been curt, and arrogant yesterday, so he didn¡¯t trust it completely. He rubbed his eyes, half-expecting the prompt to vanish like a hangover after a hearty breakfast. But there it was, persistent and glowing with promise. ¡°Ah, so that¡¯s how it¡¯s gonna work,¡± he muttered to himself, a wry smile tugging at his lips. ¡°When life gives you lemons, apparently the System offers you a task for making lemonade stands.¡± His mind raced with possibilities. Could this be his chance to finally balance out the cosmic scales of bad luck? With the lingering taste of greasy breakfast and a head still recovering from the previous night¡¯s bad choices, he felt a surge of determination. Maybe this was the universe¡ªor his System¡ªsaying, ¡°Hey, here¡¯s a way to cash in on your misfortune. Prove you deserve it!¡± With a deep, resolute breath and a renewed sense of purpose, he accepted the task. The System had given him a chance to prove that even a guy like him could turn his luck around. And as he set off to complete his first task, he couldn¡¯t help but chuckle at the awesomeness of it all. Chapter 7 He stared at the System task, his heart pounding as if it were the final boss in an arcade game. ¡°Alright, sure¡ªmy stats may not be stellar, but I could use a luckier name,¡± he said, though his mind was a swirling mess of doubts and half-baked ideas. At first, he toyed with the idea of simply adopting ¡°Lucky.¡± But that sounded like a name for a carnival barker, not someone who¡¯d spent his life dodging banana peels and mishaps. ¡°Luckzor¡± flitted briefly through his mind next¡ªtoo over-the-top, like something a comic book villain would choose. And ¡°El Lucko¡±? That was downright absurd, evoking images of a cheesy Mexican wrestling reject. The System had given him a strict limitation: only one letter could change. One letter! It felt like being handed a single puzzle piece and told to reassemble your entire identity. He tapped his fingers on the desk, his gaze fixed on his current name: Malick. ¡°I can only change one letter, huh?¡± he murmured, almost in disbelief. Every option he considered seemed to mock him with its inadequacy. His internal debate grew heated¡ªa battle of irony and self-doubt. Was it possible that a single letter could salvage his legacy of misfortune? Malick stared at his name on the screen, rubbing his chin. If luck was the issue, maybe a little rebranding was in order. He could only change one letter, so he had to make it count. ¡°Alright¡­ let¡¯s tweak this.¡± Malik? Dropping the C made it look cleaner, but did it actually do anything? It just felt like his name had been autocorrected. Malickk? Too many K¡¯s. Now it looked like an internet username from middle school. Malich? He tilted his head. Was this supposed to sound mysterious? Was he now an undead wizard? Malixk? Ugh. Now it just felt like he was trying too hard to be edgy. Malack? No, that just looked like an old-timey insult. ¡°Thou art a Malack!¡± Malock? Now he sounded like a cheesy 80¡¯s detective . Malisk? That sounded like a mister that could petrify you with it¡¯s stare Malicko? Nope, now he was just an off-brand Italian soda. ¡°Drink a Malicko¡­ eeets a deeeliccouso!¡± Alright, maybe the issue wasn¡¯t the last few letters. What if he changed the M? Balick? Now he just sounded like a medieval knight. ¡°Balick the Brave went out to save the Princess, hope in his heart¡­onwards my steed!¡± Galick? Wait¡­ wasn¡¯t that a seasoning? Palick? Ugh. Now it sounded like he was some weird fusion of a friend (pal) and his own name. Talick? That one actually almost worked. It had a kind of rogue-ish charm¡ªthen he realized it sounded like a prescription drug. Halick? No. Just no. It looked like he was trying to cosplay as some long-lost Norse god. Zalick? Now he sounded like a futuristic DJ. He groaned, slumping back. Maybe the System was just screwing with him. Finallyyyyy though¡­.. ¡°Maluck,¡± he whispered, the word tasting bittersweet on his tongue. Could swapping an ¡°I¡± for a ¡°U¡± really signal a fresh start? It was as if that one letter encapsulated every failure and every hopeful dream of turning his luck around. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. With a shaky exhale and trembling fingers, he reached for the confirm button. The screen blinked in response, sealing his decision. It wasn¡¯t just a name change; it was a small act of rebellion against the relentless parade of bad luck that had defined him for so long. And though the road ahead remained as unpredictable as ever, for the first time in a long while, he felt a spark of hope¡ªand maybe, just maybe, a little bit of luck. *** After he hit the confirm button, he was taken aback. ¡°Isn¡¯t there supposed to be a prize or bonus or something?¡± he wondered aloud. Instead of confetti or bonus multipliers, the screen simply confirmed the change. His name was now Maluck¡ªa single, decisive letter swap that promised a hint of fortune amid his long streak of misadventures. Biting his lip in disbelief, he addressed the System. ¡°System, I¡¯ve changed my name. Why isn¡¯t the task complete?¡± Almost immediately, a response lit up his vision in a pleasantly conversational tone: The curt, arrogant tone had given way to a kinder, more empathetic voice. [System Response] Ah, Host, it¡¯s nice to chat with you. Of course, you¡¯ve changed your name in the System, but you need to do it legally on Earth. That won¡¯t be easy, but rest assured, the System will register your name change as completed as long as you start the process. No need to wait for actual paperwork. You¡¯re doing great! Maluck let out a half-chuckle. ¡°Thank you, System, for the clear and kind response. You¡¯re so much better than when I talked to you earlier.¡± [System Response] It takes time for the System to fully merge with a host, and sometimes communication isn¡¯t as smooth as it could be. I know it can be frustrating, but please remember, you¡¯re not alone in this. We¡¯re figuring it out together, step by step, and I¡¯ll do my best to support you as we go. Unbeknownst to him, a day had passed since his initial interaction, and the System¡¯s controller had changed. Pride had stepped aside, replaced by Kindness¡ªinfusing every message with surprising warmth. Part of what made Pride so pissy? His turn as controller on the first day after blessing the bracelet was spent watching Malick sleep. ¡°Thanks, System,¡± Maluck mused. ¡°Now I just need to brave the wild world of Earth bureaucracy. Wish me luck.¡± [System Response] Good luck! You can do it! I believe in you! ¡°Alright, how do I go about legally changing my name on Earth?¡± He started a SkewesSearch, scrolling through instructions for changing his name in Alberta. First, he checked the eligibility¡ª18 or older, check. Resident for 3 months, check. Proof of Canadian citizenship, check. Next, he saw he¡¯d need to fill out some forms, gather a bunch of documents, and, for some reason, get a criminal record check¡ªbecause apparently the government wanted to make sure he wasn¡¯t trying to outrun a shady past. The cherry on top was the fees¡ªabout $120, plus a few extra charges for fingerprints and registry services. After that, he¡¯d submit everything, wait 6 to 8 weeks, and boom, a new name and a mountain of paperwork to prove it. ¡®At least,¡¯ he thought, it will be worth it.¡¯ With a determined nod and a resigned sigh, Maluck accepted the challenge. The System task might not have showered him with instant cash or flashy bonuses, but it had set him on a new path¡ªa path toward legally becoming ¡°Maluck¡±, a name that was both a nod to his past misadventures and a hopeful promise for a brighter, if paperwork-laden, future. *** After paying his bill, he headed out of the diner and made his way to the local registry. Luckily, this wasn¡¯t a government office with 9-to-5 hours. Registries in Alberta were private and could set their own hours. The idea of a legal name change felt like embarking on an epic quest¡ªone that involved more paperwork than a tax audit but promised to transform his life, at least on paper. Walking into the registry in Edmonton, Alberta, he recalled all the horror stories he¡¯d heard about the DMV in America. In Canada, however, things were relatively simple¡ªespecially at reputable spots like Ellerslie Registry, which boasted quick and efficient service. With his paperwork neatly bundled, he handed everything over to the registry agent. He couldn¡¯t help but feel as though he were handing in his old ¡°Malick¡± identity for a total upgrade¡ªlike trading in a rusty clunker for a sleek, brand-new ride. Though the bureaucratic process might have been tedious, in his mind it was a crucial first step toward transforming his luck¡ªand his entire life. If approved, he¡¯d soon receive a Certificate of Name Change¡ªofficial proof that his new identity, Maluck, was set in stone. Then came the fun part: updating his driver¡¯s license, health card, SIN, passport¡­ basically every piece of identification that declared his existence to the world. As he sat in the waiting area, flipping through a magazine and wondering if the processing time of 6¨C8 weeks felt like an eternity or just enough time to plan his next misadventure. Here he was, a guy whose life had been defined by hangovers, car breakdowns, and viral parade fails, now trying to change his stars with one simple letter. After this paperwork, he would emerge as Maluck¡ªan identity that promised to attract better fortune, or at least, a new chapter filled with more quirky adventures. And for now, with the scent of freshly printed documents mingling with the lingering aroma of greasy breakfast, Maluck felt like he was finally taking control of his destiny, one bureaucratic step at a time. Chapter 8 When he finally received his receipt from the registry¡ªproof that his paperwork had been accepted¡ªhe discovered he¡¯d gotten more than a simple paper slip. He had received a System response. [System Task Accomplished] 3 lucky draws approved. Great job! He couldn¡¯t wait to leave the sterile confines of the registry; it would have been far too weird to sit around after finishing his business. Instead, he strolled back to the Greasy Spoon (best name for a diner ever), and slid into his favorite booth with a steaming cup of coffee. He had deliberately avoided returning to his apartment, convinced that doing so would be like hitting the pause button on his life¡ªa button he was absolutely not ready to press. The hangover was now nothing more than a distant, unpleasant memory, cured by the legendary Chumbabumba breakfast and the thrill of nailing his first System task. As he scanned his digital inventory and saw the three lucky draws, he couldn¡¯t help but frown in contemplation. ¡°System, are these lucky draws influenced by my actual luck?¡± he inquired, remembering that he¡¯d never won anything in a lucky draw before. In fact, his poor track record with freebies was precisely why he had ditched Koala Kola in favor of Grepsi Cola. Every time he bought a Koala Kola, the tab would reveal a disheartening ¡°sorry, try again¡± message. Who would want a soda that made you feel like a loser every single time? Definitely not him. [System Response] No, Host. The Wheel of Fortune is completely neutral, please believe me when I say that no amount of good luck or bad luck can sway it. It¡¯s designed to be fair, and I can imagine how stressful that must be. But know that this is just one part of your journey, and you¡¯re not alone in this. Whatever the outcome, you¡¯ll have the strength to keep moving forward. ¡°Okay¡­..,¡± he said, his excitement building. This was the first time in his life that he might actually enter a random draw with the possibility of winning something! He mentally declared, ¡°Spin Wheel of Fortune!¡± Immediately, a spinning wheel appeared in his mind, resplendent with a dazzling array of prizes. The number 3¡ªrepresenting his 3 chances¡ªglowed proudly at the center of the wheel. As it spun, he imagined all the cool prizes he might win: an all-expenses-paid getaway, a cutting-edge gadget, maybe even a mysterious glittering artifact that promised untold power. Maluck leaned forward eagerly, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. Today was his chance to finally break free from his cycle of misfortune¡ªone spin at a time. *** He hit ¡°spin¡± on the wheel, and it spun wildly, whirring around as if it were caught in a tornado of fate. Eventually, it slowed and stopped¡ªonly to land on the phrase he had seen more times in his life than he cared to admit, a phrase he absolutely hated: ¡°Sorry, try again.¡± ¡°What the hell?!¡± he yelled, throwing his hands up in frustration. ¡®Wasn¡¯t this supposed to be a neutral luck area?¡¯ He had expected his first draw¡ªgiven all its epic promises¡ªto actually win something. But he had forgotten that neutrality didn¡¯t guarantee a win. ¡°Fuck,¡± he muttered under his breath, and without wasting a second, he hit ¡°spin¡± again. This time, fortune favored him. The wheel came to rest on a prize: The Fortune Tuner¡ªa strange, mechanical device designed to adjust luck, transforming bad luck into good luck. ¡°Oooh, this is awesome!¡± he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up as he imagined finally turning his string of misfortunes around. ¡°All right, one more spin to go,¡± he thought, mentally steeling himself for the next round. He scanned the prize wheel, which was filled with an eclectic mix of items. Some slots had ¡°Sorry try Again¡±, while others¡ªlike a tantalizing array of gadget names¡ªhad no explanation at all, yet they all looked downright awesome. Names like The Whispering Coin, The Clover Compass and Probability Charm all enticed him like a siren for sailors. Even the less glamorous filler slots promised rewards like ¡°10 Luck Points,¡± which, though modest, still managed to put a smile onto his face. Maluck chuckled at the awesomeness of it all. The idea that a digital spinning wheel could potentially reverse his life¡¯s notorious luck was, in its own badass way, a miracle. As he sat there, sipping his coffee and gazing at the glowing wheel, he felt like a kid in a candy store¡ªif that candy store were run by a mischievous universe determined to give him one hell of a second chance. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. *** His third spin slowly began to decelerate. The wheel wavered tantalizingly between awarding an item and granting four luck points. ¡°Come on, item. Come on, item,¡± he muttered, practically holding his breath. He had been desperately hoping for another piece of luck gear in his inventory¡ªand it was so close. With a series of rhythmic clicks, CLICK, CLICK, CLICK, the wheel finally ground to a halt. His heart leaped as the pointer landed squarely on an item. A burst of excitement surged through him as the prize was revealed: The Probability Charm ¨C While wearing it, any event you want to happen gets a 10% boost in probability. Stacks with other Luck items. The charm itself, attached to the Bad Luck bracelet, in the form of a little silver balance. He couldn¡¯t help but laugh at the awesomeness of it all. A 10% boost might not sound like much, but in a life governed by unpredictable misfortune, every little percentage point was like a secret weapon. Now, with the Probability Charm in his possession, he imagined himself as a sort of universal casino pit boss ¡ªonly instead of controlling slot machines, he was tweaking the odds of fate itself. In his world, where banana peels and spilled coffee were daily occurrences, this charm was nothing short of miraculous. *** ¡°Okay, calm down,¡± he whispered to himself. ¡°This Probability Charm is awesome, but what about the Fortune Tuner? Can it really turn all my bad luck into good luck?¡± He glanced at his current Bad Luck Points (BP): 238. The number stared back at him like an unrelenting reminder of every mishap and misadventure. Imagining that 238 BP turning into 238 points of good luck¡ªsomething he¡¯d never known before, his smile was huge. That would be absolutely epic. He¡¯d never have bad luck again! He studied the Fortune Tuner¡¯s description more closely, only to realize that it was a one-time use item. ¡°Fuck,¡± he muttered under his breath. Should he use it now to convert his 238 points of bad luck? After all, he was generating one point of bad luck per hour¡ªroughly ten days¡¯ worth of calamity! The temptation was irresistible though. ¡°Fuck it,¡± he thought, ¡°I¡¯ve never had a day without misfortune. If I¡¯ve got one chance to turn this around, I¡¯m taking it right now!¡± He had read so many novels where the protagonist saved up all of his points for some mysterious emergency. In his mind, that was downright nuts. ¡®Why wouldn¡¯t you use your points right away¡ªto get stronger, smarter, or to unlock that new, awesome ¡°Tao of Butt-Kicking¡±?¡¯ In his opinion, hoarding points was just the author¡¯s clever way of keeping a deus ex machina in reserve, ready to bail out the story when it inevitably got stuck in a plot hole. He imagined a hero sitting there, stuck in a completely unfixable problem, who had meticulously saved every single point like a squirrel hoarding acorns for winter, only to pull out a secret power-up at the last minute. For the win. ¡°Ahhhhhh ha! You might have me on the ropes, but I will now spend my points for 357 strength gains! And also, buy the knowledge of the Red Dragon Palm Strike!¡± ¡°Really?¡± he thought, shaking his head. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be more fun¡ªand a heck of a lot more useful¡ªto use those points to level up immediately, blast through challenges, and show off your new abilities as you go?¡± He decided in his own journey, Maluck (Even though everyone he knew still knew him as Malick) would use every point as a chance to kick life¡¯s misfortunes right in the teeth. He scoffed at the idea of playing it safe by saving up points when he could be out there, becoming the hero of his own adventure. After all, if the author needed a last-minute save, it was usually because the plot was taking a nosedive¡ªsomething Maluck was determined never to let happen in his life. With his heart pounding, he addressed the System. ¡°System, use the Fortune Tuner!¡± [System Response] Great choice! This is the perfect moment to make a big move, and I believe in your ability to handle whatever comes next. You¡¯ve earned this chance, and glad you¡¯re making the most of it. Good job taking that leap¡ªyou¡¯ve got this! In an instant, the digital interface sprang to life. The System worked its magic, and with a series of cheerful beeps and twinkling blinks, it converted his 238 Bad Luck Points by halving them into Luck Points. Maluck hadn¡¯t even realized that this wasn¡¯t a straight 1:1 conversion¡ªthe Fortune Tuner actually operated on a 2:1 ratio. For every two Bad Luck points, he gained one point of pure, unadulterated luck. The effect was immediate, as if a tidal wave of fortune had crashed over him, washing away years of mishap and leaving behind a refreshing surge of optimism. In that electrifying moment, Maluck felt almost invincible¡ªgiddy with the realization that even his worst luck could be twisted into something beneficial. It was as if the universe had finally decided to cut him a break. Maluck grinned from ear to ear. That once-dreadful number, 238 BP, had just become 119 LP. A symbol that perhaps, after all his years of shit luck, his life was finally turning around. As he sat there, a mix of disbelief and laughter bubbling within him, he mused, ¡°Maybe, just maybe, my life is really about to change.¡± Chapter 9 POV : Astral Universe In the shimmering expanse of the Astral Universe, seven ethereal voices gathered around a floating cosmic ledger, their conversation blending into a gentle hum of hope and skepticism. They were the 7 Kindly Virtues and they had taken over for the day. One voice, warm and tender, spoke first: ¡°Sister, you¡¯ve done such a magnificent job guiding him. Despite his battered spirit, his heart shines with an unyielding purity.¡± She replied, ¡°Thank you, dear sister; I truly believe his journey is divinely guided. Even if his path is rugged, destiny unfolds exactly as it should.¡± Then came a robust, steady voice full of determination: ¡°He conquers every obstacle, turning each misstep into a battle fought with remarkable courage. It¡¯s clear why we chose him as our champion!¡± This was Diligence chiming in. She loved hard workers and Maluck had been doing such a great job, ever since he received the System! A measured, thoughtful interjection followed, ¡°Yet, I cannot help but wonder¡ªwhy did the Seven Sins allow him to be picked? Despite his virtues, his past is riddled with calamities that seem at odds with our ideals.¡± Another Virtue chimed in, ¡°Ah, but you know those Sins¡ªthey¡¯re like dim bulbs in a vast cosmic chandelier, their choices driven more by the need to keep the narrative delightfully unpredictable than by any sense of merit.¡± ¡°We must remember, however, that even their chaotic influence ensures that the scales of fate never tip too far in one direction.¡± Temperance said. ¡°Oh, how my heart sings at the thought of his future! I trust he will persist in his crusade, and that tomorrow¡ªwhen the Sins take their turn¡ªhis light will shine ever brighter.¡± Their voices mingled like a celestial symphony, each note reflecting compassion, confidence, determination, fairness, caution, moderation, and hope. In that moment, amid the silent rhythms of the Astral Universe, they celebrated not only his past triumphs but the upcoming journey that would make him their acknowledged champion. *** POV : Canada Maluck was feeling buoyed by his recent streak of good fortune, so he decided to pay a visit to the Chinese shop he credited with his miraculous bracelet. ¡®Surely,¡¯ he thought, ¡®the Action Log must have made an error¡ªthe shop hadn¡¯t scammed him; the Bad Luck Bracelet was amazing.¡¯ This decision to go thank them had nothing at all to do with the System Task that had just popped up. [System Task] Go thank your benefactors. You really should always thank people. Grateful actions spark joy in the universe. Reward: Three luck points. It was a pretty easy task, considering the shop was only a block away. However, when he arrived, he was met with an empty storefront bearing a faded ¡°For Rent¡± sign that practically whispered, ¡°We¡¯re gone.¡± Undeterred, he wandered over to the neighboring shop and asked the store owner, ¡°Do you know where these guys went?¡± He gestured toward the closed store. The owner glanced at Maluck¡¯s cheap-looking bracelet and said, ¡°Looking for a refund, are you? I heard they moved to Calgary.¡± ¡°Why would I need a refund? This bracelet is awesome!¡± Maluck retorted. ¡°Uh, okay,¡± said the shop owner, who had been fielding angry customers from those two before; this was the first guy who¡¯d been grateful. He thought to himself, ¡®Whatever, it¡¯s none of my business.¡¯ ¡°Calgary? That¡¯s like three hours away,¡± Maluck remarked. For some people, a three-hour drive might seem daunting, but it was worth it to him. After all, the Bad Luck bracelet had changed his life, and the chance to thank the source of his newfound fortune was too enticing to ignore. And he really wanted those Luck points! Plus, he was more than ready for a drive in his car¡ªa drive he had never taken before because, in the past, it always ended with another breakdown courtesy of his usual brand of bad luck. He could even imagine the scenario in his head. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. He would be driving along, the engine purring smoothly, when suddenly, his car would die without warning. His phone would mysteriously lose signal, leaving him stranded on a suspiciously empty highway. This scenario was tailor-made for a serial killer with a hook hand, lurking somewhere in the dark, ready to make the evening even worse. In his past, ¡°no Bad Luck bracelet¡± life, he wouldn¡¯t even have considered this kind of long drive. But now, things were different. He had the System, and with it, Luck points. Fueled by excitement (and a touch of caffeine), he hit the road. The open highway stretched out before him, a ribbon of possibility promising a fresh start and, hopefully, fewer mishaps. As he cruised along, a bright neon sign flashed ahead: ¡°Casino Yellowjacket 50 km.¡± The bold letters practically shouted at him, daring him to test his upgraded luck powers. ¡°Hellllll Yeah!¡± he shouted, unable to resist the siren call of chance. It felt like the universe itself was tempting him, a flashing beacon of fortune just up the road. With the thrill of the unknown spurring him on, Maluck continued his journey toward Calgary, ready to embrace whatever twists fate had in store. Every mile brought him closer to the mysterious shop¡ªand perhaps to a win at the casino¡ªproving that even in a world that had previously poured bad luck on him, a little luck (and a System) could open up a universe of possibilities. *** After about an hour, he pulled his car into the parking lot of Casino Yellowjacket. The sounds of slot machines beckoned him like a siren¡¯s call, while the entire casino reeked vaguely of cheap deodorizer. The carpets were noticeably worn, and since it was early evening on a weekday, the place was almost eerily empty. Dead-eyed gamblers drifted around, some slumped at blackjack tables, while many tables sat unoccupied. This was no glitzy Las Vegas hotel. Maluck glanced down at his Probability Charm. ¡°Alright, I get a 10% chance of things going my way,¡± he mused, ¡°so I could try my luck at blackjack.¡± But then he paused, remembering enough bad movies to know that if he played blackjack, someone would eventually suspect he was counting cards and promptly boot him out. ¡°That¡¯s definitely not what I need,¡± he muttered. ¡°Hmm, how about roulette? That seems easy enough.¡± He reached into his wallet and grimaced; he didn¡¯t have much cash on him. I mean, really¡ªwho did? Most people just used credit cards. Scanning the casino floor for an ATM¡ªevery good casino had them, right?¡ªhe spotted one in the corner. It was, of course, one of those overpriced machines that charged an extra $5 just to make a withdrawal. Desperate gamblers might cough up that extra cash without a second thought, but for Maluck¡ªa self-proclaimed cheap-ass son of a bitch¡ªthat was an absolute no-go. The idea of paying extra to access his own money felt like a betrayal. With a resigned shake of his head, he turned on his heel and walked back out the door. His mission was clear: find an ATM from his actual bank, one that didn¡¯t treat him like an easy target. Pulling up his phone, he quickly located one just five minutes away. When he finally reached the ATM and inserted his card, a moment of mild unease washed over him. In his past, every time he tried to use a bank card, it was a coin toss whether the ATM would work at all¡ªoften ending up out of cash, or, on one memorable occasion, hijacked by a shady skimmer that read his card and then stole it. Glancing at his character sheet, he noted with relief that he had no Bad Luck Points, though his Good Luck Points had dipped by one, leaving him at: Luck Points: 118 Wait! It had dropped! He paused, staring in disbelief as the notification blinked on his screen. It appeared that his Luck Points had been used to block the usual hourly increase in bad luck¡ªsomething he¡¯d been dreading. The thought made him grin, a surge of relief washing over him. His daily ATM withdrawal limit was $2,000, which meant he had to make four separate transactions of $500 each. He completed them quickly, leaving his bank account at a pitiful $7,842. The military hadn¡¯t exactly been a cash cow, and he¡¯d been splurging on his ex-girlfriend¡¯s acting lessons while also covering rent and bills. So, he fervently hoped that this casino venture would work its magic, or else he¡¯d be stuck as Maluck, the perpetual job hunter, rather than Maluck, the universe-conquering luck god. As he looked at his tiny balance, he couldn¡¯t help but chuckle at the absurdity of his situation. Here he was, risking a big chunk of his bank account on a gamble to test his luck, while the cosmos dangled the promise of divine fortune before his eyes. If the casino failed him, he¡¯d be back to dodging rent collectors and counting coins¡ªa fate he was determined to avoid at all costs. POV : Astral Universe The Seven Deadly Sins were watching him as he drove back and forth from the casino, shaking their collective heads in amusement. ¡°Man, this guy is so incompetent,¡± they mused¡ªthough, admittedly, exactly this was the kind of situation they relished. If the choice had been left to the Seven Virtues, they would have picked some goody-two-shoes who spent their days serving soup kitchens or working for non-profits. But no, the Sins had made the right bet with Maluck¡ªwhose very first instinct was to hit a casino. ¡°Why did he have to change his name?¡± Pride asked, his voice dripping with arrogance. ¡°Was the original one not enough to carry all that greatness? Or was the luck too much for even you to handle?¡± ¡°Brah, those pussy Seven Virtues wanted him to get powers for free,¡± replied Wrath with a smirk. ¡°If you don¡¯t put in some effort, how are you gonna get the gainz?¡± Envy piped in, ¡°That¡¯s right. Why should he get free stuff? Every time we use our powers, it costs us. He should have to do something!¡± ¡°And by only changing one letter, it didn¡¯t require us to expend much energy to activate¡ªplus, it saved us a bundle,¡± Gluttony added, grinning at the simplicity of it all. Meanwhile, Sloth said nothing at all, happily lounging in the corner as usual. Their banter, laced with mischief and irreverence, underscored the twisted satisfaction they derived from watching Maluck fumble his way through life¡ªa far cry from the pristine order the Virtues might have preferred. Chapter 10 POV : Calgary Walking back into the casino with a fresh stack of bills in his hands¡ªlike a conquering hero returning from battle¡ªhe wasted no time going to the cage. With a swift exchange, he turned his cash into chips. ¡°Here we go,¡± he said. ¡°Time to spin some roulette!¡± Roulette was as straightforward as it came, and with $2,000 in his pocket, he felt like a high-rolling genius. Thanks to his luck-boosting probability charm, that ordinarily 50-50 red-or-black gamble had shifted to a comfortable 60-40 in his favor. And honestly, 60% was all he needed. With a mischievous grin and a determined swagger, he marched toward the roulette table, ready to see if the universe would finally cut him a break. He walked to the table, ready to place a bet. With what he calculated as a 60% chance of winning¡ªwell, technically 58.9% once you factor in the pesky green zero¡ªhe had high hopes. At least he thought it was about 58.9% math wasn¡¯t his strong suit, as evidenced by the fact there was no ¡°Math Genius¡±, on his character sheet. Still, he wasn¡¯t about to risk his entire $2,000 on a single spin; 58.9% was far from a guarantee. Besides, in Calgary, the casino limits were modest, as most of the gamblers were passing highway travelers rather than high rollers. So, he cautiously put down $100. The ball spun for a moment, bouncing around with all the whimsy of a epileptic hamster. ¡°No more bets!¡± Said the dealer. The little ball ricocheted along the wheel until it finally came to rest. It landed on black¡ªthe very color he had bet on. The dealer announced, ¡°Black!¡± and slid $100 worth of chips over to Maluck. His betting strategy was based on some dubious movie advice: ¡°Always bet on black.¡± It was the kind of advice you might hear in a cheesy B-movie, where the hero defies the odds with a cool smirk and an air of destiny. In reality, it was about as useful as a one-legged man in a butt-kicking contest. Nevertheless, Maluck clung to the mantra like it was the ultimate secret to success¡ªeven if it was a piece of cinematic nonsense. After all, if you¡¯re going to gamble on luck, you might as well choose the color that sounds mysterious and rebellious: black. He was ecstatic. ¡°Yes!¡± he thought. For most people, winning $100 at a casino would be good, but for Maluck, it was a monumental victory. This was the first time he had ever won something at a casino, and the feeling was nothing short of awesome. In his mind, he muttered, ¡°I think I need a little break,¡± and casually wandered away from the table, basking in his newfound success. The dealer just stared at him, as if he were witnessing yet another wide-eyed newbie in the casino¡ªa guy whose expression screamed, ¡°I can¡¯t believe this is really happening!¡± ¡®What a cheap-ass noob,¡¯ the dealer thought, rolling his eyes inwardly. This guy was clearly a rookie who was probably too busy basking in his moment to realize that luck in this place had a funny way of turning on you just when you thought you were untouchable. Especially if he was a cheapskate who didn¡¯t tip. What the dealer didn¡¯t know was that Maluck wasn¡¯t just a typical newbie, but a man possessing the awesome luck powers of the Bad Luck bracelet. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. *** Maluck clutched his chips, especially the extra $100, and decided to do a quick mental check to see if everything was in order. When he glanced at his stat sheet, he noticed that his Luck Points had dropped¡ªdespite it not even being an hour since his last check. Luck Points: 116 ¡°Ah, so every bet costs me luck points?¡± he wondered aloud. [System Response] Yes, Host, every time you have good luck, it chips away at your Luck Points. And since you aren¡¯t racking up any Bad Luck Points, you don¡¯t get any offsetting gains. But don¡¯t worry, you¡¯re doing great¡ªjust keep playing smart and you¡¯ll keep building your luck in the right direction. Maluck¡¯s dream of simply betting on red and black¡ªand never having to work again¡ªcame crashing down like he had hit zero /green. ¡°So I should just make massive bets,¡± he mused optimistically. [System Response] Making massive bets doesn¡¯t change anything, Host, because the larger the outcome, the more Luck Points you¡¯ll use. But don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m here to help guide you. Every choice you make matters, and it¡¯s okay to take things one step at a time. You¡¯ve got this, and I believe in your ability to use your Luck Points wisely! Maluck groaned inwardly. ¡®Ah,¡¯ he thought, ¡®another loophole that I can¡¯t exploit.¡¯ It was as if the universe was teasing him¡ªevery time he tried to outsmart fate with a big wager, the cosmic ledger would slap him with a big nope. Maluck asked, ¡°So, how many spins would I get on $2,100? And do my Luck Points decrease every time I spin, or only when I win?¡± [System Response] Every time you use your Probability Charm, it goes down¡ªregardless of whether you win or lose. I know it¡¯s frustrating, Host, but don¡¯t be too hard on yourself. You¡¯re learning, and every step, no matter how small, is progress. Just take a deep breath and remember that patience is part of the journey. You¡¯ve got this. ¡°That¡¯s not fair,¡± Maluck grumbled. [System Response] You¡¯re right. I¡¯m sorry. It isn¡¯t unfair, Host. I understand how it might feel, but remember, this is all part of your growth. Life doesn¡¯t always work the way we want it to, but each challenge helps you become stronger. You¡¯re capable of more than you think. Keep going, and you¡¯ll find your way. Maluck couldn¡¯t help but let out a sigh. Life, it seemed, demanded a price even for a stroke of luck¡ªand sometimes that price was measured in precious Luck Points. *** As he thought about his Luck points, he couldn¡¯t help but ask the System, ¡°Is there anything else I can do with my Luck points besides letting them serve as a buffer?¡± Almost immediately, the System responded: [System Response] There¡¯s a new System Store open¡ªnow that you actually have Luck Points to spend on it, I know it¡¯s been a bit of a journey, but look at how far you¡¯ve come. You¡¯ve earned this opportunity, and I¡¯m here to help you make the most of it. Take your time, explore your options, and remember, you¡¯re always making progress, no matter how small the steps may seem. ¡°Ooh,¡± thought Maluck, excitement twinkling in his eyes, as he quickly opened the store interface. The display showcased an enticing selection: ?(100 LP) Lucky 8-Ball ¨C Shakes and predicts the future with 100% accuracy. Usable once a day. ?(150 LP) Rabbit¡¯s Foot of Probability ¨C Holding it makes improbable events almost certain to happen. ?(70 LP) Probability Charm Duration Increase ¨C This allows you to use a Probability Charm without consuming any luck points for one hour. Refresh choices? (10 LP) *** Maluck chuckled to himself, marveling at the absurdity and brilliance of it all. Who would have thought that his surplus of Luck points¡ªonce just a mere buffer¡ªcould be transformed into bizarre, yet potentially game-changing items? It was like stumbling into the cosmic equivalent of a clearance sale at a wizard¡¯s emporium, and he was more than ready to indulge his newfound fortune. Especially that Probability Charm Duration Increase. ¡°Buy!¡± Maluck shouted, and in an instant, 70 LP vanished from his stats¡ªleaving him with a lean 46 LP. Now he had exactly one hour to make the most out of it! With a mix of exhilaration and a dash of panic, he pictured all the possibilities that this limited time frame could unlock. Would he use his newly extended Probability Charm to double down on the next big bet, or perhaps lots of smaller bets? Either way, the clock was ticking, and every second was precious. With his heart pounding and a wry grin on his face, Maluck rushed back to the roulette table. Chapter 11 Maluck sat down at the roulette table, his freshly exchanged chips stacked neatly in front of him. His heart pounded with anticipation. This was it¡ªhis one-hour window to make the most of his Probability Charm, where every bet he placed had an enhanced chance of winning. He wasn¡¯t just some reckless gambler throwing chips around. No, he had a system. And that system revolved entirely around one number: 8 (Black). Well technically he had 2 systems, his new gambling system and the actual System. With not 1, but 2 systems he was ready to rumble! He started placing his $200 per spin, but unlike an amateur (which he totally was) who¡¯d throw it all on a single number and hope for a miracle, Maluck spread his bets like he¡¯d seen the pros do in movies. He covered inside numbers, outside bets, and even threw a few chips on the corner, just in case. It was messy, unstructured, and definitely not the smartest move¡ªbut he figured if it worked for the slick guys in movies, it could work for him, right? The Plan ?Inside Bets (Higher Payout, Higher Risk) ?$50 straight-up on 8 (35:1 payout) ¡ú The jackpot target ?$60 total in split bets¡ª$15 each covering 8 with its neighbors: 5, 7, 10, and 11 (17:1 payout) ?$20 on a street bet covering 7, 8, and 9 (11:1 payout) ?$20 on a corner bet covering 5, 6, 8, and 9 (8:1 payout) ?Outside Bets (Lower Payout, Higher Consistency) ?$30 on the entire column that contained 8 (2:1 payout) ?$20 on black (1:1 payout) ¡ú Covers 8 along with all black numbers ?$20 on 1-18 (Low Numbers) (1:1 payout) ¡ú Covers 8 and all numbers from 1-18 With these bets in place, he hoped that even if 8 didn¡¯t hit, he had plenty of backup options to win. Maluck watched as the ball clattered around the wheel, bouncing between numbers like it was deliberately messing with him. It slowed down, hovered near 8 for a second¡ªhis heart jumped¡ªand then landed on 10. ¡°10, black,¡± the dealer announced. Maluck exhaled sharply, then looked at his chip stacks. He didn¡¯t hit 8, but he still won money because of his: ?Split bet (8-10) ¡ú $270 win ?Column bet (which includes 10) ¡ú $90 win ?Black bet ¡ú $40 win Total win: $400 Not bad. Not great either. But he wasn¡¯t here to win fast¡ªhe was here to win consistently. The next spin was awful¡ªa complete disaster. Maluck had more chips spread across the table than a family-size bag of Baked Laze, yet somehow, every single bet missed. Not even a measly outside bet hit. $200¡ªgone. Just like that. One moment, it was a neat stack of chips, full of hope and potential. The next, it was a tragic footnote in his growing list of gambling experiences. He stared at the board, then at the dealer, then back at the board. ¡°Nothing?¡± he muttered under his breath. ¡°Not even a sympathy payout?¡± The dealer, as expressionless as ever, swept away his chips with the efficiency of a banker repossessing dreams. Maluck exhaled sharply and mentally pulled up his inventory sheet to check if he had accidentally turned off his Probability Charm? Probability Charm: Active. 55 minutes left. ¡®Okay, good, so it¡¯s still working,¡¯ he thought, though it sure as hell didn¡¯t feel like it. He sighed. ¡®I realllllly need to temper my expectations.¡¯ The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. One lucky spin, and he thought he was some kind of gambling prodigy. But no, the roulette wheel was still a cruel, unforgiving beast, Probability Charm or not. This wasn¡¯t a magic button for free money¡ªit was just a slightly better chance at not being a complete loser. And right now? He still felt like one. As the minutes ticked by, Maluck kept placing the same bets, spinning, and watching as the ball mocked him¡ªalways hovering near 8, only to veer off at the last second. ?A 7 hit? Split bet and street bet win. ?A 9? Corner bet and street bet win. ?A 5? Corner bet win. ?A black number lands? His black bet salvages some cash. This kept him in the game, never letting him walk away empty-handed. It was like the universe dangled 8 in front of him but refused to let him take a direct win. At one point, the ball literally bounced on 8 twice before settling on 6. Maluck almost flipped the table. ¡°That has to be illegal,¡± he muttered under his breath. The spins where he totally missed also kept happening, like a cruel joke the universe was playing on him. Every time the ball landed, it somehow dodged every single bet he had placed¡ªas if the roulette wheel itself had developed a personal vendetta against him. But the worst¡ªthe absolute soul-crushing moment¡ªwas when the ball landed on zero (green). Maluck winced as the croupier calmly announced, ¡°Zero, green.¡± The table groaned collectively, a mix of sighs and frustrated gamblers realizing their money had just vanished into the bottomless pit of casino profits. Zero was the house¡¯s cruelest trick, the ultimate reset button that wiped out all bets except for those who had the rare foresight (or masochism) to bet directly on it. ¡±$200 gone in three seconds.¡± He slumped back in his seat. ¡°That¡¯s gotta be illegal,¡± he muttered under his breath, watching the dealer sweep up his chips like a vacuum of despair. And yet¡ªhe was never fully wiped out. The way he had spread his bets meant that even on his worst runs, something small always hit here and there¡ªjust enough to keep him in the game. A split bet here, a column bet there, a red or black hedge¡ªthey weren¡¯t big wins, but they were enough to soften the blows. So while his chip stack fluctuated like a rollercoaster operated by a drunk engineer, he wasn¡¯t out. Not yet. And if there was one thing Maluck knew after years of terrible luck¡ªit was that the longer he survived, the more chances he had to turn things around. Maluck had steadily built his stack. His winnings fluctuated but never dipped too low¡ªhis method kept him afloat even when 8 never hit directly. And then, the final bet of the hour. Maluck took a deep breath. One last spin. This was it, the moment of truth. The ball bounced, clattered, and tumbled around the wheel like it was trying to decide whether to be kind or cruel. For a split second, Maluck swore he saw his lucky number 8 hovering right there on the edge of destiny. The ball swirled closer and closer to it, and Maluck felt a spark of hope. This is it, he thought. I¡¯m going to win big. But just as his heart began to race, the ball made a final hop and landed with a harsh clink on 7. ¡®This is bullshit,¡¯ Maluck thought, staring at the number. He swore under his breath. ¡®This wasn¡¯t this how it always happened in the movies?¡¯ The hero would be riding the highs and lows of the game, facing near defeat, and then at the last minute¡ªbam! A slow-motion shot, the roulette ball spinning towards his number. And then victory, in cinematic glory.. ¡®Where¡¯s my slow-motion, cinematic winning moment?¡¯ Maluck complained mentally, feeling the universe, the casino, and luck itself had all betrayed him in that instant. He couldn¡¯t help but laugh bitterly, shaking his head. ¡®I guess life doesn¡¯t work like the movies, huh?¡¯ He sighed and exhaled, half-laughing and half-groaning. ¡°Of course. One number off. Story of my life.¡± But then, as he glanced down at the chips in front of him, his frown began to fade. The final total winnings displayed in front of him: $7,000. Wait¡ªwhat? He hadn¡¯t hit 8, sure. But his strategy, the one he had pieced together from watching too many gambling movies, and the little boost from his Probability Charm, had worked. Maluck walked in with $2,000, and now he was walking out with $9,000. ¡®Not bad. Not bad for an hour of ¡°luck,¡± ¡®he thought with a smile. Maluck chuckled to himself as he gathered his chips, shoving them into his pockets. He checked his stat sheet one last time¡ªhis Probability Charm Extension had expired. Yet, he had walked out with a win. A real win. Feeling a mix of satisfaction and relief, Maluck leaned back, grinning. ¡®Guess sometimes life does throw you a bone,¡¯ he thought, still smiling at the absurdity of it all. For the first time in his life, luck wasn¡¯t just something that happened to other people. And that? That was worth more than any jackpot. Maluck slid a $100 tip over to the dealer, who accepted it with the same emotionless efficiency they had while sweeping away his chips earlier. In their head, though, the dealer thought, ¡®Huh, at least the noobie learned that tipping wasn¡¯t just a city in China.¡¯ ¡°Thanks,¡± Maluck muttered, even though he wasn¡¯t entirely sure what he was thanking them for¡ªmaybe for not laughing at his losses? Maybe for simply existing? Either way, he figured tipping was a good luck gesture, and right now, he needed every ounce of cosmic favor he could get. With a deep breath, he pushed away from the table, his pockets heavier than when he started¡ªand his mood feeling lighter. But unlike the casinos in Vegas, there were no free rooms, no VIP comps, no fancy steak dinners for high rollers. Hell, he didn¡¯t even get so much as a ¡°Thanks for playing¡± coupon for a free drink. Nope. Just a polite nod from the dealer, the lingering scent of stale casino air, and the realization that he still hadn¡¯t accomplished his System Task of ¡°Finding his Benefactors.¡± That was definitely next on his to do list! *** Chapter 12 With his Probability Charm no longer working, Maluck decided it was time to get a move on and knock out that System Task. Calgary was about two hours away, and for once, he could look forward to a smooth ride¡ªno breakdowns, no flat tires, no random meteor strikes¡ªbecause, for the first time in forever, his bad luck wasn¡¯t in play. Humming happily to himself, he thought about the $9,000 now sitting in his pocket¡ª$7,000 from his roulette winnings, plus what he¡¯d had before walking in. Wait¡ªmake that $8,900. He had tipped the dealer $100. Still, he was over the moon. His rent? Paid. His bills? Handled. And best of all? No leechy girlfriend demanding a ¡°thoughtful purchase¡± from his winnings. Even his hangover from this morning was completely gone. Turns out, winning money was the best possible cure. ¡®Who needed greasy breakfasts and aspirin when pure endorphins and stacks of cash worked just fine?¡¯ As he cruised down the highway, his CD player¡ªyes, his car still had a CD player, because bad luck had prevented him from ever upgrading to Bluetooth¡ªplayed absolute bangers from a mystery mix CD he had forgotten was in there. It was a perfect soundtrack to his victory lap. No breakdowns. No disasters. Just him, the open road, and the satisfaction of being $7,000 richer. And soon enough, after a long drive filled with half-hearted attempts to keep his eyes open, Maluck saw the sign ¡ª Welcome to Calgary. He couldn¡¯t help but grin. Sure, it wasn¡¯t exactly a glamorous destination, but it was his destination for now. The city stretched before him like a canvas of possibilities. He leaned back in his seat, the hum of the car¡¯s engine a comforting soundtrack as the moon hung high in the sky, bathing the landscape in its gentle shadows. ¡®Calgary had a certain charm to it,¡¯ he thought, ¡°rough around the edges, but with potential.¡¯ Much like him, really. Maluck reached over to adjust the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of himself. ¡°Here we go,¡± he muttered, the excitement bubbling up inside him. This wasn¡¯t just another town. This was a fresh start, a chance to do things his way. And as the car rolled into the city, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that Calgary was going to be the perfect backdrop for whatever was about to come next. *** Pulling into Calgary was surreal for Maluck. He had never taken a long road trip like this. Well, technically, he had, but every past attempt involved breaking down multiple times, getting stranded, or calling for a tow truck so often that he was on a first-name basis with half the mechanics in Alberta. But now? A clean, uninterrupted drive? This was history in the making. For most people, a smooth three-hour drive was just another Tuesday. But for Maluck¡ªfreshly liberated from the stink of bad luck¡ªthis was nothing short of a miracle. And things were about to get even better. Up ahead on his right, Mick¡¯s Drive-In came into view. His first stop in Calgary. And a damn good one. Mick¡¯s had legendary burgers and milkshakes¡ªreal ingredients, real flavor, none of that frozen, mass-produced nonsense. Unlike those soulless fast-food chains that somehow kept their ice cream machines broken as a business model, Mick¡¯s was a glutton¡¯s paradise. ?Their milkshakes? Made with actual milk and ice cream. ?Their fries? Fried in pure, unapologetic lard¡ªthe way nature intended. ?Their burgers? A juicy, mouth-watering, greasy masterpiece stacked high with extra patties, onions, pickles, cheese, and even chili if you wanted it. Just as Maluck was about to make his order, a System Task popped up. [System Task] Get the biggest burger around¡ªbecause that¡¯s the best way to prove you¡¯re the best. Reward: ??? ¡°Hell yeah, easy!¡± Maluck grinned. If there was one thing he could handle, it was eating a giant burger. Then, he saw him. A massive dude¡ªeasily 350 pounds, with greasy hair and a shirt that said ¡°FREE HUGS¡±¡ªstrolled out of the restaurant, casually holding a triple-patty behemoth of a burger. Maluck froze. ¡°Oh, crap.¡± That meant the original triple-patty burger he was planning to order to complete this task wasn¡¯t going to cut it. To complete the System Task, he had to one-up Free Hugs Guy. That meant at least a quadruple. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Could he do it? Sure. Would it be comfortable? Absolutely not. Before he could even process what he was about to put his stomach through, another System Task popped up. [System Task] Don¡¯t forget the fries and milkshake. Because what¡¯s a feast without sides? Maluck stared at the floating text in disbelief. ¡°What the hell, System?¡± *** POV : Astral Universe Kindness, who was in charge of the System that day, sighed in exasperation. ¡°Oh, come on.¡± She knew exactly who was behind this ridiculous System Task. It had Gluttony¡¯s greasy fingerprints all over it. Sure, she was technically the one running the System today, but that didn¡¯t mean the other Sins and Virtues couldn¡¯t sneak in their own tasks and objectives. If the host completed them, the influence would go to the task giver¡ªmeaning Gluttony was about to stuff himself with even more fortune, both metaphorically and literally. The task giver, however, was responsible for paying out the System Rewards. Meanwhile, Gluttony, currently sprawled out in her own personal food coma, was already anticipating the results. She was lying on a mountain of snacks, about to start eating melted cheese with a spoon, waiting for Maluck to complete the task. And Humility? She had to sit here and watch as her ¡°humble and virtuous¡± System got hijacked into enabling an all-you-can-eat challenge. ¡°Honestly,¡± she muttered, rubbing her temples, ¡°why do I even bother?¡± *** POV : Calgary With this massive food challenge in mind, Maluck wasn¡¯t about to back down. System Task or not, he had pride¡ªand a stomach¡ªto uphold. Before committing to the quadruple-patty, lard-fried, heart-stopping monstrosity, he took a quick look at his current Luck Points. LP: 39 Wait, what? Shouldn¡¯t that number be higher? He hadn¡¯t made any bets, and he hadn¡¯t done anything risky¡ªso where had his Luck Points gone? Then it hit him. Maybe his Luck Points had been silently shielding him from bad luck all along. And indeed, they had. While cruising down the highway to Calgary, there had been a cop with a radar gun and a quota to meet¡ªjust waiting for someone to floor it past him. That should have been him. But¡ªpurely by coincidence¡ªMaluck had slowed down. Why? Because the song playing on his CD player had literally told him to: ¡°Take it easy, let life drive by slow¡­¡± And being in a good mood, riding the high of his $9,000 victory, Maluck had playfully followed the lyrics. Had he been going his usual speed? Boom. Speeding ticket. Instant loss of cash. Had he decided to switch songs at that moment instead of listening to the whole thing? Bam. Pulled over for distracted driving. But instead, his Luck Points had nudged fate just enough to keep him out of trouble. Of course, he wouldn¡¯t realize any of this until he checked his Action Log tomorrow. Right now, though? He had more important things to focus on. Like eating his weight in beef. *** Maluck walked up to the counter, feeling equal parts confident and slightly terrified at what he was about to do to his body. The cashier, a bored-looking teenager, barely glanced up as she clicked her pen. ¡°What can I get you?¡± Maluck grinned and leaned in slightly, as if ordering a secret weapon. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll take a quadruple-patty Mick¡¯s Monster Burger, extra cheese, extra bacon. A large fries. Oh, and a chocolate milkshake. Large.¡± The cashier finally looked up. She blinked once. Then twice. ¡°¡­You sure about that?¡± Maluck smirked. ¡°Absolutely.¡± She glanced at him, then at the menu board, then back at him like she was trying to figure out whether this was a prank or a cry for help. ¡°Alright,¡± she said slowly, clicking her pen again. ¡°That¡¯ll be $34.99.¡± The Mick¡¯s Monster Burger wasn¡¯t just big¡ªit was a structural hazard. Four thick, juicy beef patties stacked high, each one grilled to perfection, with the edges slightly crisped and the inside still rich and tender. Each patty was oozing melted cheddar that dripped onto the bottom bun like a delicious landslide. Layers of crispy bacon were weaved between the meat, thick-cut, salty, and with just enough crunch to remind you that your arteries were about to be very, very mad. It didn¡¯t stop there¡ªoh no. A generous helping of grilled onions and pickles added a tangy, slightly sweet bite to contrast the meat apocalypse happening beneath them. The special Mick¡¯s sauce¡ªa secret blend of garlicky, peppery, tangy goodness¡ªwas slathered over the top bun, which was buttered and toasted to golden perfection. Maluck had eaten a lot of burgers in his life, but this? This was a titan. He looked at it in his bag, it was truly tempting him to bite into it before he even walked out. A large order of Mick¡¯s Lard-Fried Fries came in a paper boat overflowing with golden perfection. These weren¡¯t your sad, frozen, fast-food fries. These were hand-cut, thick, crispy on the outside, and fluffy on the inside. The lard frying process gave them a rich, almost buttery crunch that regular oil could never achieve. Maluck picked one up, still glistening with heat, and gave it an experimental crunch. Nobody said he couldn¡¯t eat a fry before walking out though. He closed his eyes. ¡®Oh yeah. This was a fry done right!¡¯ There was just the right amount of salt, just the right balance of crispy edges and soft potato center. And because this was Mick¡¯s, a cup of their signature gravy was included on the side¡ªthick, peppery, and meant for dunking each fry into absolute bliss. He didn¡¯t crack open the to go cup, that could wait till he sat down. Finally, the crown jewel¡ªa large, hand-spun chocolate milkshake. This wasn¡¯t some thin, artificial, syrup-laden disappointment. No, this was the real deal. Made with actual ice cream and whole milk, thick enough that the straw stood up on its own, and topped with real whipped cream and chocolate drizzle. Maluck picked it up and took a long, indulgent sip. Pure, creamy, chocolate heaven. It was so thick that it nearly took lung strength to drink it, but that just made it better. The cashier, who had been watching this entire event unfold, finally spoke up. ¡°¡­Dude.¡± Maluck wiped a bit of sauce off his lip. ¡°Yeah?¡± She hesitated, then said, ¡°¡­Good luck.¡± Maluck grinned and grabbed his tray. ¡°Luck¡¯s kinda my thing.¡± *** Mick¡¯s was a classic drive-in, which meant that most people used the drive-thru window¡ªquick, efficient, and perfect for grabbing greasy goodness on the go. But when the lines got insanely long¡ªand they always did¡ªthere was an option to walk inside and order at the counter. The only catch? No seats. No booths, no stools, no little diner-style tables where you could sit and bask in the glory of your meal. Nothing. Just a counter, a few napkin dispensers, and a simple rule: Order, pick up, and get out. It didn¡¯t matter if you ordered a single cheeseburger or a meal large enough to legally be considered a challenge¡ªyou were eating in your own car. And Maluck? Maluck had just ordered something that deserved a victory feast. So, with a bag containing his massive Mick¡¯s Monster Meal now in his hands, he made his way back to his car¡ªhis personal dining room for the next 30 minutes of battle. Chapter 13 Maluck sat in the driver¡¯s seat of his car, bag balanced on his lap, and stared at the absolute monstrosity in front of him. The quadruple-patty Mick¡¯s Monster Burger looked even bigger up close, and now that he was alone with it, he wasn¡¯t entirely sure he could win this fight. But there was no turning back now. He unwrapped the beast, and the first thing that hit him was the smell¡ªrich, grilled beef, crispy bacon, melted cheese, and that signature Mick¡¯s sauce all blending into a glorious aroma that practically forced his stomach to growl in anticipation. Maluck picked up the burger with both hands¡ªbecause that was the only way to hold it without everything falling apart¡ªand took his first massive bite. He did his best to try to unhinge his jaw like an anaconda attempting to eat an elephant. It was unsuccessful, but he did take a big chunk out of the burger. The juicy beef patties practically melted in his mouth, the cheese stretched beautifully, and the bacon added that perfect salty crunch. The Mick¡¯s sauce was tangy and rich, coating the toasted bun and tying everything together like a symphony of greasy perfection. It was delicious. It was heaven. It was also a structural disaster. Within seconds, grease and sauce were running down his fingers, a rogue pickle escaped and landed on his jeans, and a blob of melted cheese dripped onto his tray. Did he care? Absolutely not. He powered through. Bite after bite. The burger was fighting back. His stomach was sending early warning signals. But he wasn¡¯t done yet. He reached for his fries, grabbing a handful and dunking them into Mick¡¯s thick, peppery gravy. The first fry crunched perfectly, and the rich, buttery lard-fried goodness coated his taste buds in pure bliss. He shoved in another handful. And another. He chased it with a deep sip of his milkshake, the thick chocolate creaminess washing everything down like a reset button for his taste buds. Staring at the last quarter of his burger, Maluck felt a wave of realization hit him. He had never eaten this much in one sitting. Ever. His stomach was screaming. His body was staging a protest. His jeans demanded he pop open the button. The burger, once a glorious treasure, was now a greasy monster staring him down, mocking him. The fries? Mostly gone. The milkshake? Half-finished, because it was so thick it was practically ice cream. Maluck exhaled sharply, wiped the sweat off his forehead, and grabbed the burger again. ¡°One last push.¡± Bite. Chew. Swallow. Bite. Chew. Swallow. And then, finally¡ªmercifully¡ªthe last bite was gone. Maluck leaned back against his seat, hands resting on his aching stomach, breathing heavily. ¡°Ohhh, I don¡¯t think I can move for a while¡­ or even drive¡­¡± His entire car was now a disaster zone of wrappers, stray fries, and grease-stained napkins. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. With a deep sigh, he reclined his seat, closed his eyes, and accepted his fate. Food coma time. He wasn¡¯t alone. All around the parking lot, other cars were suspiciously quiet, filled with fellow food coma victims who had also taken on the Mick¡¯s Challenge and lost. And then¡ª [System Task Accomplished] +5 Luck Points. Maluck smiled to himself, eyes still closed. ¡°Totally worth it.¡± *** After his food coma and mini-nap, Maluck felt recharged¡­ ish. His stomach was still protesting the sheer amount of beef, cheese, and lard-fried perfection he had forced upon it, but his determination was back. Time to accomplish his System Task. Except¡ªwait. He had a whole bunch of Luck Points sitting around. And if there was one thing Maluck believed in, it was not hoarding points like a paranoid RPG protagonist. ¡°Alright,¡± he muttered, pulling up his System Store. A quick scan showed that the two remaining store items¡ªthe Lucky 8-Ball and the Rabbit¡¯s Foot of Probability¡ªwere still way out of his price range. Damn. He sighed and was about to close the menu when he noticed something new. Luck Level: 1 (0/100) Kinda Unlucky ¨C You step in a puddle right as you leave home, but at least it¡¯s just water. Probably Maluck blinked. ¡°Wait¡ªwhat the hell is this?¡± [System Response] Luck Levels reflect the balance of fortune in your life, shaping how the System¡¯s blessings reach you. It¡¯s not just about getting lucky¡ªit¡¯s about using those moments wisely and with a bit of grace. When you care for your luck, it grows with you, bringing more chances your way. But remember, fortune¡¯s best when shared and appreciated. Don¡¯t hold onto it too tight, and don¡¯t toss it around without thought. Use it with a little heart, and the System will keep delivering. Maluck scratched his head. ¡°So, like¡­ I get luckier?¡± [System Response] Among other things. He narrowed his eyes. That sounded incredibly vague, and if there was one thing he had learned in life, it was that vague explanations were how people got scammed. But at the same time¡­ He had Luck points to spend. And honestly? It might be risky to let himself drop back into his ¡°normal¡± levels of bad luck, but he¡¯d been living with that his whole life. Besides, it wasn¡¯t like stacking up a little bad luck would kill him. If that were true, he would¡¯ve died a long time ago. So, screw it. He dumped his points into Luck Leveling¡ªand braced for whatever came next. Luck Level: 1 (44/100) *** Maluck felt a little uneasy seeing his Luck Points drop to zero, knowing that bad luck was officially back on the menu. He had kind of gotten used to being lucky¡ªit was nice, after all¡ªbut with a lifetime of surviving absolute nonsense, he figured he¡¯d manage. At least now he knew bad luck was real, and that it happened to him because he was an unlucky son of a bitch, and that he wasn¡¯t just being paranoid. Still, he wasn¡¯t taking any chances. Before starting his drive to look for the mysterious Chinese fortune shop, he made sure everything was in order. He tidied up the mess from his monumental meal, carefully collecting wrappers, stray fries, and the last traces of melted milkshake. Everything was going smoothly¡ªuntil he reached for an unopened ketchup packet that had somehow escaped detection. It exploded. All over his seat. All over his pants. Maluck froze. He looked down. The deep red stain spread across his lap like an unfortunate puberty mishap. ¡°¡­Well. That¡¯s just fucking great.¡± He grabbed napkins, wiping at the stain furiously, but all it did was smear it more. Now it looked like he had just lost a battle with a bottle of tomato sauce. He sighed and pulled up his Bad Luck Points. BP: 0/100. Wait. What? It had been 1/100 before. Which meant¡­ That ketchup incident had consumed his first Bad Luck point. Maluck exhaled. Honestly? If ketchup stains were the worst thing bad luck had in store for him today, he could live with that. Shoving the last of the trash into the bin, he climbed back into his car and pulled onto the road, driving carefully. Very carefully. He stuck exactly to the speed limit¡ªnot even the extra 10 km/h cushion that most people drove. This, of course, resulted in him going slower than traffic and earning a parade of glares and passive-aggressive lane changes. Not that he cared. He wasn¡¯t giving bad luck any extra ammunition. *** Calgary was huge, and its road system was an absolute disaster. Whoever had designed the downtown streets had clearly never driven a car in their life and had instead consulted a pack of mildly autistic donkey¡¯s for urban planning advice. One-way streets were everywhere, but never in a way that made sense. Half the roads seemed to be random dead ends, and the ones that actually led somewhere? Guaranteed construction. It felt like the city planners had taken a perfectly good map, ripped it into pieces, then taped it back together wrong just to mess with people. And Maluck? He didn¡¯t even know the name of the shop he was looking for. Which made things¡­ complicated. Was it even a real shop? Or was it some mystical pop-up business that only appeared when the stars aligned? He had no way of knowing. It¡¯s not like he could just ask random people on the street without sounding like a complete lunatic. ¡°Hey, have you seen a mysterious Chinese fortune shop?¡± ¡°Yeah, sure, buddy. Right next to the wizard¡¯s tower and the time-traveling convenience store.¡± Or worse¡ªhe¡¯d sound accidentally racist. ¡°Uh, I¡¯m looking for¡­ an old Chinese man? Who sells¡­ fortune bracelets?¡± That was a one-way ticket to getting side-eyed into oblivion. So, he was left with one strategy. Blindly drive around. Which, in Calgary, was a punishment all on its own. He looped past the same Jim Hortons three times, took a wrong turn that spit him onto a bridge he didn¡¯t mean to take, ended up in Kensington when he swore he was heading toward Chinatown, and at one point, found himself in a Costless parking lot with no clear way out. ¡°HOW DID I EVEN GET HERE?!¡± But finally¡ªfinally¡ªafter enough circling around to qualify as a satellite, there it was. As if the universe had acknowledged his struggles, he saw it. The mystery Chinese fortune shop. Just sitting there, like it had been waiting for him all along. It looked exactly like it had in Edmonton. With a banner that said ¡°Change Your Luck!¡± hung merrily up front. Chapter 14 Maluck pulled into an empty parking spot in front of the shop, took a deep breath, and stepped inside. The small bell jingled as the door swung open, and there, standing behind the counter like something straight out of a mystical artifact pawn shop clich¨¦, was the mysterious old Chinese man. The old man squinted at him, rubbing his chin, a glint of knowing in his eyes. ¡°Ah, are you looking to change your luck?¡± His voice was low, almost a whisper, as though he was speaking a secret only the winds could hear. ¡°Luck is not a simple thing, my friend. It is like the river¡ªsometimes it flows freely, sometimes it pools, and other times it runs dry. But it is always moving, changing. And with the right guidance, you can learn to steer its course.¡± He leaned in slightly, his gaze intense, as though peering into the very fabric of Maluck¡¯s future. ¡°Changing your luck is not about chasing fortune. It is about understanding the dance between your choices and the unseen forces that surround you. Only those who walk with wisdom can change the winds in their favor. Be patient, be humble, and the currents will shift in your direction. Just remember¡ªluck is a gift, but it¡¯s the way you use it that defines you.¡± The old man paused, letting the words settle in the air like a spell, before adding with a knowing smile, ¡°But remember, the winds of fortune are fickle¡­ and they can turn just as quickly as they change.¡± Then his expression shifted as recognition dawned. ¡®Ah, hell.¡¯ It was Maluck. The guy who had really overpaid for the bracelet. The guy who had been the tipping point for their relocation to Calgary. ¡®Crap.¡¯ The old man quickly switched gears, his posture snapping into polite salesman mode. ¡°Ah, benefactor!¡± he said smoothly. ¡°What brings you all the way to Calgary?¡± On the inside, he was mildly panicking. ¡®Is he here for a refund? That would be bad. Very bad.¡¯ Only a couple of people had asked for a refund. He never gave them one, though. It had gotten bad enough that they¡¯d even changed the shop¡¯s city location. And considering Maluck had dropped two grand, making a three-hour drive and tracking him down wasn¡¯t entirely unreasonable if he was feeling scam vibes. But still, the thought of refunds made his skin crawl. You know, in that ¡°I¡¯ve got a bad taste in my mouth and a sinking feeling in my stomach¡± kind of way. ¡®Damn it. I really should have moved all the way to Vancouver. Or at least made sure nobody knew where we went.¡¯ Well, no point in panicking now. ¡®Let¡¯s see if I can talk my way out of this.¡¯ Maluck smiled. ¡°I came to thank you.¡± The old man blinked. Wait. ¡®What?¡¯ Was this a trap? ¡°What?¡± the old man blurted out, then quickly recovered. ¡°Ah, of course, of course! But may I ask what you¡¯re thanking me for?¡± ¡°The bracelet, of course.¡± Oh, that was unexpected. The old man narrowed his eyes, still not fully convinced he wasn¡¯t being set up for something. ¡°Ohhh, the fortune bracelet?¡± ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s completely changed my life. My luck has never been better.¡± Maluck beamed, radiating pure gratitude. The old man, meanwhile, was struggling to process this. ¡®This guy actually believes it worked?¡¯ ¡°¡­Well, no thanks needed!¡± The old man quickly pivoted into gracious mode, his eyes gleaming with something otherworldly. ¡°Your donation of $2,000 was very helpful. It will add to the balance of the universe in ways you cannot yet see, but trust me, it is already working its magic. The flow of energy is being shifted.¡± He gave Maluck a knowing smile, one that made him feel like he¡¯d just stepped into a strange world, one where money and luck were not just matters of chance, but cosmic forces at play. Maluck crossed his arms, tilting his head. ¡°But you still moved the store. I thought the two grand would¡¯ve been enough to cover the rent.¡± The old Chinese man sighed, shaking his head slowly as if remembering something far older than just the conversation. ¡°Ah, we gathered the money, yes,¡± he murmured, his voice thick with the weight of ancient wisdom. ¡°But the landlord¡ªvicious man¡ªrefused it. Said he would rather leave the place empty, as if he could keep the fortune locked away from the world. But the winds of fate are not so easily stopped, young one. Some things are meant to flow, no matter how much resistance they face.¡± He looked up at Maluck with a glint in his eye, as though he knew more than he let on. ¡°Everything has its time. The universe will see to it that things find their place, even if not in the way we expect.¡± Maluck frowned. ¡°Why the hell would he do that?¡± The old man let out an exaggerated sigh, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of countless untold years had finally caught up with him. ¡°Ah,¡± he murmured, his voice laced with ancient weariness, ¡°he said it was better to leave it vacant, to let it wither, so he could tear it down and build a mega complex. A thing of steel and glass, like all the others.¡± He paused, shaking his head slowly, as though disappointed by the folly of modern men. ¡°But the land, it remembers,¡± he continued, his voice lowering as if speaking to the earth itself. ¡°The stones and the walls¡ªthey¡¯ve seen countless changes. And no matter how many towers rise, the old ways still whisper beneath it all. The greedy may try to claim it, but the land always has its own plans.¡± He looked up at Maluck, his eyes gleaming with a hint of knowing. ¡°The winds will shift. What is meant to be will find its way, whether through the cracks or over the walls. Remember that.¡± Maluck groaned. ¡°Of course. Nothing says ¡®great city planning¡¯ like another overpriced concrete box.¡± The old man¡¯s eyes sparkled with a depth that seemed to transcend time, his voice carrying the weight of forgotten wisdom. ¡°Indeed, benefactor. Your generosity¡­ it flows like a river, unseen but powerful. Though the stones may shift and the winds may howl, your donation still ripples through the fabric of things, affecting what you cannot yet see.¡± He clasped his hands together, a gesture that seemed to hold the weight of countless prayers. ¡°Your kindness, though small in your eyes, has woven threads of fate, guiding us through shadowed paths. And for that, we are eternally grateful.¡± He bowed his head slightly, as though acknowledging not just Maluck, but the unseen forces that had conspired to bring them together. ¡°The universe always returns what is given, in ways both grand and subtle. Know this: your help was not just material, but spiritual. You¡¯ve set things in motion¡­ and we are forever in your debt.¡± He straightened, his smile warm but mysterious, as though he could see the path ahead that Maluck could not. ¡°And the path you walk, benefactor, will be one filled with unexpected twists and gifts. Of that, I am certain.¡± Maluck nodded. ¡°Well, that¡¯s good to hear.¡± Then, after a pause, he leaned in slightly. ¡°Can you tell me more about the bracelet and its powers?¡± This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. The old man did not hesitate for a second. As an experienced con artist, this was his moment to shine. The old man¡¯s eyes narrowed with practiced wisdom, and he stroked his beard as if recalling some long-forgotten secret of the universe. ¡°Ah, yes¡­ the bracelet,¡± he began, his voice soft yet commanding, like a man who had spent decades unraveling the mysteries of fate itself. Maluck leaned in, completely hooked. ¡°This is no ordinary trinket,¡± the old man continued. ¡°It is an artifact of immense power, forged in the fires of destiny itself.¡± His hands moved dramatically, as if he were tracing unseen energy in the air. ¡°Legend speaks of seven great celestial forces¡ªbeings beyond human comprehension¡ªthat once roamed the astral plane. They battled endlessly, shaping the very fabric of luck and fortune in the mortal world.¡± He paused for effect, glancing at Maluck, who was hanging onto every word like he was listening to a prophecy. The old man lowered his voice, adding an air of secrecy. ¡°Only one artifact was ever made to balance these forces¡­ one object, imbued with their very essence, capable of bending fate itself. This bracelet.¡± Maluck¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Wait, seriously?¡± The old man nodded gravely, pretending to hesitate, as if he were about to reveal forbidden knowledge. ¡°Yes, but only the worthy can wield it,¡± he said, eyeing Maluck as if assessing his soul. ¡°Most who attempt to harness its power¡­ fail. Their luck turns against them. They are¡­ consumed by misfortune.¡± Maluck instinctively tightened his grip on the bracelet. The old man continued, smoothly shifting into a more intricate web of lies. ¡°But you¡­ you are different.¡± His tone shifted, carrying a hint of awe, admiration¡ªjust enough to stroke Maluck¡¯s ego. ¡°The bracelet chose you. That means you possess a rare energy, a balance of fate itself. That is why your life has changed, why luck now bends in your favor.¡± Maluck nodded slowly, this explanation fitting perfectly into what he had already observed. The old man noticed that his nonsense was working beautifully, so he kept going. ¡°The bracelet¡¯s power fluctuates,¡± he said, voice heavy with meaning. ¡°It must be nurtured, respected. When properly attuned, it can shift even the most improbable circumstances in your favor. But if neglected¡­¡± He let the sentence hang ominously. Maluck swallowed hard. ¡°Wait, neglected how?¡± The old man let out a deep sigh, shaking his head. ¡°The energies within are ancient. They must be maintained, recharged. If not¡­ well, even the luckiest man can find himself stranded in the storms of fate.¡± Maluck¡¯s brain clicked immediately¡ªthis explained why his luck points had been running low, why things seemed to be getting slightly off. The old man watched as realization dawned on Maluck¡¯s face. ¡®Oh, this is going better than expected.¡¯ Deciding to really sell it, he gestured toward the bracelet. The old man leaned closer, his eyes glinting with an ancient, knowing light. ¡°Tell me, have you noticed¡­ strange occurrences? Things that seem too perfectly timed, too coincidental to be mere chance?¡± He paused, letting the words linger in the air like smoke from an old incense. ¡°Perhaps, you¡¯ve felt an unseen hand guiding you, or a voice in your mind telling you what to do?¡± He leaned back, the smile on his face both comforting and unsettling. ¡°Fate is like a river, benefactor. It flows in mysterious ways, twisting and turning with currents you can¡¯t see, but always leading you somewhere. Perhaps you¡¯ve felt its current¡­ pulling you toward something greater than you ever imagined?¡± His voice lowered, almost to a whisper, as if sharing an ancient secret. ¡°When the stars align, and the right choices are made, things¡­ things begin to fall into place. Your actions ripple out, touching the unseen threads of destiny. Do you feel it? That subtle shift, the sense that things are beginning to make sense in ways you cannot fully grasp yet?¡± He gave a knowing nod, his expression unreadable. ¡°If you pay attention, the universe will show you what you must do. But be warned¡ªsometimes, the answers come in ways we least expect.¡± Maluck nodded enthusiastically. ¡°Yes! That¡¯s exactly what¡¯s been happening!¡± The old man smiled knowingly, as if he had expected this. ¡°Ah, then it is working. You are in harmony with its energy. But be mindful¡ªthe forces of luck are like the tides. They must be respected, or they will turn against you.¡± Maluck took this all in, eyes wide, completely believing every word. The old man, meanwhile, was internally patting himself on the back. ¡®Damn, I¡¯m good at this.¡¯ Maluck listened intently, nodding along. It all made perfect sense. At least, to him. The old man, meanwhile, couldn¡¯t believe his luck. He had just made up half of that on the spot. After finishing his totally-not-bullshit explanation, the con man watched as Maluck¡¯s eyes glazed over for a brief second. And then¡ª [System Task Accomplished] Find Your Benefactors + 10 Luck Points. Maluck grinned as the notification flashed in his mind. ¡®Yes! Finally, I have luck points again!¡¯ The old man, noticing Maluck¡¯s happy expression, took the opportunity to strike again. ¡°The old man¡¯s eyes sparkled with an enigmatic wisdom as he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. ¡°Ah, you seek the favor of fate, yes? The bracelet has served you well, but even the strongest of charms can grow weary, like a candle that burns too long without a fresh breath of flame.¡± He stroked his long, flowing beard thoughtfully, as if considering something far beyond the mortal realm. ¡°If you wish, I can help recharge the bracelet¡¯s luck for you. A small ritual, a simple touch of the ancient forces that flow through us all. It¡¯s not difficult¡­ but only if your heart is in the right place.¡± Maluck¡¯s ears perked up. ¡°Oh? That¡¯d be great.¡± ¡®This could be an easy way to boost my Luck Level without grinding for points.¡¯ The old man nodded sagely, his eyes narrowing with an air of deep, ancient knowledge. ¡°Yes, yes¡­ the energy to restore balance to such an item requires more than mere will¡ªit requires sacrifice, power, and the alignment of forces not easily harnessed.¡± He paused dramatically, stroking his chin as if pondering a great mystery. ¡°Ah, but fear not, for I am capable. However, it will take time¡ªtime to prepare, to call upon the ancient currents that bind us all. For such rituals do not rush. They flow like a river, steady and unyielding.¡± His gaze grew distant, as if he were looking far beyond the room, seeing things unseen by others. ¡°There are¡­ rare ingredients required. Ingredients that are difficult to come by, hidden away in forgotten corners of the world. Quite expensive, too, I¡¯m afraid. Some may call them priceless, but you will see¡­ the cost is always higher than you expect.¡± He leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a whisper, as if sharing a secret only the truly enlightened could understand. ¡°But it is worth it, for in this exchange, great power will flow your way. Fortune¡¯s tides will shift, and your luck will be renewed.¡± He stepped back, a knowing smile crossing his face. ¡°It¡¯s not a simple thing, but nothing worth having ever is, hmm?¡± Maluck squinted. ¡°How expensive?¡± The old man pretended to hesitate, his face contorting into an expression of deep reluctance, as though the very mention of money caused him great pain. He looked down at the bracelet, then back up at Maluck with an almost apologetic gaze, as if burdened by the task of asking. ¡°To restore it to its full strength, to truly awaken its potential?¡± he said slowly, his voice dropping to a near whisper, as though he were imparting a sacred secret. ¡°One thousand dollars, my friend.¡± He sighed dramatically, his eyes narrowing with a touch of sorrow. ¡°But you must understand, it is not simply for the physical materials. No, no. It is for the energy, the power of the universe itself. To call upon these forces, to align fate in your favor, requires more than just currency. It is the balance of energy that we must honor.¡± His hand waved dismissively as if trying to brush away the weight of the offer, yet his gaze remained steady. ¡°But of course, this is not a small price to pay. Great fortune, after all, is never attained without some cost.¡± He sighed dramatically. ¡°But! I cannot ask this of you, benefactor. You have already done so much for us.¡± Maluck, without a second thought, shook his head. ¡°No, no. I insist.¡± ¡®This is a bargain! A thousand bucks to boost my luck again? Maybe it¡¯ll move it up two or three levels!¡¯ The old man nearly choked on his own saliva as Maluck peeled off a thousand dollars from his remaining cash roll and handed it over. As the old man accepted the cash, his sharp eyes locked onto the rest of the stack. ¡®Ohhh, this is definitely an opportunity.¡¯ He forced a solemn nod, his fingers gently brushing the bills as though handling a sacred relic, their significance far beyond mere paper. ¡°Very well,¡± he murmured, his voice thick with reverence. ¡°Come back tomorrow night, when the shop is closed, and I will have everything prepared.¡± He stepped back, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he were sealing some ancient pact between them. ¡°It will be a time of alignment, when the world is quiet and the energies flow freely. Only then can we truly harness the luck you seek.¡± His eyes twinkled with an unfathomable depth, as if he knew that tomorrow¡¯s ritual would change everything. ¡°You must trust in the process. The universe will guide us, but you must be ready to receive it.¡± With that, he turned and vanished into the back of the shop, the faint sound of wind chimes tingling softly in the background, as if the very air had thickened with the promise of something mystical unfolding. Maluck nodded eagerly. ¡°Sounds good. Do I need to take the bracelet off now?¡± He was really reluctant to give it up, even for a moment. The old man raised his hands with an almost dramatic flourish, his eyes gleaming with ancient knowledge. ¡°No, no!¡± he said, his voice filled with urgency. ¡°Keep it on. It must absorb your essence overnight. Without this, the ritual may not take full effect.¡± His fingers trembled slightly as he pointed to the bracelet, now resting in Maluck¡¯s palm, almost as if the object itself were alive. ¡°The bracelet needs your energy, your intent. It is not just an object, but a vessel. If you remove it, its connection to you will weaken. The stars must align with you wearing it, drawing in your will, your spirit. Only then can the luck truly flow.¡± He paused, a knowing look crossing his face as he gazed deeply into Maluck¡¯s eyes. ¡°Trust the process. Let it bond with you, and the change will come. But only if you leave it undisturbed.¡± Maluck had no idea what that meant, but it sounded mystical enough to be legit. ¡°Alright, then. See you tomorrow night.¡± As he walked out of the shop, the old man watched him go, still marveling at his incredible luck. ¡®Easiest thousand dollars I¡¯ve ever made. And tomorrow? I might just make more.¡¯ *** Chapter 15 Excited for the bracelet recharge, Maluck weighed his options. Driving all the way back to Edmonton? Absolutely not. He had already been in the car way too much today, and while his bad luck suppression had kept everything running smoothly, there was no way in hell he was tempting fate on another long drive right before messing with his luck levels again. Instead, he decided to spend the night in Calgary. A quick search led him to a three-star hotel with a bland but acceptable name¡ªThe Pretty Good Western. ¡°Well,¡± Maluck muttered, ¡°at least they¡¯re honest.¡± He checked in, got his key card, and made his way to his perfectly average hotel room. It was exactly what you¡¯d expect from a mid-range hotel¡ªa queen-sized bed with questionable sheets, a TV that somehow only had two working channels, and a bathroom that smelled faintly of industrial cleaner and regret. Tossing his bag onto the chair, Maluck plopped onto the bed and let out a long, satisfied sigh. Then he noticed something. His Luck Points had dropped to 9. His eyebrow twitched. ¡°System, is there any way to turn off the fact that my Bad Luck Points automatically eat my Luck Points?¡± [System Response] ¡°Yes. You can toggle it on and off.¡± Maluck blinked. ¡°¡­Oh.¡± He had assumed this was just how things worked. Like fate taxes or something. ¡°Well, turn it off, then.¡± [System Response] ¡°Toggled off.¡± ¡®Perfect.¡¯ He wasn¡¯t leaving his hotel room, so even if bad luck did happen, what was the worst that could go wrong? The hotel WiFi sucked? Already expected. The vending machine ate his money? He wasn¡¯t getting snacks. A power outage? Wouldn¡¯t be the first time. Whatever it was, he could deal with it. Now that he had secured his luck points, Maluck let himself fully relax. It had been one hell of a day. He woke up with a hangover. Discovered he had a literal System. Risked two grand at a casino and somehow walked away with more money. Took a long-ass drive. Survived Calgary¡¯s cursed road system. Ate a burger so massive it could feed a family of four. Tracked down a man who changed his life. And tomorrow? Tomorrow was going to be even better. Because tomorrow, his bracelet was getting recharged. Smiling to himself, Maluck kicked off his shoes, stretched out across the bed, and let sleep take him. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. *** Maluck groggily opened his eyes, blinking against the unforgiving glow of the hotel room ceiling light. He felt groggy, stiff, and vaguely confused¡ªwhich meant it was time for the most important morning ritual of all. Checking his status screen. Logically, he knew nothing should have changed overnight. He had just been sleeping. But in his defense, yesterday had been his first day with a System, and part of him was low-key terrified that it had all been a really weird, hyper-realistic dream. Or worse¡ªhe¡¯d wake up to some ¡°Balance Patch¡± message telling him that the System had been removed for fairness reasons. He mentally pulled up his stats. Luck Level: 1 (44/100) Kinda Unlucky ¨C You step in a puddle right as you leave home, but at least it¡¯s just water. Probably. BAD LUCK POINTS (BP): 10 Luck Points (LP): 9 ¡°Great. I¡¯m already in the negatives.¡± It was weirdly comforting, though. Like the universe was reminding him that he was still himself. Stats: ?Strength (Str): 1.07 ¨C Slightly stronger than the average guy, but not enough to be impressive. ?Intelligence (Int): 1.15 ¨C Knows a lot of trivia. Probably too much. ?Charisma (Cha): 0.95 ¨C Not actively repelling people, but also not charming his way into free drinks. ?Health (HP): 0.99 ¨C Surprisingly not dead. ?Dexterity (Dex): 1.05 ¨C Can handle a game controller pretty well, but don¡¯t expect parkour. ?Wisdom (Wis): 1.10 ¨C Has decent instincts. Also remembers the best gas station snacks. ?Constitution (Con): 1.02 ¨C Can eat four burger patties and only mildly regret it. ?Endurance (End): 1.05 ¨C Won¡¯t pass out after one flight of stairs, but two? Risky. ?Perception (Per): 1.08 ¨C Notices weird stuff, like how hotel artwork is always unsettling. Inventory: ?Bad Luck Bracelet ¨C The reason he¡¯s not completely doomed. ?The Probability Charm ¨C 10% boost to things he wants to happen. At least the bracelet and charm were still there. Maluck sighed in relief, stretching out in bed. ¡°Okay, still real. No nerfs. No sudden cosmic pranks.¡± And now? It was time to get up and prepare for whatever adventures today had in store. *** Maluck mentally pulled up the System Store. He wasn¡¯t expecting much¡ªhis Luck Points balance was sadder than an empty fridge at the end of the month¡ªbut checking was free, and who knew? Maybe the System would throw him a pity deal. System Store ?(50 LP)The Luck Siphon Stone ¨C When touched to someone, it sucks off their luck and adds it to your own. ?(300 LP) The Fortune Coin ¨C Flip it, and you automatically win any bet, gamble, or decision. Lands on its edge when things get really weird. ?(100 LP) The Ace of Fate ¨C A playing card that always appears in your hand when you need a perfect card. Works even outside of card games. ?(10 LP) Refresh choices? ¨C Not happy? Try your luck. Maluck exhaled through his nose. ¡°Okay. All of this looks insanely cool. And I can afford¡­ absolutely nothing.¡± The cheapest thing was the Luck Siphon Stone, and even that was five times what he had. He thought back to yesterday, when he had dumped all his points into leveling up his Luck Level. ¡®I kinda wish I hadn¡¯t done that.¡¯ Sure, long-term investment was probably smart, but he was now broke in the short-term, and saving up LP felt like a painfully slow grind. At least there was no food-based System Task today. That was a huge relief. After what happened yesterday, he half-expected the System to hit him with something like: [System Task] Breakfast of Champions ¨C Order the most calorie-dense breakfast possible. Extra points if you regret it. But thankfully, the System remained silent. ¡°Alright, then. Let¡¯s go hit up the hotel restaurant. And after that, straight to the bank. I really don¡¯t want to be carrying around $8,000 in cash.¡± He couldn¡¯t shake the paranoia of having that much physical money on him. The last thing he needed was for bad luck to suddenly kick in, and for him to end up as one of those ¡®man loses life savings in freak accident¡¯ news headlines. The hotel restaurant was about as middle-of-the-road as its name implied. A basic buffet spread¡ªeggs, bacon, sausages, toast, a waffle station that looked like it had seen things, and a fruit bowl that had definitely been refilled with the same sad pineapple chunks since 1998. Maluck loaded up on bacon and eggs, grabbed a coffee that was technically drinkable, and sat down at a sticky table that had been wiped down but still felt questionable. ¡®Alright. This is fine. Not great, not terrible. Three stars out of five. Just like the hotel.¡¯ Halfway through his bacon, he kept glancing around¡ªas if he expected some grand event to pop up. But no, the universe was letting him enjoy a normal meal. He didn¡¯t trust it. But he appreciated it. Breakfast done, he made his way to the nearest bank branch. It was busy, as expected. Calgary wasn¡¯t exactly a sleepy town. He waited in line behind a guy arguing about overdraft fees, a woman depositing way too many coins, and a senior who was clearly just here to chat with the teller. When it was finally his turn, Maluck stepped up and slid his cash across the counter. ¡°I¡¯d like to deposit this.¡± He handed over $5500, deciding that having a small stash of cash on hand was always a good idea. The teller barely blinked, used to people bringing in sketchy amounts of cash. ¡°Anything else?¡± Maluck hesitated. ¡°Uh¡­ no.¡± He almost asked for a roll of lucky pennies, but even he knew that was pushing it. Within a few minutes, his money was safely in the bank. His wallet? Significantly lighter. His stress levels? Significantly lower. ¡°Alright,¡± he muttered as he left the bank, rolling his shoulders. ¡°Time to prepare for the big event tonight.¡± Tonight, the bracelet recharge was happening. And he was ready. *** CHAPTER 16 Returning to the Pretty Good Western, he was ready to check out. ¡°Sir, you overstayed check-out time. We¡¯ll have to charge you for another day or an overstay fee.¡± Maluck blinked. He glanced at the clock behind the desk. 12:01 PM. One. Damn. Minute. ¡°Are you kidding me?¡± he said, rubbing his temple. The clerk, a bored-looking woman who had clearly stopped caring about customer service somewhere between her first and third coffee, just shrugged. ¡°Nope.¡± Maluck exhaled slowly, like a man trying to keep his blood pressure in check. ¡°How much is the late checkout fee?¡± ¡±$50.¡± His jaw twitched. ¡±$50?! For one minute?!¡± The clerk nodded, completely unfazed. ¡°Check-out was noon. You¡¯re past that, so there¡¯s a charge.¡± Maluck ran a hand down his face. ¡°That¡¯s almost half of another night¡¯s stay! My room was $150 on promo!¡± She nodded again, still utterly indifferent. ¡°Yeah, but if you booked again, it¡¯d be $200.¡± Maluck felt a deep, primal rage stir within him. Not because he couldn¡¯t afford it¡ªhe literally had five grand freshly deposited in his bank and still had a couple thousand in cash¡ªbut because this was some absolute, corporate cash-grab bullshit. He stared at her, waiting for some sign of human decency. She offered none. And that¡¯s when the System popped up. [System Task] BRO, ARE YOU GONNA LET THESE CORPORATE SCAMMERS WALK ALL OVER YOU? HELL NO! STAND YOUR GROUND! FLEX THOSE VERBAL GAINS! MAKE ¡®EM REGRET EVEN THINKING ABOUT CHARGING YOU! THE BIGGER THE SCENE, THE BIGGER THE REWARD! MAXIMUM AGGRESSION = MAXIMUM GAINS! GET LOUD! GET INTENSE! SHOW ¡®EM WHO¡¯S BOSS! LET¡¯S GO!!! Maluck grinned. ¡®Oh, you¡¯re damn right, today was going to be different.¡¯ Time to go full Karen. *** Maluck felt the surge of pure rage flood through his System. His heart pounded like he¡¯d just dry-scooped three scoops of pre-workout, and his hands clenched into fists on instinct. His inner Gym Bro was now fully activated. He stared at the front desk clerk, who was still looking at him like she had already moved on with her life. ¡°FIFTY BUCKS?! ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!¡± She barely flinched, which only fueled his fire. [System Task Reminder] DON¡¯T LET THEM TAKE ADVANTAGE OF YOU. KICK THEIR ASSES. THE BIGGER THE SCENE, THE BETTER. THE HIGHER THE REWARD. Maluck took that personally. He slammed his hands down on the counter, shaking the little cardholder with ¡°Guest Satisfaction is Our Priority¡± written in bold-faced corporate lies. ¡°THIS IS A SHAKEDOWN! A TOTAL SCAM! I WAS ONE MINUTE LATE!¡± Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. The clerk sighed. ¡°Sir, it¡¯s policy¡ª¡± ¡°POLICY? POLICY?! WHERE¡¯S THE HUMANITY?! WHERE¡¯S THE RESPECT? WHERE¡¯S THE GUEST SATISFACTION YOU¡¯RE LYING ABOUT RIGHT HERE?!¡± He jabbed a finger at the cardholder, his voice booming through the lobby. A couple of guests waiting in line turned to watch. He had an audience now. Time to push harder. ¡°THIS IS HIGHWAY ROBBERY! THIS IS AN OUTRAGE! DO I LOOK LIKE A GUY WHO¡¯S JUST GONNA ROLL OVER AND PAY A FIFTY-DOLLAR EXTORTION FEE?! HELL NO! YOU WANNA CHARGE ME ANOTHER NIGHT? THEN BRING ME A GODDAMN SPA ROBE AND BREAKFAST IN BED!¡± A manager peeked out from the back, looking nervous. The other guests in line were now fully invested. A guy in a suit leaned toward his wife. ¡°He¡¯s got a point.¡± An elderly man whispered to his friend. ¡°I once got charged a cleaning fee for a towel stain. This kid¡¯s fighting the good fight.¡± Even the clerk was starting to look uncomfortable now. [System Task Bonus Objective Unlocked: Rally the People! The more support you get, the bigger the reward!] Oh, it was on. Maluck turned to the lobby like a man delivering a political speech. ¡°HOW MANY OF YOU HAVE BEEN HIT WITH THESE BULLSHIT FEES?! HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU BEEN CHARGED FOR ¡®AMENITIES¡¯ YOU DIDN¡¯T EVEN USE?!¡± A few nods. Some murmurs. The momentum was shifting. The manager hurried forward, pasting on the fake customer service smile of a man who just realized he had a full-blown PR situation on his hands. ¡°Sir, there¡¯s no need to raise your voice¡ª¡± ¡°I¡¯LL RAISE MY DAMN VOICE UNTIL JUSTICE IS SERVED!¡± [System Response] ¡°YOU¡¯RE KILLING IT, BRO! KEEP GOING!¡± The clerk finally cracked. ¡°Fine! FINE! We¡¯ll waive the late fee, just PLEASE leave!¡± Maluck froze for a moment. Oh. That was easy. [System Task Accomplished!] +20 Luck Points Bonus for getting other people involved + .01 Charisma Maluck grinned as he snatched his receipt and turned to the small crowd of guests. ¡°AND THAT¡¯S HOW YOU HANDLE THESE SCAMMERS. STAY STRONG, MY FRIENDS!¡± The old man clapped. Someone else nodded in silent respect. He marched out of the hotel feeling like an absolute god. No late fee. No scamming. Just raw, unfiltered victory. *** Maluck walked out of the Pretty Good Western feeling like a champion. Not only had he dodged a stupid late fee, but he had also scored a System bonus! [System Bonus] +0.01 Charisma New Charisma: 0.96 He grinned. ¡°Almost average! Hell yeah!¡± At this rate, he¡¯d be charming people left and right¡­after another forty or fifty charisma point gains. Baby steps. ¡°Alright, what now?¡± He had no clue what time the fortune shop actually closed, and the last thing he wanted was to show up too early like some eager weirdo. So, what could he do in Calgary for the day? Then it hit him. The Dice Tower. He had always wanted to check that place out, ever since he¡¯d first heard of it. But the three-hour drive (with the constant lurking threat of his terrible luck) had always been a mental block. And now that he could literally see how much bad luck he passively accumulated, he realized he had been making the right call all along. But now? Now he had luck. Now he had power. Now he was going. Maluck hopped into his car, feeling pretty damn good about life. No late checkout fee. +20 Luck Points. His Charisma was inching toward mediocrity. Today was already a win. The drive should have been uneventful, but after years of suffering through random nonsense, he knew that things going too smoothly was its own kind of threat. And right now? Everything was going way too smoothly. He pulled up his status screen while driving (which was totally safe, he reasoned, because nothing bad was happening anyway). His BP had started at 13 when he left the hotel, but now it was already ticking up. 14¡­ 15¡­ 16¡­ Maluck gripped the wheel tighter. ¡°Why is it going up so fast?¡± He glanced around, looking for the inevitable problem. The roads were clear, not a single construction detour in sight. Every light turned green just as he approached, smooth as if he were in some kind of perfectly choreographed car commercial. The highway flowed like a dream, no sudden slowdowns, no idiot drivers swerving into his lane at the last second. Even the AC in his car was working properly for once¡ªwhich never happened. He squinted at his gas meter. Still comfortably above half. Checked his phone battery. 80%. Flipped through the radio. Every song? A banger. A tiny shiver ran down his spine. And still¡ªnot a single bad thing had happened. This began to worry him, it felt like the universe was stockpiling all the bullshit to unleash it at once. A Final Destination-style catastrophe waiting to happen. He glanced at every passing car, expecting one of them to spontaneously swerve into his lane. Every overhead road sign looked like it might just fall onto his windshield. Every pigeon in the sky was a potential dive-bombing kamikaze threat. And yet? Nothing. ¡°I don¡¯t like this. I don¡¯t like this one bit.¡± It wasn¡¯t that he wanted bad luck¡ªhell no¡ªbut he was used to burning through it in small, manageable doses. A stubbed toe here, a spilled coffee there. This? This felt like pressure was building behind a dam. The BP kept ticking up. By the time he pulled into the Dice Tower parking lot, his BP was at 20. And still¡ªnot a single bad thing had happened. Maluck cut the engine, exhaled deeply, and stared at the dashboard. ¡°I don¡¯t like this. I don¡¯t like this one bit.¡± The universe was planning something. He could feel it. CHAPTER 17 He pulled into a parking spot which was perfectly located in front. ¡°Ugh. Why does it have to be so great! Does my BP still go up if I don¡¯t take the spot?¡± Deciding it wouldn¡¯t kill him, probably, he pulled in and stepped into the store. The Dice Tower was, without exaggeration, a Mecca for board games. Not those basic, kiddie board games like Monopolize (a game that destroyed friendships and took 18 years to finish) but real, high-quality games like: ?Pandemic 2024 (Now with more realistic levels of global despair!) ?Puerto Ricans (Where you try to run an economy without collapsing into financial ruin!) ?Dominions (The game of deck-building, strategy, and eventually realizing you should have picked a different strategy!) The store itself was three glorious stories of board gaming awesomeness. The Dice Tower was a behemoth, a three-story shrine to all things tabletop. The massive glass windows revealed rows upon rows of neatly organized games, towering bookshelves filled with expansions, and tables filled with people deep in strategy and dice rolls. The building itself had a sleek but cozy design, with wood-paneled walls, massive banners featuring artwork from classic games, and a big-ass d20 mounted over the entrance like a guardian watching over nerds. He stepped inside, and the smell hit him immediately¡ªnew board games, freshly brewed coffee, and a faint hint of plastic from all the card sleeves and dice sets. The floors were lined with shelves stacked with everything from casual party games to intense war simulations that required at least two PhDs and a free weekend to play properly. The main floor was all retail¡ªaisles upon aisles of board games, trading cards, and miniatures. A display in the center showed off the newest releases, with demo copies ready for customers to try. The walls were lined with massive, colorful posters of games like GloomDungeon, MegaZoo, and Twilight Inheritance, each one a promise of hours of entertainment or frustration, depending on the group you played with. If you got stuck, playing with a friend who¡¯d say, ¡®Just one more minute,¡¯ while pulling out an abacus and acting like he was decoding the Enigma machine, those games could easily stretch into 5-hour slogathons. The second floor was dedicated to hobbyists¡ªminiature painting stations, a whole wall of paint supplies, and a glass display case filled with expertly painted Wartrolls & Battlelords figures that probably cost more than his rent. The third floor was where the real magic happened. The gaming lounge. Rows of large tables set up for board game rentals, private booths for intense strategy sessions, and even a dedicated RPG section, where a group was already deep into a campaign of Caverns & Chimeras, the Dungeon Master waving his hands dramatically as he described something horrifying. The place was packed with all kinds of people¡ªveteran gamers who had memorized entire rulebooks, casual players just looking for something fun, and a few lost souls staring at a massive box labeled ¡®18-Hour Playtime¡¯ like they had just made a terrible mistake. Maluck grinned. This was his kind of place. With a few hours to kill, Maluck grabbed a game and made his way into the gaming area. He spotted three people cracking open a board game at one of the tables. He hovered for a second, weighing his options. Then, with a hesitant smile, he muttered, ¡°Screw it, let¡¯s see if my new Charisma score actually does something.¡± Board gamers were usually pretty chill, as long as you weren¡¯t a complete assbag. ¡®Charisma check versus making new board gamer friends¡­ rolled!¡¯ Maluck mentally rolled his eyes at himself. Of course, there was no actual die, but he loved the dramatic flair. He¡¯d always imagined this was how it worked in his head¡ªlike life was just a giant role-playing game and all his decisions were wrapped in cool dice rolls. He glanced at the trio, doing the mental math¡ª¡®would his charm work, or was he about to face a one-way ticket back to playing solo campaigns in his apartment with his imaginary cat.¡¯ The mental dice landed. Critical success. ¡°Hey, mind if I join?¡± They looked up, exchanged glances, and shrugged. ¡°Sure, why not?¡± A grin spread across his face as he casually slid into the conversation. ¡°So, what are we playing? Because, uh, if you guys need someone to roll badly and blame it on the dice, I¡¯m your guy.¡± He could already feel the magic of new friendships forming. This was it¡ªhe was about to be inducted into a fresh new squad. Life was about to get way more fun. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. For the next four hours, Maluck had an absolute blast. Dice were rolled, strategies were plotted, and betrayals were made (but in a fun way, not a stab-your-friends-in-the-back-and-sleep-with-one-eye-open way). And then¡ª Disaster struck. Maluck, caught up in the thrill of a particularly dramatic dice roll, made the rookie mistake of leaning in a little too far¡ªand with a horrifyingly slow-motion inevitability, his elbow nudged a can of Grepsi. The fizzy drink shot out in a perfect arc, like some tragic, overly dramatic cinematic scene, splashing across the game board with a hiss of carbonation and sticky regret. The table went silent. For a moment, time itself seemed to freeze. The dice, still mid-roll, teetered in the air like they were waiting for their final verdict. His new friends stared at the mess in stunned silence, eyes flicking between him and the drenched board game. ¡°Damn it,¡± Maluck muttered under his breath, his face flushing a deep shade of red. He already knew he was in trouble, and it wasn¡¯t just the spilled drink¡ªit was his entire reputation on the line. The silence stretched on, awkward and thick. His new companions exchanged glances, trying to decide whether to just laugh it off or to subtly begin plotting how to eject him from the social group. One of them, a guy with an unfortunate collection of novelty T-shirts, finally broke the tension. ¡°It¡¯s okay, man. Stuff happens.¡± But the damage had been done. Maluck had seen enough RPGs to know that a single bad move could ruin a whole campaign. His popularity score had taken a massive critical hit. He could practically hear the ding sound of his social standing plummeting, like a failed charisma check. His in-game character, socially speaking, was close to dying. ¡°Shit, I¡¯ll buy you a new copy,¡± he blurted, trying to salvage what little was left of his dignity. ¡°And, uh, maybe we can do a new round? You know, without any more beverage mishaps?¡± The table remained quiet for a moment longer, but this time, the silence wasn¡¯t quite so heavy. They could sense his genuine embarrassment¡ªand maybe, just maybe, that helped. Still, Maluck couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that he had just lost five levels of social XP. The game owner, a laid-back guy who had clearly seen worse board game accidents, just waved a hand. ¡°Eh, don¡¯t worry about it. It¡¯s fine. A little sticky meeple action never killed anyone.¡± But Maluck insisted. ¡°No, seriously, let me buy a replacement. Or at least an expansion pack. C¡¯mon, let me do something.¡± After some back and forth, the owner finally gave in and let Maluck buy the expansion pack for the game. Potion of Wealthiness drank. Crisis averted. And by then? It was getting late. Maluck¡¯s stomach growled loudly, loud enough that one of his new board game buddies, a guy named Greg, raised an eyebrow. ¡°Dude, was that you, or was that a monster on the third floor playing Caverns & Chimeras?¡± Maluck grinned sheepishly. ¡°That was me. I skipped lunch, and I just realized I¡¯m absolutely starving. Any good BBQ places around here? I heard Calgary has the best BBQ in the world.¡± The three of them immediately answered in perfect sync. ¡°Big Al¡¯s Smoke Pit.¡± Maluck blinked. ¡°That was¡­ weirdly unanimous.¡± Greg nodded seriously. ¡°Because it¡¯s the best. Hands down. Brisket so good it¡¯ll make you rethink your life choices. Ribs that fall off the bone like they¡¯re trying to escape directly into your mouth.¡± The girl at the table, Tanya, sighed dreamily. ¡°And the cornbread. Oh my god, the cornbread. I don¡¯t even like cornbread, and I would fight a bear for it.¡± The last guy, Lucas, leaned forward, lowering his voice like he was about to share a dark secret. ¡°And here¡¯s the thing, man. Their ribs? Way better than Edmonton¡¯s. Not even close.¡± Maluck pretended to gasp. ¡°That¡¯s blasphemy! I thought Alberta was united!¡± Lucas shook his head gravely. ¡°Not when it comes to ribs, bro. Calgary wins. Every time.¡± Maluck laughed, rubbing his hands together. ¡°Alright, I don¡¯t know anyone in town¡ªwanna go together?¡± Greg shrugged. ¡°Yeah, sure.¡± Tanya nodded. ¡°I¡¯m always down for ribs.¡± Lucas was about to ask another question, but Maluck cut him off with a grin. ¡°You know what? My treat.¡± Greg blinked. ¡°Wait, seriously?¡± Tanya raised an eyebrow. ¡°Damn, did you win big at the casino or something?¡± Maluck laughed, rubbing his hands together. ¡°Let¡¯s just say Lady Luck and I had a good night. And what¡¯s the point of winning money if you can¡¯t enjoy it with new friends, right?¡± Lucas grinned, standing up immediately. ¡°Hell yeah, man. I like your style.¡± Greg clapped him on the back. ¡°Respect. Now let¡¯s go drown ourselves in barbecue sauce.¡± Tanya was already heading for the door. ¡°Come on, before I start gnawing on this table.¡± And just like that, the board game crew had officially become the BBQ squad. Time to eat. *** Maluck pulled up to the restaurant feeling like an absolute boss. This was a new experience for him¡ªrolling up to a place in style, casually offering to cover dinner like he was some kind of high roller. Normally, he was the guy calculating whether adding guac was worth the extra two bucks. But now? Now he was the guy buying BBQ for his entire crew without even blinking. It felt amazing. It wasn¡¯t just about having extra disposable cash¡ªit was about knowing he could always get more if he needed it. If things ever got tight? Well, he could just hit the casino again. That thought alone was dangerous. ¡°I gotta be careful with that mindset,¡± he muttered to himself, half-joking, half-seriously considering whether he was about to develop a mild gambling addiction. Then again¡­ What¡¯s the point of luck if you don¡¯t use it? And now? Now they were standing outside, stomachs growling, facing an hour-long wait. Maluck gritted his teeth. This was probably his bad luck at work. He pulled up his status screen, and sure enough¡ªhis Bad Luck Points had dropped from 24 to 23. Yep. There it is. This wasn¡¯t just a normal restaurant wait. This was the exact kind of minor inconvenience that the universe loved to throw at him. He could actually pinpoint the exact moment he lost that Bad Luck Point¡ªthe moment when that last group of eight had walked in just ahead of them, snagging the last open table. Greg shook his head dramatically. ¡°This is it, guys. We¡¯re never gonna make it.¡± Tanya stared longingly at a plate of ribs someone else was eating. ¡°If I make direct eye contact with that meal, do you think they¡¯ll feel guilty and give me a bite?¡± Lucas sighed. ¡°We pulled up looking like we owned the place, and now we¡¯re out here like peasants. This is tragic.¡± Then¡ªa new System Task popped up. [System Task] A WAIT? FOR YOU? ABSOLUTELY NOT. YOU ROLLED UP HERE LIKE A KING¡ªNOW ACT LIKE ONE. SKIP THE LINE. WALK IN LIKE YOU OWN THE PLACE. MAKE THEM SEAT YOU IMMEDIATELY. SYSTEM BONUS WILL BE BASED ON PERFORMANCE. MAKE IT GLORIOUS. THE GREATER THE FLEX, THE GREATER THE REWARD. Maluck grinned. ¡®Oh, now we¡¯re talking.¡¯ He turned back to his friends, who were still grumbling about starvation. ¡°Alright, you guys wait here. I¡¯m gonna see what I can do.¡± Lucas frowned. ¡°What do you mean? You got a guy in here or something?¡± Maluck winked. ¡°Let¡¯s just say¡­ I¡¯ve got connections.¡± Did he actually have connections? No. But he did have a System that was actively encouraging him to BS his way into skipping the line. And that? That was even better. Time to work some magic. CHAPTER 18 Maluck adjusted his jacket, smoothed back his hair, and walked toward the host stand like he owned the entire damn restaurant. He wasn¡¯t just going to skip the line¡ªhe was going to do it with style. [System Task Bonus Activated: Maximize Confidence. The More Arrogant, The Better.] Oh, he could do that. He had kept around $3,000 from his gambling stash, only depositing $5,500. That meant he had room to play. And what was money if not a tool to bend the world to your will? Maluck tapped the host stand with two fingers, like a man who had absolutely no time for nonsense. The host, a guy who looked about nineteen and absolutely did not get paid enough for this, barely glanced up. ¡°Uh, yeah? It¡¯s an hour wait.¡± Maluck chuckled. A low, knowing, cocky chuckle. ¡°Yeah, see, that¡¯s not really gonna work for me.¡± The host raised an eyebrow. ¡°Uh¡­ okay?¡± Maluck leaned in slightly, lowering his voice like he was about to make a very important business deal. ¡°Why don¡¯t you call your manager over? I¡¯d like to¡­ make an offer.¡± The host looked confused but shrugged and disappeared to the back. A minute later, a middle-aged guy in a dress shirt and an expression that said ¡®I have had to deal with way too many entitled customers today¡¯ walked out. ¡°Can I help you?¡± he asked, already sounding tired. Maluck smiled, slow and deliberate, like a man who knew he was about to win. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a crisp stack of hundreds, and placed it on the stand. ¡±$1,000. Right now. Just for the table. No waiting.¡± The manager stared at the money, then at Maluck. Then back at the money. Maluck tilted his head. ¡°I assume you understand how numbers work. Four people. A thousand bucks. That¡¯s two hundred and fifty per person for a table that¡¯s literally just sitting there waiting for us.¡± The manager rubbed his jaw, glancing at the packed restaurant. ¡°It¡¯s not that simple, we have a list¡ª¡± Maluck snorted. ¡°A list? Right. Because Steve, Kareem, and Bob over there waiting in the corner are REALLY gonna tip your staff a grand, huh?¡± The manager hesitated. Maluck leaned in, voice dripping with confidence. ¡°Look, man, you can run your restaurant however you want. But you and I both know that money talks. And right now? My money is saying we should be sitting at a table instead of standing here talking about it.¡± The manager exhaled sharply, then grabbed the stack and tucked it into his pocket. ¡°Right this way, sir.¡± Maluck grinned as he turned back to his friends. Greg looked stunned. ¡°Did you just¡ª?¡± Tanya whistled low. ¡°Damn, that was smooth.¡± Lucas grinned. ¡°I respect the hustle.¡± [System Task Accomplished.] Reward Based on Performance: +50 Luck Points, +0.02 Charisma. Maluck sat down at his table like he belonged there. Because he did. *** Maluck leaned back in his chair, casually flipping through the menu, but really, he was bracing himself. So far, he¡¯d pulled off a legendary power move by skipping the line like a VIP, and he wanted to keep that momentum going. The last thing he needed was the System throwing a task at him that would make him look like an idiot in front of his new BBQ squad. Greg ordered first. ¡°I¡¯ll take the full rack of ribs with extra sauce.¡± Tanya followed. ¡°Brisket plate, mac and cheese, and cornbread.¡± If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Lucas grinned. ¡°Burnt ends and sausage platter. And yeah, cornbread too.¡± Maluck exhaled in relief. No System task. Nice. That meant he could just order normally and eat like a normal human being without¡ª [System Task Issued!] Why should they get all the good stuff, especially when you¡¯re the one paying? You deserve just as much as them. Task: Order everything they did. The entire table¡¯s worth of food. [System Bonus] +10 LP Maluck stared blankly at the glowing text in his vision. ¡°Oh, come on.¡± Of course, the System had to butt in. He was already throwing money around like a high roller¡ªbut now he had to order like an absolute glutton on top of it? He could already see it happening. If he backed out, he¡¯d lose the chance to get those Luck Points, but if he actually followed through, he was going to look completely insane. The waiter turned to him. ¡°And for you, sir?¡± Maluck sighed internally but kept his face composed. ¡°I¡¯ll have the same.¡± The waiter nodded. ¡°Oh, the brisket?¡± ¡°No. The same as the whole table.¡± The waiter¡¯s pen stopped mid-air. Greg raised an eyebrow. ¡°Wait¡­ what?¡± Tanya blinked. ¡°Uh¡­ dude, you just ordered a full rack of ribs, brisket, mac and cheese, cornbread, burnt ends, sausage platter, and, like, extra sides.¡± Lucas grinned. ¡°Respect.¡± The waiter, a young guy who looked like he was still processing the fact that Maluck had tipped $1,000 just to skip the line, slowly wrote down ¡®double order¡¯ on his notepad. ¡°Errr¡­ okay¡­¡± Maluck leaned back, feigning total confidence. ¡°If it¡¯s worth eating, it¡¯s worth eating twice.¡± Greg laughed. ¡°That¡­ might be the dumbest thing I¡¯ve ever heard. But I respect it.¡± Tanya shrugged. ¡°Hey, as long as you don¡¯t die halfway through, do your thing.¡± Lucas grinned wider. ¡°I mean, if you¡¯re paying, who am I to judge?¡± The waiter tore off the ticket and walked away, still looking mildly confused. [System Task Accomplished!] +10 Luck Points +1 Lucky Spin Maluck grinned to himself because nobody said he had to eat it all! *** The food arrived in waves, carried out by waiters who looked more like logistics coordinators for a meat festival. Plates piled high with slow-smoked perfection were carefully placed in front of them, the scent of hickory, mesquite, and caramelized barbecue sauce hitting Maluck like a divine revelation. His table? Now a shrine to excess. The ribs came out glazed to perfection, the sauce thick and sticky, pooling slightly at the edges of the plate. The meat was so tender it was practically sliding off the bone just from existing. When Greg picked up the first rib and took a bite, he didn¡¯t even have to pull¡ªthe meat just melted onto his tongue. ¡°Oh muh gawwd,¡± Greg groaned, holding up the rib like it had personally saved his life. ¡°I can hear angels singing.¡± Maluck grabbed his own rack and dug in. The sweet, smoky sauce clung to his fingers as he took his first bite. The mix of fat, spice, and slow-cooked perfection hit his taste buds like a choir of pitmasters high-fiving each other in celebration. Next up was the brisket. A thick slab of beef, smoke-ringed, with juices pooling at the edges. Tanya sliced into hers with a plastic knife that didn¡¯t even struggle¡ªthat¡¯s how tender it was. ¡°This¡­ this is what happiness tastes like,¡± she whispered, placing the first bite on her tongue and visibly ascending into another plane of existence. Maluck followed suit, letting the brisket rest on his taste buds for a moment before biting down. It was like the meat had given up all structural integrity for the sake of pure flavor. The combination of crispy bark, smoky depth, and buttery texture was borderline illegal. Then came the burnt ends and sausage platter. Lucas speared a burnt end with his fork, holding it up for admiration. ¡°Look at that caramelization. That is ART.¡± He popped it into his mouth and let out a low, appreciative growl. Maluck tried one, and immediately understood. Crispy, smoky, fatty goodness that somehow had the chew of a steak but the flavor explosion of a barbecue dream. The sausage had a deep red snap to it, and the spices kicked in just enough to wake up his senses without overwhelming the beautiful smokiness. The mac and cheese? A golden, creamy, gooey masterpiece, baked to perfection with a crispy breadcrumb crust on top. Tanya took a forkful and practically moaned. ¡°If I die right now, tell my family I went out happy,¡± she said dramatically. Maluck grabbed a scoop, and yeah¡ªthis was dangerous. Thick, melty cheese stretched between bites, perfectly seasoned, with a buttery richness that coated his mouth in pure, unfiltered comfort. Then came the cornbread. It wasn¡¯t just cornbread. It was THE cornbread. Golden-brown, with a crispy edge but a soft, fluffy inside, served with a pat of honey butter that melted instantly as soon as it hit the warm surface. Lucas broke a piece off and watched the butter pool into the bread like liquid gold. Maluck bit into his, and the balance of sweet, savory, and buttery richness sent a shiver down his spine. ¡°This is unfair,¡± he muttered between bites. ¡°How is food allowed to be this good?¡± Greg, already halfway through his plate, grinned through a mouthful of ribs. ¡°Because Calgary, my friend. Alberta does barbecue right.¡± Maluck couldn¡¯t argue with that. But then he looked down. There was still so much left. His ambitious System Task had doubled his order, and while every bite was a masterpiece, he was starting to feel the effects. He had already gotten the Luck points, so he didn¡¯t actually have to finish right? That¡¯s when a new [System Task] popped into his vision *** CHAPTER 19 [System Task Issued] A full stomach is a blessing¡ªand so is sharing it. Pack up all of your leftovers and give them to those in need. A warm meal can bring hope, and a small act of kindness can change someone¡¯s day. The more impact you make, the greater your reward. Go forth and spread some goodness. Maluck blinked at the message, then let out a slow exhale of relief. ¡°Oh, thank God.¡± For a terrifying moment, he had fully expected the System to tell him to finish every last bite of this meat mountain like some barbarian proving his worth to the gods. Instead? It wanted him to do something good. That was¡­ a first. Maluck didn¡¯t realize that Charity had issued the task. Because of the Astral Universe rules, the Virtues and Sins operated under a strict agreement¡ªif they wanted to influence the System, they all had to agree to its existence and none of them could reveal the truth to the host. Breaking that rule? Not an option. The penalty was so severe that even Pride, who thought rules were for lesser beings, wouldn¡¯t dare test it. Maluck set down his fork and leaned back in his chair, completely stuffed and 100% incapable of movement. He looked around at the devastation on the table¡ªmassive piles of untouched ribs, brisket, sausage, and sides that had barely been touched because, well¡­ Even he wasn¡¯t that hungry. Time to make use of it. He started flagging down a waiter. ¡°Hey, can I get all this packed up?¡± Tanya blinked, still half in a food coma. ¡°Wait¡­ you¡¯re taking it home?¡± Greg snorted. ¡°Dude, do you even have a fridge big enough for all this?¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°Nah, I¡¯ve got a better idea.¡± Lucas eyed him suspiciously. ¡°Oh no. What are you about to do?¡± Maluck leaned forward, lowering his voice slightly, giving the table an air of conspiracy. ¡°So, I had some pretty damn good luck at the casino yesterday, as I told you before. But I haven¡¯t always been lucky.¡± Tanya rolled her eyes. ¡°Yeah, we can tell. Your gambling ego is still going strong.¡± Maluck ignored her. ¡°What I mean is, I know what it¡¯s like to have some really, really bad luck. And I bet there are plenty of people out there right now who aren¡¯t just unlucky at the tables, but unlucky in life. So, why don¡¯t we take all this food and do something actually good with it?¡± Greg, who had been lazily stirring his drink, now looked intrigued. ¡°Like what?¡± ¡°Like taking this down to some people who could really use a hot meal. Maybe a shelter, or even just handing it out directly to folks on the street.¡± Tanya blinked. ¡°Wait¡­ you actually wanna do that?¡± Lucas leaned back, arms crossed, studying Maluck. ¡°Damn. You really are riding this casino high, huh?¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°Hey, if you¡¯re winning at life, why not share a little?¡± For a moment, there was silence. Then Greg let out a low chuckle. ¡°You know what? Screw it. I¡¯m in.¡± Tanya sighed dramatically. ¡°Ugh. Fine. But only because I already have food guilt.¡± Lucas rolled his eyes but stood up anyway. ¡°Let¡¯s do it before I change my mind.¡± [System Task Progress Updated!] Every act of kindness creates ripples beyond what you can see. The more kindness you spread, the greater your reward. Let generosity guide you, and good fortune will follow. Maluck grinned, cracking his knuckles. ¡°Alright, BBQ squad. Let¡¯s go make some people¡¯s day.¡± *** With the trunk packed full of bags of barbecue, Maluck felt like an absolute legend. He wasn¡¯t just some casino high-roller anymore¡ªhe was a man on a mission. A hero. A provider of meats. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. And he wasn¡¯t alone. The BBQ Squad had all piled into Lucas¡¯s blackout sports coupe for this philanthropic adventure. And just like that, the BBQ Squad¡¯s quest for kindness had begun. Pulling up to Helping Hands Outreach, they all hopped out of the car, each carrying bags of still-warm BBQ like they were delivering precious cargo. Maluck led the way, striding inside with the swagger of a man who had just solved world hunger. The lady at the front desk¡ªa kind-looking older woman with glasses and the air of someone who had seen too much nonsense for one lifetime¡ªlooked up as they approached. ¡°Hi there, how can I help you?¡± Maluck flashed his most charming grin. ¡°Hey, so, we¡¯ve got a bunch of top-tier BBQ from Big Al¡¯s¡ªbrisket, ribs, sausage, cornbread, the works¡ªand we¡¯d love to donate it to the folks here.¡± The woman smiled politely¡ªthe kind of politeness that immediately set off alarm bells. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s very sweet of you, dear, but we actually can¡¯t accept that.¡± Maluck blinked. Greg paused mid-bag handoff. Tanya frowned. Lucas groaned. ¡°Aw, come on, you¡¯re kidding, right?¡± ¡°Unfortunately not,¡± the woman said, still sounding far too patient for Maluck¡¯s liking. ¡°We can¡¯t take already-prepared food unless it comes from a licensed vendor. Health regulations.¡± Maluck stared at her. Then at the bags of meat in his hands. Then back at her. ¡°So you¡¯re telling me¡­ if I brought you a stack of frozen TV dinners from a grocery store, that¡¯d be fine? But because this is fresh, delicious, professionally smoked barbecue, it¡¯s illegal?¡± The woman sighed. ¡°Yes, unfortunately, that¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m telling you.¡± Maluck rubbed his forehead. ¡°But I literally just saw a guy eating out of a dumpster three blocks away.¡± She shrugged helplessly. ¡°Yeah, well, I don¡¯t make the rules, hon.¡± Greg looked personally offended. ¡°You¡¯re telling me this food isn¡¯t good enough? Have you had Big Al¡¯s brisket?¡± Tanya whispered to Maluck, ¡°Do we¡­ just leave it in the dumpster? Technically then they can take it.¡± Lucas snorted. ¡°That is the most insane loophole I¡¯ve ever heard. And there¡¯s no way I¡¯m letting this food come anywhere near a dumpster, that¡¯s sacrilege.¡± [System Task Progress Updated!] Unexpected obstacles are part of the journey. Find another way to share kindness. Maluck squinted at the glowing text in his vision. ¡°Oh, screw you.¡± The woman gave him a concerned look. ¡°Uh¡­ what?¡± Maluck waved her off. ¡°Yeah, yeah, just talking to myself. You know, normal stuff.¡± He turned on his heel, bags still in hand, feeling like a complete idiot. Greg sighed. ¡°Well. That was anticlimactic.¡± Tanya patted Maluck on the shoulder. ¡°Good effort though, boss.¡± Lucas crossed his arms. ¡°Alright, so what¡¯s Plan B?¡± Maluck took a deep breath. ¡°If we can¡¯t give it to an organization¡­ we give it out ourselves.¡± Tanya nodded slowly. ¡°I like it.¡± Greg cracked his knuckles. ¡°Alright. BBQ Squad, let¡¯s hit the streets.¡± And just like that, their misguided but well-meaning soup kitchen mission had turned into something even better. Because if the rules said they couldn¡¯t donate it? They¡¯d just deliver it personally. *** The BBQ Squad rolled up to the nearest park, which, by daylight, was probably a lovely, family-friendly spot with ducks and joggers. At night? Whole different vibe. The moment Maluck stepped out of the car, he did a quick mental scan of his surroundings. ?Sketchy-looking playground equipment? ? ?A guy talking to a tree like it owed him money? ? ?A shopping cart with at least six unidentifiable objects taped to it? ? ?A group of dudes who were either a very chill boy band or a meth gang? ? Yep. This was definitely a downtown Calgary park at night. Greg whistled low. ¡°So, uh¡­ this is where we¡¯re doing this?¡± Tanya crossed her arms. ¡°You got a better idea?¡± Lucas shrugged. ¡°Hey, meat¡¯s meat. People¡¯ll come.¡± And they did. Because if there¡¯s one universal truth, it¡¯s this: You don¡¯t need a banner when you¡¯re holding bags of still-warm barbecue. The homeless folks in the park¡ªsome sleeping on benches, some clustered around makeshift fire pits, some just wandering¡ªnoticed immediately. A few at first. Then a lot. Even the junkies, who had looked way too out of it to care about food, started sniffing the air like cartoon characters being lifted off the ground by an invisible scent trail. One guy, wearing a jacket that looked like it had seen three decades of war, shuffled up first. ¡°What¡­ uh, what¡¯s all this?¡± Maluck grinned, holding up a bag. ¡°Free BBQ, my guy. You hungry?¡± The man stared at him, like Maluck had just said he was giving out gold bars and not pulled pork sandwiches. ¡°Wait¡­ for real?¡± Tanya nodded. ¡°No catch. No preaching. Just food.¡± The guy didn¡¯t even hesitate¡ªhe grabbed a plate, sniffed it like he was verifying it wasn¡¯t some elaborate scam, then took a bite. His eyes actually rolled back. ¡°Oh. Oh, this is¡ª¡± he took another bite, shaking his head like he was physically trying to process how good it was. Greg grinned. ¡°Damn right it¡¯s good.¡± That was all it took. Within minutes, the park was buzzing. People came from every direction¡ªsome cautious, some casually sauntering up like they¡¯d totally been planning on running into a surprise BBQ buffet tonight. One guy, who looked like he had just been mid-sprint for literally no reason, skidded to a stop, pointing. ¡°Yo, you guys got ribs?¡± Lucas held up a rack. ¡°Oh, we got ribs.¡± ¡°Ohhh shiiii¡ª¡± the guy immediately sat down cross-legged like he had just discovered the meaning of life. Maluck, meanwhile, kept an eye on his status screen. [System Task Progress: Spreading Kindness in Action] And, sure enough, his Luck Points were ticking upward. +1. +2. +3 ¡­.. He felt it. Like some cosmic force was actually rewarding him for this. But he also saw something else happening. His Bad Luck Points weren¡¯t rising. For the first time since he¡¯d gotten the System¡­ he wasn¡¯t generating new bad luck. He paused mid-handout, realization hitting him like a freight train. ¡°Wait a second¡­ is this how normal people live?¡± Tanya nudged him. ¡°What?¡± Maluck blinked, then shook his head. ¡°Nothing. Just¡­ weirdly good karma right now.¡± Lucas raised an eyebrow. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s usually what happens when you¡¯re not a degenerate gambler.¡± Maluck snorted. ¡°Oh, shut up and hand out more cornbread.¡± The night wore on, but honestly? This might¡¯ve been the best thing Maluck had done all day. As the last of the BBQ was handed out, Maluck felt a weird sense of satisfaction settle over him. Not just because of the good deed, or because watching people devour brisket like it was their last meal on Earth was entertaining, but because something in his System interface flickered. [System Task Accomplished!] +26 Luck Points +0.01 Wisdom Maluck grinned. ¡°Hell yeah.¡± Tanya tilted her head. ¡°What?¡± Maluck snapped back to reality. ¡°Oh, uh, just realizing that feeding people is kinda awesome.¡± Greg stretched his arms. ¡°Yeah, and it was easier than I thought. Just show up with food and people magically appear.¡± Lucas smirked. ¡°That¡¯s how BBQ works, man. It¡¯s the great equalizer.¡± Maluck felt an odd sense of peace settle over him. Maybe, doing good things actually wasn¡¯t a bad way to repay the System. *** CHAPTER 20 As the BBQ Squad turned to leave, Maluck felt good. Really good. He had racked up 26 Luck Points, increased his Wisdom, made some people happy, and¡ªfor the first time in forever¡ªhe wasn¡¯t immediately being smacked down by the universe. Life was good. And then¡­ A group of sketchy-looking guys emerged from the shadows. They weren¡¯t big, they weren¡¯t imposing, but they had the very specific energy of people who had made at least one truly terrible life choice that day. One of them, a guy in an oversized hoodie that looked like it had never been washed, nodded toward them. ¡°Hey, you guys were the ones handing out free BBQ, right?¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°Yep, that was us.¡± The BBQ Squad also smiled, expecting some gratitude¡ªmaybe a ¡°thanks, man¡± or a ¡°that was nice of you.¡± Instead, Hoodie Guy crossed his arms. ¡°Yeah, well, we didn¡¯t get no free BBQ. So¡­ why don¡¯t you buy us some?¡± ¡®The hell?¡¯ Maluck¡¯s brain did a record scratch. ¡°Wait¡­ what?¡± Greg, still riding the high of charity, blinked. ¡°Uh¡­ yeah, sorry, man, we¡¯re kinda out.¡± Tanya frowned. ¡°Did you not see the part where we were giving it away? It was free. You could¡¯ve just walked up and taken some.¡± Lucas rubbed his temples. ¡°Oh my god, we¡¯re about to get mugged over brisket, aren¡¯t we?¡± That¡¯s when a System Task popped up in Maluck¡¯s vision. [System Task] HELL NO, BRO. DON¡¯T EVEN THINK ABOUT HANDING OVER YOUR CASH TO SOME PUNKS System bonus to be determined based on result. This wasn¡¯t Kindness¡¯ work anymore. Wrath was in charge now. And he had no patience for nonsense. Maluck didn¡¯t know this, and even if did, it wouldn¡¯t change the situation. Maluck exhaled slowly, rubbing his face. ¡°Alright, guys, listen, we¡¯re not giving you any money.¡± Hoodie Guy scoffed. ¡°Oh yeah?¡± One of the other dudes, who was somehow both skinnier and sketchier, pulled out what looked like a chipped kitchen knife. ¡°Nah, we¡¯re serious. Hand over your wallets, and we¡¯ll go buy our own damn barbecue. Or whatever else we want.¡± The BBQ Squad immediately tensed. Greg froze. ¡°Oh shit.¡± Tanya whispered. ¡°What the hell? We literally just gave away food for free. How is this our reward?¡± Lucas stared at the knife. ¡°Bro, did you actually steal that from your mom¡¯s kitchen? Because that thing looks like it¡¯s been used to cut onions more than it¡¯s been used to threaten people.¡± Maluck sighed dramatically. ¡°Come on, man. You¡¯re really pulling a knife over ribs? This is what you¡¯re doing with your life?¡± Hoodie Guy grinned. ¡°Ain¡¯t about the ribs, man. It¡¯s about respect.¡± ¡°Respect?¡± Maluck repeated, deadpan. ¡°You¡¯re mugging boardgamers outside a soup kitchen. I don¡¯t think ¡®respect¡¯ is a word you get to use here.¡± Greg, still processing the insanity of the situation, whispered. ¡°Dude, can we not antagonize them while they have a knife?¡± Maluck ignored him. Because these guys? They weren¡¯t exactly gang-affiliated bruisers. They were four shaky, underfed guys with the collective muscle mass of a wet paper towel. The only problem was the knife. Even if it looked like it had spent the last decade cutting discount steaks, it was still a knife. And Maluck? He wasn¡¯t about to get stabbed over brisket. But he also wasn¡¯t handing over his wallet. So yeah. Time to play this smart. *** Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. Maluck had been in bad situations before. But never had a night gone from ¡®feel-good charity event¡¯ to ¡®potential stabbing¡¯ so damn fast. The four twiggy-looking guys were not exactly SFB contenders, but one of them had a knife, and that changed things. Even if the knife looked like it had been used more for cutting open cardboard than actual intimidation, it was still a knife. Maluck¡¯s brain went into overdrive. He wasn¡¯t a martial artist, wasn¡¯t some action hero¡ªbut he had a few things on his stat sheet that were actually useful. And this? This was definitely trouble. *** Alright. Time to work smart. Maluck didn¡¯t react right away. Instead, he raised his hands, looking calm. Not scared. Just¡­ waiting. Knife Guy grinned. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what I thought. Now, wallets¡ª¡± Maluck made his move. Not with a kick. Not with a punch. With a bag of BBQ garbage. Full force. Right into the dude¡¯s face. See, when you feed an entire park full of hungry homeless people, they aren¡¯t exactly cleaning up after themselves. Bones, empty sauce packets, and crumpled napkins were everywhere. And because Maluck had actual manners, he had bagged everything up before they left. Turns out? That decision just saved his ass. SPLAT. Sauce, grease, and sticky barbecue remnants EXPLODED across the guy¡¯s face. He stumbled back, gagging, cursing, wiping his face¡ªwaving the knife wildly, but now he had a new problem. His vision? Full of BBQ sauce and shame. Maluck didn¡¯t waste the moment. One quick step forward, and BAM¡ªhe grabbed the dude¡¯s wrist, twisting it hard. The knife clattered to the ground. Then he stepped forward aggressively, his face hard, as if to tell them, this wasn¡¯t going to end well for them. Greg, eyes wide, whispered, ¡°Did you just¡­ weaponize trash?¡± ¡°Damn right I did.¡±. Lucas looked at the first guy, who was now wiping sauce off his face and looking PISSED. ¡°Yo, I think we broke him emotionally.¡± The other three would be muggers hesitated, seeing their fearless leader get taken out by literal garbage. Tanya whispered, ¡°Okay, uh, what¡¯s Plan B?¡± Lucas held up a beer bottle. ¡°I vote we run.¡± Greg snorted. ¡°You always vote to run.¡± Maluck, ignoring their chatter, stepped forward, picking up the fallen knife. Then he grinned. ¡°So, boys¡­ what was the plan here? You wanted BBQ money? Because it looks like you just got BBQ trash instead.¡± Sketchy Knife Guy gagged on sauce, looking completely thrown off. One of his friends muttered, ¡°Dude, just¡­ let¡¯s go.¡± Sketchy Knife Guy wiped his shame filled face and said, ¡°Screw this, man. Let¡¯s go.¡± And just like that¡ª They RAN. Like absolute cowards. Lucas let out a relieved breath. ¡°Okay, real talk¡ªdid you just defeat a mugger with a bag of trash?¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°I told you guys never underestimate the power of BBQ.¡± Tanya shook her head. ¡°I am never getting in a fight with you near a food court.¡± Greg laughed. ¡°At least we don¡¯t have to deal with them anymore.¡± Lucas looked at the kitchen knife and inspected it. ¡°Yo, this thing really is trash. I wouldn¡¯t even cut onions with this.¡± [System Task Accomplished!] +20 Luck Points +0.02 Dexterity +0.01 Perception Improvisation Skill (Garbage Combat Unlocked) ** Maluck pocketed the Luck Points, still grinning. Lucas sighed. ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s get outta here before something even weirder happens.¡± Tanya gave Maluck a look. ¡°So¡­ you just casually know how to fight with trash?¡± ¡°You gotta use what you¡¯ve got.¡± Maluck smirked. ¡°And what I had? Was sauce.¡± The BBQ Squad rolled back into the restaurant parking lot, still buzzing from the absolute craziness that had just unfolded. It had been one hell of a night. They had gone from a casual board game session to a BBQ feast to accidentally running a charity drive to getting mugged in the dumbest way possible. And now? Now they were just exhausted, covered in lingering BBQ smells, and really, really looking forward to sleeping in their own beds. Greg leaned against his car, stretching. ¡°So. Uh. I think that was the weirdest night of my life.¡± Tanya snorted. ¡°Same. I mean, I expected a fun dinner, maybe a round of Dicey Dungeons. Not¡­ all of that.¡± Lucas rubbed his face. ¡°Bro, we literally fought off a mugging with garbage. What even is our life?¡± Maluck grinned, still high on the adrenaline rush. ¡°See? Board games bring people together.¡± Lucas gave him a look. ¡°Yeah, and ribs turn people into violent criminals, apparently.¡± Tanya laughed, shaking her head. ¡°Alright, boys. I¡¯m out. I need sleep and possibly therapy.¡± They all said their goodbyes, exchanged numbers, and promised to meet up again for another game night soon¡ªpreferably one without life-threatening experiences. Greg pointed at Maluck before getting into his car. ¡°Try not to get into any more fights over meat, alright?¡± Maluck smirked. ¡°No promises.¡± With that, the BBQ Squad split up, each heading off into the night. Maluck, however, wasn¡¯t done. Far from it.Because he had unfinished business. He looked at the time. It had to be past closing time, by now right? Perfect. Time to go recharge his bracelet. He climbed into his car, grinning like a man on a mission. Tonight had been insane, ridiculous, and completely unexpected. And now? Now it was about to get even better. *** CHAPTER 21 Maluck pulled up to the Chinese fortune shop, grinning like a man on a mission.. His tires gave a little squeak as he parked¡ªprobably a sign, but of what, he had no idea. The neon sign that usually buzzed with a bright, welcoming glow read ¡°OPEN¡±¡ªbut tonight, it was dark. His timing was perfect. The lack of light was a sign that the shop had closed for the night. The dimly lit street gave off a soft, almost eerie vibe as the streetlights flickered slightly, casting long shadows on the sidewalk. Maluck approached the pawn shop''s front door with quiet steps, his thoughts racing. He pressed his hand on the door, feeling the cool metal handle beneath his fingers, and the faint hum of electricity that hinted at the lights flickering inside. He smiled. Timing was everything. Tonight had been wild¡ªa rollercoaster of BBQ, board games, and attempted muggings¡ªbut now, he was about to power up his Bad Luck bracelet like some anime protagonist unlocking his next transformation. Any second now, some unseen narrator should be yelling, ¡°This isn¡¯t even his final form!¡± He flexed his fingers, staring down at the bracelet like it was about to start glowing and whispering ancient secrets. This thing had already made him feel like a high-roller at the casino, but if he could actually juice it up? He was about to become the protagonist of gambling¡ªslot machines trembling at his approach, dice rolling only sixes, dealers sweating as he walked in. With a deep breath, he stepped forward and pushed open the door. The little shop bell jingled softly, the air inside thick with incense and the scent of old books. Somewhere in the dimly lit room, fate¡ªor at least a grandmaster of mysticism ¡ªwas waiting. Or so he thought. As he stepped out of the car, something in his System flickered. [System Task Issued] THIS LYING PIECE OF GARBAGE IS SCAMMING YOU. CALL HIM OUT. TEAR HIS SCHEME APART. MAKE HIM WISH HE¡¯D NEVER TRIED TO RIP YOU OFF. THE HARDER YOU RUIN HIS DAY, THE BIGGER YOUR REWARD. NOW GO BREAK HIM. Maluck froze mid-step. ¡°¡­Wait. WHAT?¡± He blinked at the glowing System prompt, re-reading it twice. Scammed? The bracelet guy? The mystical old man who had sold him this artifact of destiny? Maluck paused, rubbing his temples. ¡°¡­So when exactly were you gonna TELL ME THIS?¡± Silence. Then, after a beat¡ª [System Response] OH, SO YOU JUST LET YOURSELF GET PLAYED? SHOULD¡¯VE SEEN IT COMING. MAYBE NEXT TIME YOU WON¡¯T BE SO NAIVE. Maluck stared at the response. ¡°Oh, so y¡¯all just let me walk into this nonsense?¡± [System Response] CONSIDER IT A VALUABLE LESSON. PAINFUL? YEAH. NECESSARY? ALSO YEAH. BUT NOW YOU KNOW. TIME TO PAY THIS SCAMMER BACK¡ªWITH INTEREST. Maluck scowled. ¡°Oh yeah? You know what else is valuable? MY DAMN MONEY.¡± [System Response] DAMN RIGHT IT IS! Now go get your revenge. Maluck cracked his knuckles. Fine. If the System wanted him to ruin this guy¡¯s night, then Maluck was about to put on a show. He pushed open the door, ringing the little bell as he stepped inside. *** What he didn¡¯t know was that between the System activation and the fact that the Sins and Virtues needed some sort of talisman to imprint their blessings on the Bad Luck bracelet (which, let¡¯s face it, had originally just been garbage), had been chosen. The Sins were all pissed off that someone was taking credit for all their awesomeness. Wrath, especially, couldn¡¯t handle it anymore. He was practically shaking with rage. How dare some scammer think he could take credit for his powers? This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. The Virtues, on the other hand, hadn¡¯t bothered to remind Maluck about the details. What did it hurt if someone else got the credit? They were the Virtues, after all, and they didn¡¯t need the spotlight. But now that Wrath couldn¡¯t take it anymore, he had issued the System task. Wrath wasn¡¯t known for his patience, and he was damn sure not going to let this slide any longer. Especially when that goody goody Virtue had issued that Bullshit ¡°Thank Your Benefactors¡± task! The Virtues might have been more patient, but Wrath? Well, Wrath got results. *** The old Chinese man looked up from behind the counter, smiling warmly¡ªtoo warmly. ¡°Ahh, benefactor! You have returned!¡± Maluck grinned back, all teeth. ¡°Oh, you know it. Ready to get my bracelet recharged.¡± The old man nodded sagely, his eyes twinkling with a mysterious knowing. ¡°Yes, yes, of course. But as I mentioned before, the process requires¡­ special ingredients. Ingredients so rare, they are whispered about only in the hidden corners of forgotten temples, where the air tastes of ancient secrets and the earth hums with lost knowledge. Very rare. Very expensive.¡± He paused, stroking his long, silvery beard, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, as if the words themselves were sacred. ¡°The stars align for only a few who dare to seek them, and even then, the cost is not always paid in gold, but in¡­ other ways.¡± Maluck folded his arms. ¡°Oh yeah? How expensive?¡± The old man sighed dramatically, as if the weight of the cosmos was on his shoulders. ¡°Ah¡­ we are so close,¡± he muttered, his voice low and reverent, like he was speaking to the very fabric of the universe itself. ¡°Perhaps another thousand dollars. Yes, that should be enough to channel the energies correctly, to align the forces of fate just as the stars themselves are poised to shift. The balance of fortune will be restored, and your luck¡­ it will flourish.¡± He raised his hands, palms open as if inviting the unseen powers to descend, his eyes gleaming with the promise of untold wonders. [System Task Updated] Absolutely COOK this man! Bonus rewards for style points. Maluck¡¯s smile widened. ¡°Huh. That¡¯s funny.¡± The old man blinked. ¡°What is funny, benefactor?¡± ¡°Oh, just that my System literally just called you a scammer.¡± Silence. Then¡ª ¡±¡­I do not understand what you mean.¡± Maluck leaned forward, resting his arms on the counter. ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t care if you do. So, tell me. Are these ¡®rare¡¯ ingredients as rare as the ones in my fridge? You know, air and disappointment?¡± The old man visibly tensed. Maluck kept going. ¡°Or is this another case of the ¡®ancient energies¡¯ being stored in an envelope marked ¡®Rent Money¡¯?¡± The old man laughed nervously. ¡°Ah, benefactor, you joke too much¡ª¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m dead serious, my guy. And guess what?¡± Maluck grinned wider. ¡°I¡¯ve been an idiot for a full twenty-four hours thinking this bracelet actually had some mystical power.¡± He tapped the bracelet. ¡°But it doesn¡¯t, does it?¡± The old man said nothing. Maluck crossed his arms. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t go quiet on me now. Let¡¯s hear it. You gonna tell me it was forged in the mountains of Ancient Feng Shui? Blessed by the Luck Dragon of the East? Powered by the last tears of Confucius?¡± The old man swallowed. ¡°¡­It is a very special bracelet.¡± ¡°Yeah. Special in the sense that I paid you two grand for something that probably came from the clearance bin at a souvenir shop.¡± The old man hesitated. Then, he did what all scammers do when they¡¯re caught¡ªhe doubled down. ¡°You do not understand, benefactor! The magic is not in the bracelet itself¡ªit is in the energy you have infused into it! Yes, yes, that is why it must be recharged. With¡­ uh, with moonstone powder and the breath of a¡ª¡± Maluck held up a hand. ¡°Okay. Stop. Just stop.¡± Maluck reached into his inventory, fingers twitching with anticipation. He hadn¡¯t bought anything from the System Store that morning¡ªbecause he had been broke as hell. But after everything that went down today? He checked his Luck Points. 109 LP. Perfect. [System Store Purchase Confirmed] (50 LP) The Luck Siphon Stone ¨C When touched to someone, it sucks off their luck and adds it to your own. Maluck grinned wickedly as he pulled the small, smooth stone from his inventory. It was jet black, pulsing faintly with an eerie energy. The moment his fingers curled around it, he felt it hum with power. This wasn¡¯t just a tool. This? Was payback. He turned back to the old scammer, who was still trying to keep up his act, still weaving his ridiculous mystical nonsense. Maluck smirked, rolling the stone between his fingers. ¡°Hey, old man. Wanna see some real magic?¡± The old man¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°What is that?¡± Maluck grinned darkly. ¡°Karma.¡± Before the scammer could react, Maluck reached forward and SLAPPED the stone right onto his arm. [System Alert ¨C Luck Siphon Activated] -35 Luck Points siphoned from Target +35 Luck Points added to Host The old man stumbled back, looking woozy. Maluck stepped back, watching as the scammer blinked in confusion. ¡°Whoa¡­ I feel¡­ weird.¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°Yeah? That¡¯s called losing all your luck, buddy. Enjoy the next twenty-four hours.¡± The old man opened his mouth¡ªjust as the shelf behind him collapsed, sending a stack of cheap trinkets crashing down on his head. Maluck whistled. ¡°Damn. That was fast.¡± The old man groaned, pulling himself up, only to slip on a fallen Buddha statue and crash into the counter. Maluck tapped his bracelet. ¡°Welp. I think I got my money¡¯s worth after all.¡± And with that, he walked out, grinning ear to ear. [System Task Accomplished!] +35 Luck Points +0.02 Perception + Improvisation Skill (Scammer Slayer Unlocked) Maluck climbed into his car, stretching his arms. Finally. Something that felt better than winning at the casino. Winning against a scammer. And now? He had plenty of Luck Points, a cursed scammer left in his wake, and an entire day ahead of him. Time to figure out what was next. And what was this Scammer Slayer Skill? *** CHAPTER 22 Maluck drove to a nearby bar, parked his car, and walked in feeling like a man with a mission. A cold beer and a deep dive into his own System. The bar was dimly lit, with the low murmur of conversation and clinking glasses filling the air. The faint smell of fried food and wood polish hung in the air. He pushed the door open, the faint jingle of the bell above announcing his arrival. He slid onto a stool at the bar, the wood cool under his palms. The bartender, a tall man with a scruffy beard and a permanent scowl, gave him a nod. ¡°What¡¯ll it be?¡± he grunted. Maluck smiled. ¡°Whatever¡¯s on tap,¡± he said, settling in. It was a simple choice, but sometimes that¡¯s all you needed. The bartender didn¡¯t need to be asked twice. He filled a frosted pint glass with a smooth amber liquid and slid it over to Maluck. The beer had a slight foamy head, and Maluck took it gratefully, savoring the coolness as it met his lips. So far, things had been crazy. He had more Luck Points than he¡¯d ever had in his life, a skill set that now included ¡°Scammer Slayer¡± and something called ¡°Garbage Combat,¡± and a growing understanding that his own bad luck had been a real, measurable thing this whole time. He scrolled through his stats, looking over all the boosts and changes from the past day. Wait¡ªGarbage Combat. He¡¯d assumed it was some weird, gimmicky joke skill about using trash as a weapon, but hadn¡¯t actually looked at the details. It was time for a full scan. With his beer in one hand and his System display hovering in his vision, he got ready to see just how much of a mess his skill set had become. STATS Luck Level: 1 (70/100) Kinda Unlucky ¨C You step in a puddle right as you leave home, but at least it¡¯s just water. Probably. Bad Luck Points (BP) 29 Luck points (LP) 133 Strength (Str): 1.07 Intelligence (Int): 1.15 Charisma (Cha): 0.98 Health (HP): .099 Dexterity (Dex): 1.02 Wisdom (Wis): 1.11 Constitution (Con): 1.02 Endurance (End): 1.05 Perception (Per): 1.11 Inventory Bad luck Bracelet The Probability Charm ¨C While wearing it, any event you want to happen gets a 10% boost in probability. Stacks with other Luck items. The Luck Siphon Stone ¨C When touched to someone, it sucks off their luck and adds it to your own. (Recharging) *** SKILLS Board Games: Good Alcohol Tolerance: Above Average This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Firearms: Above Average Tactics & Strategy: Excellent Survival Skills: Above Average Computers & Hacking: Decent (Self-Taught) Explosives Handling: Average (Knows just enough to be dangerous) Historical Knowledge (Military): Excellent Pop Culture Trivia: Exceptional Sarcasm: Master Level Piloting (Drones): Good Piloting (Vehicles): Average Cooking (Rations & Campfire Meals): Above Average Hand-to-Hand Combat: Good Fitness Level: Above Average (Stronger than he looks, but prefers not to run) Improvisation: Excellent (Can MacGyver a solution out of duct tape and sheer willpower) Weapon Maintenance: Above Average Gaming (FPS & Strategy): Exceptional (Claims it¡¯s ¡°training¡±) Memorizing Obscure Facts: Excellent Improvisation Skill Unlocked: Garbage Combat You¡¯ve officially mastered the fine art of turning literal trash into tactical weapons. When life doesn¡¯t give you a sword, you make do with a half-empty soda can, a greasy napkin, or whatever else is lying around. Your ability to weaponize everyday junk has significantly improved. You instinctively spot bottles, wrappers, discarded fast food containers, and anything remotely throwable as potential tools of chaos. If a fight breaks out and you¡¯re unarmed, you won¡¯t be for long¡ªbecause trash is everywhere. Your accuracy with improvised projectiles has increased. That crumpled burger wrapper? Deadly distraction. That half-eaten sandwich some guy tossed aside? Perfect mid-fight insult. A full garbage bag? More effective than a punching bag if thrown correctly. You¡¯ve also gained a sixth sense for weaponizing your environment. A trash can lid? That¡¯s a shield now. A loose piece of cardboard? Tripwire in the making. A greasy fast-food bag? Blinding attack if timed right. Of course, there are limitations. Garbage is still garbage. You¡¯re not going to win against an actual warrior using only old ketchup packets and soda cups¡ªunless you get really creative. If you get too cocky, you might just end up covered in the trash you were trying to use as a weapon. Bottom line? You are now the undisputed champion of trash-fueled combat. Scammer Slayer Congratulations! You¡¯ve officially ascended from ¡°gullible fool¡± to ¡°walking scam detector.¡± Your experience with con artists, grifters, and shady dealers has sharpened your instincts. No longer will you fall for rigged games, fake mystical artifacts, or limited-time-only deals that are always available. You now have the power to sniff out deception, counter it, and¡ªif you¡¯re feeling particularly spiteful¡ªmake the scammer wish they¡¯d never laid eyes on you. The moment someone tries to cheat you, the System flags it. The guy ¡°just trying to help¡±? Liar. The investment opportunity that¡¯s ¡°too good to pass up¡±? Fraud. That ¡°one-of-a-kind artifact infused with cosmic energy¡±? Dollar store trinket. You see through scams now, almost like a sixth sense, and better yet, you don¡¯t just detect them¡ªyou call them out. You¡¯ve developed a Bullshit Reflex, an instinctive ability to shut down scams in the most humiliating way possible. Mockery? Check. Dramatic pauses? Essential. Making them stammer in public? Oh, absolutely. Why just walk away when you can turn the tables? If you play your cards right, you can trick the scammer into playing themselves, whether it¡¯s by using their own tactics against them or making them lose their own money. Thinking under pressure has become second nature. Lies, loopholes, and ways to flip a bad situation in your favor come naturally now. The sharper your wit, the funnier and more effective your counterattack. Every time you expose a scammer, you get a small boost to Luck Points. The universe approves of your pettiness. Of course, there are limits. It doesn¡¯t work on honest people¡ªif you try, you¡¯re just being a jerk. Higher-level con artists might require more effort to dismantle. And if you get too cocky, you could overplay your hand and make a fool of yourself. Bottom line? You are now every scammer¡¯s worst nightmare. *** ¡®Wow. I didn¡¯t expect to see such changes in a day,¡¯ thought Maluck. After scanning his stat sheet with all the bonuses, upgrades, and improvements, he almost felt like a completely different person from the guy who had woken up with a hangover yesterday morning. Luck Points: 133. Just yesterday, he¡¯d been struggling to keep any, and now? He had enough to actually buy something useful from the System Store. Charisma: Still below average, but inching closer to normal. Maybe one day, people wouldn¡¯t instinctively doubt him when he said something important. Improvisation Skills: Upgraded. Now he had Garbage Combat and Scammer Slayer under his belt. Not exactly the most dignified of skills, but damn useful¡ªone had helped him survive a mugging, the other had saved him from dropping another thousand bucks on a scam. Practicality over prestige. His Wisdom had gone up too. Probably from realizing that blind generosity needed a bit of common sense. And, you know, not trusting every mystical old man with a storefront. He¡¯d come a long way in just 24 hours. And somehow, he felt like things were just getting started. *** Now it was time to leave Calgary. Or at least, it should have been. But after one beer turned into two, and the clock in the bar reminded him that it was already pretty damn late, Maluck had to accept the obvious. Yeah. No driving tonight. And absolutely, under no circumstances, was he going back to the Pretty Good Western. No way in hell was he risking another checkout scam, another late fee debate, or another front desk employee who looked at him like he was the dirt under their shoes. ¡®Wait¡­ I have the Probability Charm.¡¯ A grin spread across his face. It gave him a 10% boost toward his desired outcome. And his desired outcome? A decent hotel. Maybe even a great one. He tapped the System. ¡°Alright, Probability Charm. Work your magic.¡± CHAPTER 23 A quick SkeweSearch of nearby hotels popped up, and¡ªoh? What was this? The Emerald Crown Hotel & Spa? Five stars. Solid reviews. Free breakfast. Discounted late-night check-in rate? Maluck raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oh damn. Maybe this thing actually works.¡± He had to admit, the reviews looked amazing¡ªpeople raving about the comfort, the service, the whole luxurious vibe. For a second, he almost felt like he was living in a movie, sliding into a penthouse suite with a glass of champagne waiting for him. Then he scrolled further. Complimentary robe and slippers. Plush bedding. High-speed WiFi. Pillows that aren¡¯t made of regret. He smirked. Pillows that aren¡¯t made of regret? Whoever wrote that review had clearly been through some late-night decisions they weren¡¯t proud of. But he couldn¡¯t help but laugh. This was exactly the kind of place Maluck needed right now. A sanctuary, a haven, a retreat from the whirlwind of luck and unpredictability that had been his life recently. He pulled up the booking page. ¡°Why not?¡± he muttered to himself. It wasn¡¯t like he had anything else going on tonight except a quiet beer and the buzzing of his phone with the occasional notification. If luck was on his side, it¡¯d be a perfect stay. With a few taps, the reservation was made. Maluck leaned back in his seat, letting out a contented sigh. ¡°I could get used to this,¡± he thought, watching the bartender across the room polish a glass, clearly oblivious to the storm of decisions and luck swirling around Maluck¡¯s life right now. He took a final sip of his beer, his mind already imagining the soft bedding, the plush slippers, and the deep, uninterrupted sleep that awaited him. Maybe the System had something else in store for him tomorrow¡ªbut for now, he was just going to enjoy being a little lucky for the night. His Probability Charm had been working overtime. Sure it had cost him a few LPs but feeling nouveau riche, he didn¡¯t mind. Maluck grinned, downed the last of his beer, and headed for his newly manifested luxury for the night. *** If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Maluck pulled up to the Emerald Crown Hotel & Spa, already feeling like a damn king. The place looked fancy¡ªbut not the kind of fancy that made you feel like a broke loser just for walking in. The lobby was all polished wood, soft lighting, and a faint smell of something expensive, like vanilla and success. The moment he stepped inside, a well-dressed concierge smiled at him. ¡°Good evening, sir! Welcome to the Emerald Crown. Do you have a reservation?¡± Maluck almost laughed. ¡°Yup. It¡¯s Maluck Tychandros.¡± The concierge clicked a few keys on his sleek-looking computer, then smiled. ¡°And since you¡¯re checking in late, we¡¯ll also upgrade you to a Deluxe King Suite¡ªat no additional charge.¡± Maluck blinked. ¡°¡­Wait. What?¡± The guy smiled like this was totally normal. ¡°Yes, sir. It¡¯s our policy to fill suites when we have extras available. You¡¯ll enjoy a spacious room with a city view, complimentary minibar, and a luxury rain shower.¡± Maluck felt a tear form in his soul. A free upgrade. A damn luxury rain shower. And a COMPLIMENTARY minibar? Do those even exist? This was so far removed from the Pretty Good Western bullshit that he felt like he had stepped into an alternate timeline. ¡°Sir?¡± The concierge looked at him expectantly. Maluck snapped out of his internal celebration and threw on a confident smile. ¡°Yeah. Yeah, that sounds¡­ acceptable.¡± He handed over his ID and payment like this wasn¡¯t the greatest moment of his life. Within minutes, he was given his keycard, a warm ¡®enjoy your stay¡¯ from the front desk, and¡ªget this¡ªa complimentary bottle of chilled water. As he headed toward the elevator, he glanced at his System screen. His Bad Luck Points were still holding steady. No catch. No hidden fees. Just pure, unfiltered luxury. Maluck grinned. ¡°Damn. Being lucky feels amazing.¡± *** As Maluck strolled toward the elevator, a System Task popped up. Of course it did. Wrath, clearly milking every last second of his turn at running the System, had thrown in one more task before his shift ended. [System Task Issued] That guy looked at you funny. Give him a good talking-to. Task Bonus: +2 LP. Maluck blinked. ¡°What guy?¡± He looked around, and sure enough, there was an older man with glasses, clearly exhausted, hauling his luggage toward the check-in desk. A normal, tired traveler. Not some smug, sneering bastard who deserved a verbal beatdown. Just a dude existing. ¡°Oh, come the fuck on.¡± Maluck instantly hit ¡®Do Not Accept¡¯ on the task. [System Response] DO IT. DO IT. DO IT. Maluck glared at the screen. ¡°NOPE.¡± Not tonight. Not when he was about to enjoy his fancy-ass hotel room with its luxury rain shower and complimentary minibar. Not when life was finally going his way. He loved the System, but he refused to be some brainless bitch, chasing Luck Points like a dog after a treat. He slapped the task rejection again for good measure and strolled into the elevator like a man who had won at life. Somewhere in the Astral Universe, Wrath was fuming. And Maluck? He was about to have a great night in a fancy hotel. CHAPTER 24 The next morning, Maluck lay sprawled across his luxury hotel bed, sinking into plush pillows that didn¡¯t feel like bricks for once in his life. The sheets were soft. The room was silent. The air conditioning was at the perfect temperature. This¡­ was heaven. Could he stay here forever? Not just in Calgary, or this hotel, literally the bed. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he hadn¡¯t woken up to something going wrong. No cold coffee. No expired food. No sudden, unexplained bruises. Just pure, uninterrupted comfort. He stretched, sighed in satisfaction, and opened up the System Store. His Luck Points total? 130 LP. ¡°¡­Not bad.¡± His eyes flicked to the room service menu on the nightstand. He had free breakfast included, but¡­ did he deserve breakfast in bed today? A devilish grin spread across his face. Yeah. Yeah, he did. He tapped the screen to browse the System Store while waiting for the most glorious morning meal of his life. New System Store Items Unlocked! Maluck scrolled through the newly refreshed System Store and nearly spit out his drink. The items were insane. ?(150 LP) Horseshoe of Serendipity ¨C Walking under it grants an immediate, unexpected stroke of luck. Must be recharged by hanging it up. ?(250 LP) The Ever-Finding Key ¨C Unlocks any lock, including metaphorical ones like ¡°locked potential.¡± ?(500 LP) Infinity Clover ¨C A four-leaf clover that never wilts. Holding it makes every situation end in your favor. Maluck¡¯s eyes practically glowed. ¡°¡­That last one sounds straight-up broken.¡± He double checked his Luck Points. 130 LP. ¡°¡­Well, shit.¡± He couldn¡¯t even afford the cheapest one. Maluck groaned, rubbing his temples. ¡°Alright, alright, no big deal. I¡¯ll just save up. Unless¡­¡± His mind clicked. Didn¡¯t he still have some Lucky Spins? [System Response] You have 3 Lucky Spins remaining. Are you certain you wish to use them now? Moderation in all things, even luck, is a virtue. Maluck grinned. ¡°Hell. Yes.¡± Maybe, just maybe, he could win something crazy and skip the saving part altogether. He tapped ¡°Activate Lucky Spin¡± and watched the prize wheel appear in front of him, spinning wildly. Time to see if his luck was truly on his side. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. *** Maluck watched as the wheel spun, his anticipation rising. The first spin slowed to a stop¡­ ¡°Sorry. Try again.¡± ¡°Oh, come on.¡± The second spin landed on 10 Luck Points. ¡°Alright, not terrible, but I need something big here.¡± The third and final spin clicked into place. A new item appeared in his inventory. [New Item Acquired] The Appraiser¡¯s Lens ¨C A device that spots hidden value and potential in objects, investments¡­ and even people. Maluck blinked at the description. ¡°¡­Wait. That actually sounds kinda OP.¡± He immediately pulled up the details. It looked like a sleek, high-tech monocle, like something a cyberpunk auctioneer would wear. It wasn¡¯t just for physical objects either¡ªit could detect undervalued assets, overlooked opportunities, and even talents in people they didn¡¯t know they had. ¡°Holy shit.¡± Forget gambling¡ªthis could make him rich. Maluck grinned, feeling the weight of his new acquisition. Maybe he couldn¡¯t afford those fancy System Store items yet¡­ But with this? He¡¯d get there a whole lot faster. *** Time to see what he could spend some LP on. His current numbers: ?Luck Points: 140 ?Bad Luck Points: 52 ?Luck Level: 1 (70/100) His luck description? Kinda Unlucky ¨C You step in a puddle right as you leave home, but at least it¡¯s just water. Probably. Maluck stared at that last part. ¡°Probably?¡± That wasn¡¯t the kind of luck he wanted. He was still thirty points away from leveling up, but he had more than enough LP to hit 100. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s do this.¡± He mentally hovered over ¡°Upgrade Luck Level¡±, anticipating a life where stepping in puddles didn¡¯t immediately send a shiver of dread down his spine. Maybe Level 2 would finally be where things stopped screwing him over. Maybe random misfortunes would start skipping him. Maybe, just maybe¡ª KNOCK KNOCK ¡°Room service.¡± His luxury breakfast had arrived. Maluck glanced at his System, then at the door. Luck upgrade¡­ or steak and pancakes? The choice was obvious. He mentally snapped the screen shut mentally, bolted to the door, and welcomed his morning feast like a man greeting a long-lost lover. He practically sprung out of bed, throwing aside his System screen like it was yesterday¡¯s news, and opened the door. A waiter in a crisp uniform stood there, pushing in a cart loaded with what could only be described as morning perfection. With a polite nod, the waiter set the tray on the table and left, leaving Maluck alone with a meal fit for a king. The steak was perfectly seared, dripping with butter, and sliced like a dream. The scrambled eggs were fluffy, the hash browns golden and crispy, and the toast actually looked like it belonged in a bakery, not a sad, plastic-wrapped grocery bag. The pancakes were stacked high, each layer dripping with real maple syrup, topped with fresh whipped cream and a handful of wild berries. Yes maple syrup, not maple flavoured syrup. This was the real deal. The coffee smelled like pure ambition, rich and velvety, served in a sleek cup with an artistic swirl of foam on top. The orange juice was freshly squeezed, none of that carton crap, and ice cold with the perfect balance of sweet and tangy. Then there was the bacon and sausage. Thick-cut, crispy bacon that had just the right amount of crunch. And again this was bacon, not back bacon, or what annoying Americans called Canadian Bacon. Sitting there merrily waiting to be eaten were also two juicy, maple-infused sausage links that smelled so good it was practically illegal. And just when he thought it couldn¡¯t get any better¡ªa pastry basket. This was a surprise thank you gift? Wow. A flaky croissant, a chocolate-filled Danish, and a buttered scone, because apparently, when you order breakfast at a luxury hotel, they flex on you just a little. Maluck stared at it all, momentarily speechless. This¡­ this was what winning felt like. He grabbed his fork and sliced into the steak, taking a bite. Holy. Shit. Soft, juicy, perfectly seasoned. If this had been served to medieval kings, entire wars would¡¯ve been fought over it. The pancakes melted in his mouth, the syrup just the right amount of sweet without being overpowering. The coffee hit his soul like a divine blessing. This was better than any casino win. For once, nothing was going wrong. No spilled drinks. No expired food. No bullshit. Just luxury. He sat back, fork in hand, soaking it all in. His first truly perfect morning. And once he finished? Time to level up that Luck. Yeah, that definitely needed an upgrade. He had enough Luck Points to push it past 100. ¡®What happens when I hit Level 2? Would the universe finally stop treating him like its personal chew toy? Would stepping in a puddle guarantee that it was just water? Would he finally experience effortless, breezy luck¡¯ Maluck grinned like a madman as he eyed the ¡°Upgrade Luck Level¡± button. This was it. The moment where he stopped being ¡°Kinda Unlucky¡± and stepped into the world of people who didn¡¯t have to triple-check their pockets for their keys every time they left a room. He took a deep breath, steadying himself like he was about to launch a missile. ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s go.¡± With a dramatic flair, he slammed the button. The screen flashed. A low hum filled the air. And then¡ª Everything on the System screen began shifting. New text, new numbers, new possibilities. Maluck leaned in, eyes wide, heart pounding. ¡°Oh shit. Oh shit. What¡¯s it gonna be?¡± His fate was being rewritten before his eyes. And whatever came next? It could change everything. CHAPTER 25 Maluck stared at the screen, unblinking. Then he blinked. Then he leaned in closer, as if squinting at the text would somehow make it better. Luck Level: 2 (0/200) Unfortunate ¨C Your toast lands butter-side down. On your last clean shirt. ¡°¡­Excuse me?¡± This was supposed to be an improvement. He had spent his hard-earned LP on this. And now, instead of just maybe stepping in a puddle, he was guaranteed to ruin his last clean shirt every time toast was involved? What kind of dystopian breakfast hell was this? Maluck ran a hand down his face. ¡°So you¡¯re telling me I just paid to make my mornings worse?¡± The System, as usual, remained silent. He groaned and flopped back onto the bed. This wasn¡¯t the kind of level-up he was expecting. But alright. Fine. If he had learned anything from this System so far, it was that progress was slow. And painful. And occasionally covered in butter stains. But he wasn¡¯t giving up yet. Because if Level 2 sucked this bad, that meant Level 3 had to be better. Right? ¡­Right? *** Maluck stared at his Luck Level 2 upgrade with a mixture of betrayal and disappointment. ¡°System, really? I just spent 100 LP on this. And all it does is doom my breakfast?!¡± The System, ever the condescending life coach, responded with what was clearly its best effort at reassurance. [System Response] ¡°Of course not. That¡¯s merely an example. Here is the full, balanced explanation of its effects.¡± BP now increases by 2 per hour. Because screw you, Maluck. However, once per day, a BP event is negated randomly. You still have bad luck, but occasionally the universe lets one slide. Maluck read over the new effects, his scowl deepening. BP now increases by 2 per hour. ¡°Because screw you, Maluck.¡± really stood out, though! ¡®What the hell is up with that? Did the System description just swear at him?¡¯ However, once per day, a BP event is negated randomly. ¡°You still have bad luck, but occasionally the universe lets one slide.¡± He had to read it again to make sure he wasn¡¯t hallucinating. ¡°Wait. My BP goes up twice as fast?! I don¡¯t know if this is an upgrade or a downgrade!¡± Stolen novel; please report. The System, in its infinite wisdom, answered in the most System way possible. [System Response] ¡°There are many ways to manage and reduce your BP. It will be your responsibility to discover them. If you consider it carefully, you will see that this is still an improvement.¡± Maluck blinked. Then he blinked again. ¡°Yeah, let me just think about it really hard. Maybe I¡¯ll realize how being twice as unlucky is a blessing.¡± No response. ¡°No, really. I love it. Can¡¯t wait to wake up tomorrow and watch my entire life turn into a slapstick comedy routine.¡± Still nothing. The bastard system had ghosted him. Maluck sighed heavily and rubbed his temples. This was not the divine ascension into Son of Fortune, Lord of Luck, Ultimate Gambling God that he had imagined. Instead, he had somehow signed himself up for Hard Mode. *** Just as Maluck was still staring at the System screen, trying to process how he had paid to become twice as unlucky, his BP ticked up by two more points. He froze. Then he let out an exhausted groan, ¡°Oh, come on!¡± This was some upgrade. If this kept up, by the end of the week, he¡¯d be dodging falling pianos and slipping on banana peels like a damn cartoon character. ¡°All right, nope. Not dealing with this right now.¡± Maluck took a deep breath and forced himself to focus on the bright side. At least he had a new item to play with. Appraiser¡¯s Lens. He pulled it out of his inventory and examined it. A small, shimmering monocle that looked valuable¡ªbut what mattered was what it could do. As soon as he attached it to his eye, the monocle turned completely invisible. ¡°Oh, thank God.¡± For a brief second, he had worried that he¡¯d be walking around looking like some wannabe anime protagonist with a giant monocle of destiny strapped to his face. But this? This was subtle. Invisible. Nobody would even know he was wearing it. Now¡­ the big question. Where could he use this thing to make some cold, hard cash? The possibilities ran through his mind. He could start a talent agency. Go around scouting ¡°hidden potential¡± in people. Maybe discover the next big Hollywood star, or the greatest quarterback nobody had ever heard of. Or¡­ what about a reality TV show? Find The Next Great Chef! He could spot hidden cooking talent in random people and turn them into world-class culinary masters. ¡°Wait, what the hell am I even talking about?¡± Maluck let out a short laugh as he realized something important: He had zero connections in any of those industries. Sure, someday he might pull it off, but today was not that day. He needed quick, easy money. That¡¯s when the idea hit him. ¡°Hold on a second. All those guys in those goofy novels¡ªespecially the Chinese ones¡ªgo looking for hidden jade stones inside sealed rocks, right? They use their powers to secretly peek inside and make a fortune.¡± Was there anything like that here? Maluck stopped walking, deep in thought. Then he slapped his forehead. ¡°Duh. Scratch-off tickets!¡± Of course. He could literally see hidden value. Why waste time on mining Jade in Myrammar when he could just walk into a convenience store and clean up? With renewed confidence, Maluck strode out of his hotel room, ready to exploit the absolute hell out of the lottery system. Next stop? The biggest wall of scratchers he could find. Secondary goal? Not to let his increasing BP (now at 54), screw with him. *** Getting out of his car, Maluck strutted into the 7-24 like a man on a mission. This wasn¡¯t just a convenience store run¡ªthis was the moment. The first real test of his Appraiser¡¯s Lens. The second he activated it, a small countdown timer appeared in his vision. ¡®Huh. Guess this thing isn¡¯t permanent. Makes sense. But¡­ Five hours? Oh hell yeah, that¡¯s way better than the Probability Charm.¡¯ He had plenty of time to abuse this power. Not wasting a second, Maluck made a beeline for the real prize: The lottery tickets. Rows upon rows of false hope neatly stacked behind the glass, each one promising fortunes they would never deliver. He squinted at the big $748 Million Megaball Jackpot poster. ¡®Would this thing work on draw tickets? Could he just see the winning numbers?¡¯ He stared at it intensely. Nothing. Not a glimmer. ¡°Damn. Worth a shot.¡± But then he shifted his gaze to the scratchers. And that was when everything changed. A faint glow pulsed around some of them. Others had a brighter aura. And a few were as dead as Britney Federlyne¡¯s singing career. Jackpot. Maluck¡¯s eyes locked onto the glowing tickets like a predator spotting its prey. He quickly pointed at the ones he wanted. The clerk behind the counter¡ªa tired, underpaid retail warrior who had seen it all¡ªraised an eyebrow. ¡°You sure you want these ones specifically?¡± Maluck nodded with absolute confidence. ¡°Yes. These ones specifically.¡± The cashier just shrugged. He had long since stopped trying to understand the strange rituals of scratch-off junkies. Some people bought in batches. Some only grabbed ticket number 8. Others picked tickets based on lucky colors. Maluck? He looked like he was communing with the lottery gods themselves. But hey, none of my business. Maluck paid the $460 with his Visex and walked out, a stack of scratchers clutched tightly in his hands like they were gold bars. This was it. Time to see if this power actually worked. *** CHAPTER 26 Maluck walked out of 7-24 with a stack of scratchers clutched in his hands like they were gold bars fresh from a heist. This was it. The first real test of the Appraiser¡¯s Lens. He slid into the driver¡¯s seat of his car, locked the doors, and laid the tickets out like they were ancient scrolls containing the secrets of the universe. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s see if this thing actually works.¡± With calculated precision, he started scratching. First ticket: $10 win. ¡®Not bad.¡¯ Second ticket: Another $10. ¡®Okay. Solid start.¡¯ Third ticket: $100. ¡®Now we¡¯re talking.¡¯ Ticket after ticket, the glowing ones that he had bought, had indeed proved to be winners. He was flying through them, his car now filling up with an ungodly amount of silver scratch-off dust that was coating his fingers, pants, and dashboard like some kind of broke magician¡¯s failed confetti trick. By the time he was halfway through, he had already won back what he spent. And then¡ª BAM. One of the big winners. $1,200. Maluck let out a laugh, half disbelieving, half maniacal. ¡°Oh, hell yeah. This is just as good as a casino!¡± He continued scratching, watching his total winnings climb higher and higher. A few more $20s, another $100, and then¡ª BOOM. Another big one. $2,900. Maluck stared at the ticket like it was a winning lottery jackpot. If this had happened a week ago, he probably would have passed out from sheer shock. Now? This was good, and caused him to smile. When the last ticket was scratched, he did a final tally. $4,807. Off a $460 investment. This was stupidly broken. Why even bother with casinos anymore? He leaned back in his seat, letting out a deep sigh of victory. The Appraiser¡¯s Lens had officially paid for itself. But now came the real challenge¡ª Cashing these in without looking like he just robbed a gas station. *** Maluck knew that scratchers had time limits to claim them because, well, of course he did. His bad luck had made sure of that. Once, he had thought he finally broke his cursed streak when he scratched off a birthday gift scratcher and saw a $5 win. For a brief, shining moment, he had felt what it was like to be a winner. Then he checked the back. Expired. Completely void. The universe had taken his one tiny victory, crumpled it up, and yeeted it straight into the void. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. Since then, he always checked expiration dates. But now? Now he was sitting on $4,807 worth of certified, in-date scratch-off winnings. And while cashing them in immediately was tempting, he had plenty of money and under 5 hours left on his Appraiser¡¯s Lens. No way was he wasting this waiting in line behind some guy trying to cash in a single $2 ticket while arguing with the clerk about how his ¡°lucky numbers¡± were ¡°supposed to win.¡± The scratchers could wait. For now, he had a different kind of hunting in mind. Pawn shops. If there was one thing about pawn shops, it was that they were like roaches. You didn¡¯t just find one. They infested entire areas, clustering together in the rundown, sketchy parts of town where payday loans and weird discount mattresses thrived. The signs were always aggressively neon, the windows cluttered with a mix of electronics, guitars, and tools that were probably stolen at some point but were ¡°definitely legit¡± if you asked the owner. And inside? A treasure trove of bad financial decisions. Unpaid engagement rings. Broken PayStations. A full set of golf clubs from some dude¡¯s divorce. But more importantly¡ª Hidden value. Maluck cracked his knuckles. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s see if I can find something worth flipping.¡± And with that, he walked into one. *** Maluck continued his hunt, weaving through shelves of forgotten dreams and poor financial decisions. The first shop had a few decent glows, buried in a sad pile labeled ¡°Five Bucks for Any Hardcover.¡± One book in particular caught his attention¡ªa first edition of¡­ something. Did he know what it was about? Nope. Did he care? Absolutely not. If it was glowing, it was valuable. That was the only rule that mattered. Further down, he found some underpriced electronics¡ªa fancy blender among them. Did he need a fancy blender? No. Did he grab it anyway? Yes. Because why the hell not? The second pawn shop was a disappointment. Almost completely empty, and the only glow came from a couch. An actual couch. Maluck absolutely was not about to haul an entire sofa from Calgary to Edmonton, no matter how valuable it was. He doubted it had gold bars stuffed inside. Maybe it belonged to a 19th-century poet. Didn¡¯t matter. Pass. The next shop made up for it, though. Buried in a one-dollar bin filled with forgotten comics, he spotted a bright glow. He reached in and pulled out¡­ XXX-Men #1. The first-ever adult-rated superhero comic. And¡ªcritically important¡ªthe pages weren¡¯t sticky. It was professionally bagged, sealed in an acid-resistant Mylar sleeve, complete with a backing board. Whoever had tossed it in the bin had no idea what they had. And now? It was Maluck¡¯s. At the last shop, he hit two surprises. The first was a baseball. It was beat to hell, the signature smudged, barely readable. But squinting at it, he made out the words: ¡°Babe Roofed.¡± Obviously, the previous owner had assumed it was a terrible fake and dumped it for a buck. But Maluck had the Appraiser¡¯s Lens.And the ball was glowing bright like a diamond.That was all he needed to know. He snatched it up immediately. Then he noticed the second glow. It wasn¡¯t an item. It was a person. The girl behind the counter. Maluck froze. ¡®Oh, hell no.¡¯ This was going to be a problem. Everything that had glowed so far had been an object¡ªsomething he could flip, sell, or hoard. But a person? That was new. What did it mean? Was she secretly a genius? Was she the greatest undiscovered rapper of their generation? Was she a ninja? A cook? The next big writer? No clue. But what he did know was this: There was no socially acceptable way to tell a random pawn shop employee that she was glowing. ¡°Hey, you have hidden potential!¡± ¡°Oh wow, what really? What is it?¡± ¡°No idea. My magic eyeball thing just says you¡¯re valuable.¡± Yeah. That sounded insane. Maluck panicked. So he did the only rational thing. Pretend like nothing was weird¡ªand buy the damn baseball. *** [System Task Issued] You¡¯ve found undiscovered potential. Someone with hidden talent is standing right in front of you, and they don¡¯t even know it. Find out what makes them special before someone else does. Bonus LP will be determined based on how much value you uncover. Don¡¯t let this talent go to waste. That would be a shame, wouldn¡¯t it? Maluck rejected the task immediately. There was no way he was going to walk up to a pawn shop employee¡ªwho, by the looks of her, had enough hard edges to cut glass¡ªand somehow convince her to chat, let alone reveal some hidden talent. After he hit NO, another System task popped up. [System Task] This girl is just ripe for discovering her own awesomeness in the universe. It¡¯d be good for you too. Help her out. [System Bonus]: +0.01 Charisma if you get her number. +0.02 Charisma if you land a date on the spot. +0.03 Charisma if you convince her to close the shop and leave with you right away. Maluck stared at the task list, now featuring not one but two challenges related to this pawn shop girl. He was tempted¡ªwho wouldn¡¯t want a free charisma boost?¡ªbut after a few seconds of real-world logic, he shook his head. ¡°System, there¡¯s no way I can do this,¡± he muttered. It wasn¡¯t that he had never talked to a girl before. He wasn¡¯t some socially awkward hermit. He¡¯d had a girlfriend once¡ªwell, more like a human leech in the shape of an ex-girlfriend. But randomly picking up a badass, possibly knife-carrying pawn shop employee in a part of town that looked like a crime documentary waiting to happen? That was way above his skill level. [System Response] Sometimes, you don¡¯t have to take on all the tasks. You can just ignore them and hit no, just like you did before. Maluck blinked. ¡°Huh. That actually sounds really reasonable.¡± [System Response] No problem. Remember, in life, balance is important. He exhaled in relief. For once, the System wasn¡¯t being a manipulative little gremlin. Maluck didn¡¯t realize that Temperance was in charge of System responses today. That was why, for once, it wasn¡¯t screaming at him to take every ridiculous challenge thrown his way. The two tasks? Those had been issued by Envy and Lust¡ªand those two had no way of telling him who was responsible for what. But in the Astral Universe? Oh, they were furious. In fact, their frustration was so obvious that, just as Maluck was about to relax, a new System Task popped up. [System Task] Say this to the girl: ¡°Hey, I don¡¯t know you, but I think you¡¯ve got some real hidden potential.¡± Reward: +1 LP Maluck narrowed his eyes. Oh, come on. CHAPTER 27 Maluck knew this was going to be ridiculous. But hey, a free LP was a free LP. As he handed over a quarter to pay for the baseball, he casually said, ¡°Hey, I don¡¯t know you, but I think you¡¯ve got some real hidden potential.¡± [System Task COMPLETE] Say this to the girl: ¡°Hey, I don¡¯t know you, but I think you¡¯ve got some real hidden potential.¡± +1 LP awarded The girl behind the counter slowly looked up from the register. She was about 27, with pink hair, heavy goth makeup, and dressed head-to-toe in black. Working at a pawn shop wasn¡¯t exactly anyone¡¯s dream job, and she had dealt with plenty of creeps¡ªespecially the ones buying used porn magazines. (Seriously, who buys used porn? A lot of people, apparently. And they never make eye contact.) But this? This was a new kind of weird. She raised an eyebrow, sizing him up like she was debating whether or not to throw him out herself. Then she smirked. ¡°Yeah, buying a fake baseball doesn¡¯t give you a bonus to try and pick me up, bud.¡± Oof. That sneer was practically a debuff to confidence. If it were just Maluck making a fool of himself, he would¡¯ve smiled awkwardly, accepted the L, and walked out with his possibly worthless baseball. But, of course, the System had other plans. [System Task] Say: ¡°What makes you think this is a fake baseball? Are you some kind of expert in baseballs? How do you even determine if a baseball is fake? Do you¡­ carbon date it?¡± Reward: +1 LP Maluck stared at the prompt. Oh, come on. This is just baiting her. Then again¡­ free LP. He inhaled, squared his shoulders, and went for it. ¡°What makes you think this is a fake baseball? Are you some kind of expert in baseballs? How do you even determine if a baseball is fake? Do you¡­ carbon date it?¡± The goth girl blinked, clearly taken aback. Then she let out an unexpected snort. ¡°Wow. You really committed to that bit.¡± Maluck watched as his LP ticked up by one. Totally worth it. [System Task] Say: ¡°What if I can prove this baseball¡¯s real? I¡¯ll bet you a hundred bucks that it is.¡± Reward: +1 LP Maluck didn¡¯t even hesitate. ¡°What if I can prove this baseball¡¯s real?¡± he said smoothly, sliding the dollar-purchased ball into his pocket. ¡°I¡¯ll bet you a hundred bucks that it is.¡± Another free LP slid into his stats. The goth girl tilted her head, arms crossed. Now she looked genuinely intrigued. ¡°There¡¯s no way that thing¡¯s real.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s why I¡¯m betting you a hundred bucks,¡± Maluck shot back. For once, he didn¡¯t need a System Task to tell him what to say. The banter was flowing naturally now. She eyed him for a moment, then smirked. ¡°Alright. It¡¯s on.¡± A hundred bucks was absolutely worth it to her just to watch him be proven wrong. Luckily, there was a sports memorabilia shop not too far from the pawn shop. Together, they left the store, Maluck feeling like a goddamn mastermind. *** [System Task COMPLETE: BONUS]] +0.03 Charisma Maluck smirked as he watched the stat increase. ¡®Hell yeah. Smooth talking pays off.¡¯ With this monumental boost, Maluck¡¯s Charisma was now at 1.01. For the first time in his life¡­ he was officially above average in charm. ¡®That¡¯s right,¡¯ he thought, puffing out his chest. ¡®I¡¯m now scientifically, mathematically, and System-verified, more charismatic than the average guy.¡¯ It wasn¡¯t much, but damn it, he¡¯d take it. *** POV : Astral Universe Lust was celebrating. Sure, it had cost her some LP to issue those System Tasks, but seeing Maluck unknowingly walk right into her influence? Totally worth it. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. Even better? She had just proven to that bitch Temperance that the ¡°no direct communication¡± rule wasn¡¯t as airtight as the Virtues thought. Lust, biting down on a heart shaped influence candy, laughed in victory. ¡°Oh, sweet, naive Temperance¡­ you really thought we couldn¡¯t interfere? That we just had to sit and watch? Please.¡± *** POV : Calgary They got to the sports memorabilia store, but the gate was down, the lights were off, and there was a sad little ¡°Be Back Later¡± sign in the window. ¡°Oh, come on,¡± the goth girl groaned. ¡°Dave is usually pretty reliable.¡± Maluck checked his BP. Yup. It had dropped by one point. Bad luck confirmed. Technically, not being able to verify the baseball immediately was unlucky. But¡­ now that he was above-average Charisma? This was an opportunity. He stretched, put on his best cool, casual smirk, and turned to her. ¡°Well, since it¡¯s closed, instead of standing around waiting, wanna grab some food or a drink? My treat.¡± She glanced back at the shop, arms crossed. She still wanted that $100¡­ and her stomach grumbled. ¡°¡­I guess I could go for something to eat.¡± Maluck internally fist-pumped. Charisma boost paying off already! *** Making their way to the restaurant, Maluck toggled ¡°Use LP to prevent Bad Luck¡±. He didn¡¯t want the universe to mess with him right now, and he had just received a few freebie points, so why not? He just had to remember to toggle it back later. They slid into a booth at the so-called ¡°Best Philly Cheesesteaks in Calgary¡± joint. The walls were lined with old sports memorabilia, neon beer signs, and the faint smell of sizzling beef and onions. Maluck wasn¡¯t convinced. ¡®Best cheesesteaks? Doubtful. But hey, food¡¯s food.¡¯ As they picked up the menus, he decided to break the ice. ¡°So, mysterious girl,¡± he said, flashing what he hoped was a charming grin. ¡°I¡¯m Maluck. What¡¯s your name?¡± She didn¡¯t even glance up from the menu. ¡°Chloe. But don¡¯t think just because we have a bet, we¡¯re out on a date.¡± Ouch. ¡®I guess being slightly above-average Charisma isn¡¯t exactly panty-dropping,¡¯ he thought. Still, he was nothing if not persistent. ¡°Fair enough,¡± he said, leaning back. ¡°But let me ask you something, Chloe¡­ have you ever thought about the fact that you might have some hidden potential?¡± Now she did look up¡ªmostly to glare at him. ¡°Oh god, you¡¯re one of those guys, aren¡¯t you?¡± Maluck blinked. ¡°Uh¡­ what?¡± ¡°You know, the ¡®hidden potential¡¯ guys. The ones who slide into DMs saying ¡®hey, I just get this vibe about you¡­ you seem really special, wanna join my business opportunity?¡¯¡± Maluck nearly choked on his water. ¡°What?! No! I¡¯m not trying to sign you up for a pyramid scheme!¡± ¡°Right,¡± she said, skeptical. ¡°Because ¡®hidden potential¡¯ definitely doesn¡¯t sound like a scam.¡± Maluck exhaled. ¡®This was going to be harder than he thought.¡¯ ¡°Okay, okay,¡± he said, tapping the table. ¡°Let¡¯s just hypothetically say you do have some kind of untapped skill¡ªsomething you don¡¯t even know about.¡± Chloe raised an eyebrow. ¡°Like what? Competitive pawnshop haggling? Advanced ¡®dealing with creeps buying used porn¡¯ techniques?¡± ¡°¡­Well, maybe?¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°Yeah, thanks. I¡¯ll be sure to put that on my resume.¡± Maluck groaned. ¡°Look, all I¡¯m saying is that people have hidden talents all the time¡ªstuff they don¡¯t even realize they¡¯re good at. What if you¡¯re secretly, like¡­ some kind of genius poker player or mechanical engineer or hell, maybe you¡¯re Calgary¡¯s next great cheesesteak critic.¡± She snorted. ¡°Yeah, because that¡¯s my destiny. Judging mediocre sandwiches.¡± ¡°Hey, somebody¡¯s gotta do it,¡± Maluck said. ¡°You could be the Gordon Ramstein of greasy diners.¡± Chloe gave him a look. ¡°If this is some elaborate way to hit on me, it¡¯s weird.¡± ¡°Okay, first of all,¡± Maluck said, pointing at her, ¡°if I was hitting on you, you¡¯d know, because it would be way smoother than this.¡± She smirked. ¡°Would it though?¡± ¡°¡­Alright, probably not.¡± Chloe laughed, shaking her head. ¡°Damn right.¡± Maluck sighed, resting his arms on the table. This was going to take some work. Before Maluck could try again, the waitress arrived, chewing gum and holding a notepad like she had absolutely no time for their nonsense. ¡°What can I get ya?¡± she asked. Chloe flipped the menu shut. ¡°I¡¯ll take a cheesesteak with extra onions, no mushrooms.¡± Maluck took a dramatic pause. ¡°I¡¯ll have the exact same thing.¡± Chloe stared. ¡°What, you think ordering the same thing as me is gonna make me fall for your weird hidden potential speech?¡± ¡°Nope,¡± Maluck said smoothly. ¡°I just figured you looked like someone who knew what she was doing when it comes to cheesesteak.¡± Chloe squinted at him. ¡°That was dangerously close to being offensive or charming.¡± ¡°I know, right?¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°One-point-zero-one charisma, baby.¡± She shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t even know what the hell that means.¡± The waitress smacked her gum, unamused. ¡°You want fries with that, Romeo?¡± ¡°Yes. Large,¡± Maluck said. ¡°Oh, and two beers.¡± Chloe leaned forward. ¡°Who said I¡¯m drinking with you?¡± Maluck shrugged. ¡°I just ordered beers. No need to drink them, if I annoy you, you can throw them in my face.¡± Chloe considered. ¡°¡­Alright, fine.¡± As the waitress walked off, Maluck leaned in. ¡°Okay, back to my point. Let¡¯s be real¡ªdo you actually want to work in a pawnshop forever?¡± Chloe exhaled through her nose. ¡°Oh, here we go. Pyramid scam 101.¡± ¡°I¡¯m just saying,¡± Maluck continued, ¡°people have hidden skills all the time, and if you¡¯re working in that place, you probably pick up a lot of random knowledge. You ever think about doing something with it?¡± Chloe drummed her fingers against the table. ¡°Like what? Starring in ¡®Pawn Starz: Calgary Edition¡¯? Oh look, here¡¯s another guy selling stolen power tools.¡± Maluck snapped his fingers. ¡°See? You already sound like a reality TV star. You just need a catchphrase.¡± Chloe scoffed. ¡°Yeah, how about ¡®Get the hell out of my shop, moron¡¯?¡± ¡°Okay, little rough around the edges, but we can workshop it.¡± Their beers arrived, and Maluck lifted his in a toast. ¡°To discovering your hidden potential.¡± Chloe clinked her glass against his. ¡°To eating this sandwich and not having to listen to this speech anymore.¡± Maluck grinned as he took a sip. ¡®Alright. Progress.¡¯ *** Maluck barely got in one victorious sip before disaster struck. Mid-swallow, the beer decided to betray him, heading straight for his windpipe instead of his stomach. He choked violently, coughing hard enough to rattle the table, and¡ªjust to really cement his humiliation¡ªmanaged to spill half the beer down his own shirt. Bad Luck Points (BP): 61 ¡ú 59 ¡®Ahhhhhh, I really shouldn¡¯t have toggled the Luck shield back off!¡¯ Chloe stared at him, eyebrows raised. ¡°Wow. Smooth.¡± Maluck hacked out the last of the betrayal. ¡°Yup,¡± he wheezed. ¡°One-point-zero-one charisma, baby.¡± Chloe snorted. ¡°And, what, zero point one coordination?¡± Maluck looked down at his soaked shirt and sighed. ¡°I swear this never happens.¡± Chloe smirked. ¡°Sure it doesn¡¯t.¡± The waitress, who had returned just in time to witness his beer-based self-destruction, let out a long-suffering sigh and slapped a few extra napkins onto the table. ¡°Need a sippy cup, champ?¡± Maluck groaned, blotting at his shirt with a napkin. ¡®Goddamn it. I just had to level up my bad luck, didn¡¯t I?¡¯ Maluck mentally asked, ¡®System, do I have to keep using the appraiser¡¯s lens on Chloe to see her hidden potential? I don¡¯t see her glowing anymore.¡¯ [System Response] ¡°Once the appraiser¡¯s lens has been used on an individual, their hidden potential is identified. The glow will only reappear when they engage in an activity related to that potential.¡± Maluck considered this. ¡®So, if her hidden potential was being the world¡¯s best beer drinker, she¡¯d be glowing right now?¡¯ [System Response] ¡°That is correct.¡± Chloe took a bite of her cheesesteak. No glow. ¡®So, she¡¯s not the next great food critic either?¡¯ [System Response] ¡°Correct.¡± Maluck smirked. ¡®Perfect.¡¯ He had no idea what her hidden talent was, but at least now he had a way to find out. CHAPTER 28 Chloe raised an eyebrow as she watched Maluck zone out. Maybe he was still recovering from his tragic attempt at drinking and talking at the same time. He had that vacant, thousand-yard stare, the kind of look people got when they realized they left the oven on at home¡­ or when they¡¯d just embarrassed themselves in front of a sarcastic goth girl. Maluck snapped back to reality, blinking. He probably looked like a malfunctioning NPC. Time to recover. ¡°So, Chloe, you like bets, right?¡± he asked. Chloe gave him a what the hell kind of question is that look. ¡°Yeah? What about it?¡± He leaned forward, grinning. ¡°I bet you I¡¯ll find your hidden potential in under two days. A thousand bucks.¡± She snorted. ¡°Oh yeah? And would my hidden potential happen to be something sexual?¡± ¡°No, no, no! Absolutely not!¡± Maluck waved his hands defensively, nearly knocking over his beer again. Though, in his head, he couldn¡¯t completely rule it out. He had no idea what her potential was. ¡®Maybe it was sexual? Hehehe.¡¯ His mind nearly exploded at that possibility. But that wasn¡¯t the point. The point was, he wanted to accomplish his System Task. And a thousand bucks? He had over four thousand bucks in lottery scratchers on him right now. As their meal and beers came to an end, Maluck leaned back, patting his stomach. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s go check if that shop¡¯s open.¡± Chloe was already grabbing her jacket. ¡°Hell yeah. I need to collect my hundred bucks and rub your smug face in it.¡± On their way back, Maluck spotted an open 7-24 and abruptly stopped. ¡°Hey, mind if we pop in here real quick?¡± Chloe shrugged. ¡°Sure, why not?¡± Inside, he casually strolled up to the counter and slid a $250 winning scratcher across like he did this every day. The cashier barely reacted, just processing it like it was any other transaction, but Chloe? Her eyes widened like he had just pulled a live rabbit out of his pocket. ¡°What the hell,¡± she muttered. ¡°People actually win those?¡± Maluck pocketed the cash, smirking. ¡°Yeah, it happens.¡± Chloe shook her head. ¡°Nah, nah, I mean more than, like, five bucks. You got more of those?¡± Instead of answering, Maluck flashed the stack of winners in his pocket. ¡°What the actual fuck?¡± Chloe whispered, staring at him like he was a wizard. Maluck grinned. ¡°Told you I could see hidden potential.¡± The second those words left his mouth, a sharp ding rang in his head. [System Response] Warning. You can¡¯t tell people about your powers and show them things like that. 5 LP deducted. Maluck¡¯s eye twitched. ¡®What the hell?!¡¯ He mentally screamed at the System. ¡®That¡¯s not fair!¡¯ The System, of course, didn¡¯t respond. It didn¡¯t need to. He got the message loud and clear. Keep your mouth shut, or lose more points. Taking a deep breath, he forced a casual shrug. ¡°I just got lucky.¡± Chloe kept staring at him, suspicious. ¡°Yeah. Sure. Lucky.¡± She didn¡¯t seem convinced, but at least she didn¡¯t press the issue. Lesson learned. Dave¡¯s Sports Memorabilia Store was open, and they walked in, the bell above the door chiming as they stepped inside. The smell of freshly cleaned leather and old vinyl hit Maluck¡¯s nose, along with the faint scent of dust. The shelves were lined with jerseys, vintage baseball bats, signed basketballs, and stacks of memorabilia that looked like they¡¯d been collected over decades. Maluck was struck by how everything looked so pristine yet ancient at the same time. It felt like stepping into a time capsule of sports history. He ran his fingers along a display case filled with rare, autographed footballs. ¡°Can I help you?¡± a voice called from behind the counter. ¡°Dave,¡± Chloe said. ¡°I¡¯ve got a customer here for you.¡± Dave glanced up from the counter. ¡°Oh?¡± Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°He thinks this baseball we sold in the pawn shop is worth way more than a buck.¡± He shook his head. ¡°You still sell stuff for a buck?¡± Chloe smirked. ¡°Hey, it actually saves us money. Otherwise, we¡¯d have to pay to throw it in a dumpster.¡± Dave scoffed. ¡°Man, that owner of yours is cheap.¡± ¡°Tell me about it,¡± Chloe muttered. Dave leaned forward. ¡°Alright, PawnStar, let¡¯s see this super valuable baseball of yours.¡± Maluck pulled the ball from the bag he¡¯d gotten at the pawn shop. ¡°Here it is.¡± Dave took it, turning it over in his hands before pulling out a magnifying glass. He squinted at the smeared signature, tracing the faded ink with a fingertip. ¡°Well, this is definitely an authentic Babe Roofed baseball,¡± he said finally. Chloe blinked. ¡°What?¡± Dave chuckled. ¡°I¡¯m surprised that cheap-ass owner of yours didn¡¯t bring it in for an appraisal.¡± Chloe rolled her eyes. ¡°Well, ever since you started charging Ron for every appraisal, he only brings in stuff he thinks is worth something.¡± Dave shrugged. ¡°Had to. He was bringing in boxes of garbage, and I still have a business to run.¡± ¡°¡°Fair enough,¡± Chloe admitted. ¡°So¡­ how much is this baseball actually worth?¡± Dave leaned in, squinting through the magnifying glass as he examined the signature. He ran a gloved hand over the scuffed leather, frowning in concentration. The old, worn baseball had clearly seen better days¡ªits once-white stitching was yellowed, and the leather had faded, but there was something about the way Dave handled it that made Maluck think there was more to it. Maluck and Chloe watched in silence, eyes locked on Dave as he meticulously examined the ball. The hum of the store¡¯s fluorescent lights filled the quiet, as if the entire room was waiting for Dave¡¯s verdict. ¡°Bet it¡¯s worth a fortune,¡± Maluck muttered under his breath, leaning forward slightly. Dave chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°Yeah, yeah, don¡¯t get too cocky yet, PawnStar.¡± He tapped the ball lightly with his finger, his brow furrowing as he inspected the signature one more time. ¡°The signature¡¯s faded and smudged, which knocks the value down a bit, but even in this condition¡­¡± He exhaled through his nose, clearly trying to weigh the possibilities. ¡°You might be sitting on a couple grand here,¡± Dave finally said, leaning back, wiping his glasses with a cloth. Chloe¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°A couple grand? For this thing?¡± She looked at the ball again, as if it had suddenly gained a new, mysterious aura. Maluck smirked. ¡°Told you it was valuable. You just needed the right expert.¡± Dave gave him a side-eye. ¡°Don¡¯t go getting too excited now, kid. A couple grand¡¯s still a long way from a fortune¡ªbut hey, it¡¯s not bad for a scuffed-up relic.¡± Maluck¡¯s smirk froze. ¡°A couple grand?¡± Maluck, still processing, let out a slow whistle. ¡°So¡­ if it weren¡¯t smudged?¡± Dave scratched his chin. ¡°If it were pristine? We¡¯d be talking tens of thousands, easy. Babe Roofed memorabilia is always in demand. But as it is? I¡¯d say¡ªeh, maybe a thousand if you find the right buyer.¡± Chloe whistled. ¡°Damn, PawnStar. You just turned a buck into a grand. That¡¯s some next-level pawn shop flipping.¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°I am pretty lucky.¡± Dave smirked. ¡°Yeah? Then you¡¯re lucky I don¡¯t charge you for appraisals too.¡± Maluck laughed. ¡°So¡­ any chance you¡¯d buy it?¡± Dave shook his head. ¡°Not my wheelhouse. I mostly deal in modern sports merch. But I can hook you up with a collector who might be interested.¡± Chloe crossed her arms. ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is¡­ Maluck¡¯s got a $1,000 baseball, and I lost the bet.¡± ¡°Sorry Chloe, but if your bet was about whether that baseball was real? Yeah you definitely lost,¡± Maluck leaned on the counter. ¡°Well, if I get a thousand bucks for this ball, that¡¯d be awesome. So why don¡¯t I consign it to you, and you sell it to a collector?¡± Dave grinned. ¡°Works for me. We take 30% on consignment sales.¡± Maluck let out a low whistle. ¡°Damn, that¡¯s a hefty cut.¡± Dave shrugged. ¡°You bought the ball for a buck.¡± ¡°¡­Fair enough.¡± Maluck handed it over. Chloe, however, was not amused. She crossed her arms, scowling. ¡°Great. So I closed the shop early, probably gonna get chewed out by my Ron, and I still didn¡¯t get my hundred bucks.¡± She checked her phone. The next guy wasn¡¯t coming in until five. If she didn¡¯t hustle back, she¡¯d miss the shift change entirely. ¡°Yeah, I gotta go,¡± she grumbled. Maluck, still feeling pretty good about his sudden potential payday, gave her an easy grin. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t be mad. Look at it this way¡ªyou almost won a hundred bucks.¡± Chloe shot him a flat look. ¡°Maluck?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°Shut up.¡± And with that, she turned and marched out of the store. Following behind her, Maluck had a big, shit-eating grin. ¡°Look at that, I made $700, just like that.¡± Chloe ignored him. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t ignore me,¡± Maluck said. ¡°Don¡¯t forget, you could win a thousand bucks in two days if you take my bet.¡± Her annoyed, fast-paced walking slowed just a bit. She glanced at him. ¡°You¡¯re serious, right?¡± Maluck held up a handful of cash and fanned it out. ¡°As serious as these dollar bills.¡± Chloe crossed her arms. ¡°And again, nothing sexual or weird, right? And I mean it. No taking pictures of my feet. No asking me to sit on cakes.¡± Maluck blinked. ¡°People ask you to do that?¡± Chloe let out a humorless laugh. ¡°You have no idea the kind of creeps we get in a pawn shop.¡± Maluck raised an eyebrow. ¡°Then why do you keep working there?¡± She shrugged. ¡°Girl¡¯s gotta eat. And it pays better than minimum wage.¡± ¡°Fair enough.¡± He hesitated for a second before adding, ¡°Tell you what. The original bet was about finding your hidden talent for a thousand bucks, right?¡± Chloe nodded, still skeptical. ¡°I¡¯ll make it guaranteed for you. Since you¡¯ll be taking time off work, I¡¯ll pay you the thousand dollars just to find your talent over the next two days.¡± Chloe narrowed her eyes. ¡°And once again, nothing sexual, right?¡± ¡°What, you want a contract?¡± Maluck joked. Chloe actually thought about it for a second. Maybe. But that¡¯d be a weird thing to ask for. ¡°Nah,¡± she finally said. ¡°I know you¡¯ve got the cash.¡± After all, she had just watched him casually win $1,250¡ªbetween the scratcher and flipping that baseball. Even if this whole thing turned out to be nonsense, at least she¡¯d get paid. ¡°Alright, sounds great,¡± Maluck said. ¡°Why don¡¯t we meet up tomorrow and¡ª¡± He hesitated. ¡°¡ªstart our experiments?¡± Chloe gave him a deadpan look. Even he cringed internally. ¡®Jesus, even I know I sound creepy right now.¡¯ ¡°Okay, adventure. Let¡¯s call it an adventure,¡± he corrected. Chloe smirked. ¡°Much better.¡± She handed him her number. Maluck, now riding the high of actually securing this ridiculous deal, drove back to his hotel, feeling like a king. He was going to extend his stay for another two nights. Because why the hell not? The place was great, he had no real obligations back in Edmonton, and if he could pull this off and complete his System Task? Fantastic. What wasn¡¯t so fantastic, though, was the fresh pile of dog shit he stepped in on the way into the hotel. *** CHAPTER 29 Maluck did a weird kind of hop-step shuffle as he entered the hotel lobby, trying to scrape off the last remnants of dog shit from his boot without making it obvious. He¡¯d done his best outside, but some of it still clung stubbornly, like it had a personal vendetta against him. He approached the front desk. ¡°Uh, any chance I can get a newspaper or something? I stepped on something outside.¡± The front desk clerk, ever the pinnacle of customer service, made a sympathetic face. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s awful! Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll take care of that for you right away.¡± Maluck waved a hand dismissively. ¡°No worries, wasn¡¯t your fault.¡± The clerk assumed he was just being polite, but no¡ªMaluck genuinely didn¡¯t blame them. If anything, he blamed the cosmic forces that had spent his entire life ensuring he was a magnet for canine landmines. He was the king of collecting dog shit on his boots. The clerk handed him a newspaper. ¡°Here, just wrap them up and leave them outside your door. We¡¯ll have them cleaned and polished.¡± Maluck paused. ¡°Wait, seriously?¡± ¡°Of course! We provide complimentary shoe cleaning for long-term guests.¡± Maluck blinked. ¡®Why would anyone live anywhere else? This place is great!¡¯ At this point, he was starting to question why he even bothered keeping his apartment back in Edmonton. What did he have waiting for him there? A mediocre living space filled with too much junk and too many bad memories? Sure, rent was cheap, but it wasn¡¯t like he needed to be there. Originally, he was only going to extend his stay by two days. But now? Hell with it. He looked at the clerk. ¡°Actually, I love my room. Can I extend for a month?¡± The clerk barely managed to keep the surprise off his face. ¡®A whole month?¡¯ That was fantastic¡ªturning a one-day guest into a long-term customer helped their bonuses. ¡°Yes, sir! I¡¯ll update your reservation right away.¡± Maluck nodded in satisfaction. ¡®Life is good.¡¯ Unwilling to track any extra filth onto the pristine hotel carpet, he bent down and yanked off his boots right there in the lobby, wrapping them in the newspaper. He wasn¡¯t even embarrassed¡ªhe was rich(ish) now. Rich people did weird stuff all the time. Socks on, boots off, he padded barefoot to the elevator, enjoying the plush carpet under his feet as he headed up to his room. Once inside, he flopped onto the bed and opened his System stat sheet. So much had changed in just one day. He needed to take it all in. STATS Luck Level: 2 (0/200) Unfortunate ¨C Your toast lands butter-side down. On your last clean shirt. Bad Luck Points (BP): 57 Luck Points (LP): 108 Strength (Str): 1.07 Intelligence (Int): 1.15 Charisma (Cha): 1.01 Health (HP): 0.99 Dexterity (Dex): 1.02 Wisdom (Wis): 1.11 This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Constitution (Con): 1.02 Endurance (End): 1.05 Perception (Per): 1.11 INVENTORY Bad Luck Bracelet The Probability Charm ¨C While wearing it, any event you want to happen gets a 10% boost in probability. Stacks with other Luck items. The Luck Siphon Stone ¨C When touched to someone, it sucks off their luck and adds it to your own. (Recharging) The Appraiser¡¯s Lens ¨C A device that spots hidden value and potential in objects, investments¡­ and even people. (Recharging) Tasks to be completed: [System Task Issued] You¡¯ve found undiscovered potential. Someone with hidden talent is standing right in front of you, and they don¡¯t even know it. Maluck whistled. ¡®Not bad. Not bad at all.¡¯ *** After lounging on his bed for a while, staring at his stat sheet and reflecting on the whirlwind of events over the past couple of days, Maluck had a realization¡ªthere was nothing stopping him from improving his stats manually. Sure, he had luck on his side now, but why not put in some real effort too? The hotel had a great gym, and since he was planning to stay for a month, he might as well make use of it. It wasn¡¯t like he was a stranger to working out. His military days had kept him in shape, though he had definitely slacked off since. Now that he wasn¡¯t constantly fighting off an avalanche of bad luck, maybe he could actually build some strength without a dumbbell mysteriously slipping out of his grip and smashing his foot. Feeling motivated, he changed into his workout clothes and hit the gym, putting in a solid hour and a half of weight training, cardio, and some core exercises. He even pushed himself harder than usual, expecting the System to reward his effort with some kind of stat boost. After his last set, sweaty and exhausted, he pulled up his stats. Nothing. No increase in Strength. No tiny bump in Endurance. Not even a pity boost in Constitution. ¡°¡­Seriously?¡± he muttered, wiping his face with a towel. He had half-expected some kind of ¡®Congratulations! You are now 0.01% less weak!¡¯ message, but nope. [System Response] ¡°Stat growth through training requires consistent effort over time. One session is insufficient to trigger a measurable increase.¡± Maluck groaned. ¡°So what, I have to work out regularly to see results? What kind of scam is this?¡± [System Response] ¡°Correct.¡± He let out a long, defeated sigh before plopping down on a nearby bench. Of course. He should¡¯ve known the System wouldn¡¯t just hand out stat increases like candy. Apparently, even with cosmic-level luck, some things still required actual effort. Still, it wasn¡¯t a complete loss. His body felt good¡ªbetter than it had in a while¡ªand his mind was clearer. If nothing else, it¡¯d be good to get back into shape. And who knows? Maybe after a few sessions, the System would decide to reward him. Maluck made a determined face. ¡°Alright, fine. I¡¯ll play your little ¡®work hard for gains¡¯ game¡­ for now.¡± *** After his workout, Maluck headed back to his room, took a long, satisfying shower, and decided to indulge in another round of room service. He had gotten seriously addicted to it. Something about a luxury hotel delivering food straight to his door made him feel like an emperor¡ªor at the very least, someone who had his life together. Since he was on his ¡®getting in shape¡¯ kick, he opted for something healthier¡ªa high-protein chicken breast salad with dressing on the side. No sad, limp lettuce for him. When it arrived, it looked fantastic¡ªgrilled chicken perfectly sliced, crisp romaine, shaved parmesan, crunchy croutons, and a dressing that actually smelled good instead of like old vinegar. He dug in, feeling smug about his responsible life choices. Then, halfway through the meal, he realized something¡ªhe had forgotten to order a drink. Annoyed, he got up and checked the mini-fridge. There it was. The overpriced hellscape of hotel beverages. The first night was free. But even the Emerald Crown Hotel & Spa couldn¡¯t comp free minibar forever. A single can of soda: $6. He scowled. Sure, he was rolling in cash, but six freaking dollars? Absolutely not. Even if he had millions, he still wouldn¡¯t pay that on principle. Grumbling, he left his room, walked down the hall barefoot in sweatpants and a T-shirt, and made his way to the vending machine. He punched in the code for his usual Grepsi Cola, ready to enjoy his usual sugar rush¡ª And then he stopped. ¡®Wait.¡¯ His brain flicked to an idea. This was an opportunity. Instead of buying his usual, he selected Koala Kola. Not just one¡ªthree of them. Because it was time to test something. Grabbing the cans, he marched back to his room, lined them up like little soda soldiers on the desk, and cracked them open one by one. First tab: ¡°Sorry, try again.¡± Second tab: ¡°Sorry, try again.¡± Third tab: ¡°Sorry, try again.¡± Perfect. Most people would be pissed off. Most people would swear, curse the vending machine, or mutter about corporate scams. But Maluck? He was grinning. Because at the same time he was checking his drink tabs, he was watching his Bad Luck Points. And sure enough¡ªhis BP had dropped by three. Bad Luck Points (BP) 56 ¡°Hell. Yes.¡± This was exactly the proof he needed¡ªhis Bad Luck Points weren¡¯t just some passive curse. He could spend them. Burn them off in small, manageable ways. Instead of waiting around for fate to throw some disaster his way, he could control his misfortune. And all it cost him was the price of three garbage sodas. This was huge. He took a victory sip of his totally worth it, not-even-close-to-winning Koala Kola. It tasted like artificial cola bliss. And for once? Losing all three winning chances? He didn¡¯t mind. *** CHAPTER 30 Maluck woke up feeling well-rested, stretched out luxuriously in his overpriced but undeniably comfortable hotel bed, and did his habitual ¡®let¡¯s see how screwed I am today¡¯ check. His Bad Luck Points had shot back up to 76. Figures. Apparently, doing nothing but reading some web novels and getting a solid night¡¯s sleep wasn¡¯t enough to stop the slow creep of bad luck from accumulating. Still, he wasn¡¯t worried. Not after last night¡¯s soda experiment. He had options now. Yawning, he pulled up the System Store to check what was available today. And then¡ªhe froze. Three store items had appeared. They all seemed pretty cool. (150 LP)The Unbreakable Mirror ¨C If it reflects something, that thing gets a boost of luck for the day. Breaks the curse of bad luck if shattered. (50 LP)The Lucky Penny ¨C If you pick it up, you avoid one disaster that day. (300 LP)Golden Domino ¨C Causes a perfect chain reaction of lucky events wherever it lands. But something new had appeared! Or rather¡­ something familiar. His eyes widened as he saw it¡ªThe Fortune Tuner. Not just back in stock, but in a separate slot. (25 LP) The Fortune Tuner ¡ªa strange, mechanical device designed to adjust luck, transforming bad luck into good luck. That meant one thing Permanent access. ¡®Holy. Shit.¡¯ This was massive. A game changer. Because now, whenever he wanted, he could burn all of his Bad Luck Points and turn them into Good Luck. No more waiting for disasters. No more playing defense against fate. Now he could weaponize it. Maluck barely hesitated before slamming the Buy button on the Fortune Tuner. His Luck Points (LP) were originally sitting at 108, but the moment the transaction processed, he watched that number drop by 25 like a kid seeing their allowance disappear at an arcade. Now at 83 LP, he sat back, grinning. This was huge. He finally had the Fortune Tuner as a permanent tool. No more stressing about BP stacking up like an unpaid tab. No more waiting for disaster to strike just to offset the bad luck. Now, at any given time, he could flip all that miserable misfortune into pure blessed fortune. It was like finally getting an ¡°Undo¡± button for his entire existence. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. Maluck exhaled, feeling victorious. ¡°Man,¡± he muttered, stretching in his chair. ¡°If I had this years ago, I wouldn¡¯t have had to drink Grepsi Cola out of sheer spite.¡± Of course, the System had already started tallying up his bad luck again in the background. But for now? For now, Maluck was on top of the world. Maluck sat back, staring at his Bad Luck Points (BP) ¨C 76 and Luck Points (LP) ¨C 83 like a gambler trying to decide if he should go all in or cash out. Now, the Fortune Tuner was in his hands permanently. But¡ªand it was a big but¡ªhe noticed that it was still colored like other one-time-use items. That meant every time he used it, it would cost him 25 LP. ¡°So basically,¡± he muttered, rubbing his chin, ¡°I can burn 50 BP into nothing, but I get zero luck points out of it. Just a clean slate.¡± That sounded nice, but it also felt like a massive waste. Every day, with bad luck accumulating at 2 per hour, he was getting 48 BP per day. Which meant that as long as he kept generating BP, he could use the Fortune Tuner daily and stay perfectly at zero. But zero luck wasn¡¯t lucky. It was just¡­ not unlucky. If he played his cards right, let the BP build up a little more, then flipped it at the right moment? He¡¯d be rolling in bonus Luck points. Maluck exhaled, trying to balance the pros and cons in his head. On one hand, if he used it right now, he¡¯d be completely safe from any horrific bad luck. No sudden car breakdowns, no bird shitting directly into his open coffee cup, no accidentally liking a three-year-old Instafans post while stalking someone. On the other hand¡­ ¡®Wasn¡¯t some suffering¡­ just free LP waiting to happen?¡¯ Maluck felt strangely enlightened by the thought, like he¡¯d just cracked the code of the universe. By allowing himself to endure bad luck, he could eventually gain good luck. It was kind of poetic. No¡ªdeeply poetic. So much so that he decided to write an impromptu Buddha-esque saying about it. He grabbed the hotel notepad and scrawled: ¡°To endure misfortune is to plant the seed of fortune. But if you never water the tree of suffering, you will never sit in the shade of luck.¡± He stared at it for a long moment. ¡­It was terrible. Like, really bad. Not profound. Not wise. Just a weird mashup of mixed metaphors and nonsense. Which made sense. ¡°Poet¡± and ¡°Philosopher¡± were conspicuously absent from his stat sheet. He sighed, crumpled up the paper, and threw it into the trash. Still, the core idea was solid. He just¡­ needed someone else to write it better. ¡°Yeah¡­,¡± he finally muttered. ¡°Thinking too much.¡± He hit Activate Fortune Tuner¡ªand instantly, his BP dropped from 76 to 0. His LP now sat at a happy 121 The best part was that a whole bunch of potential disasters just got erased from existence. He breathed a sigh of relief. That was definitely the right call. *** Maluck scarfed down his breakfast, keeping things healthy¡ªboiled eggs and seared chicken breast. High protein, good fuel for his totally-going-to-give-him-a-stat-boost-any-day-now workout routine. Then, gym time. Thirty minutes of lifting. Still no strength gains. Fifteen minutes of running. ¡®Okay, actually, that felt easier. Progress? Maybe?¡¯ He wasn¡¯t sure how this worked, but he was starting to get suspicious that the System didn¡¯t count effort unless it was literally life or death. Did he need to wrestle a bear? Run from a gang of angry gamblers? Fight someone in a burning dojo? ¡­He really hoped not. As he was lying on a bench, contemplating whether or not he had to get dramatic for the System to care, his phone buzzed. Dave: Yo, baseball sold. $1,000. Maluck blinked. That was fast. A second message popped in: Dave: You probably could¡¯ve gotten $1,500 if you waited. Maluck snorted. ¡®Classic.¡¯ He wasn¡¯t that mad about it, though. Cash in hand was cash in hand. He grabbed his keys and drove to Dave¡¯s shop, picked up his cut, and, feeling pretty damn good, decided it was time to call Chloe. No answer. Weird. Maybe she was still asleep? He sent her a message: Maluck: Hey Chloe, you up? ¡­No answer. Maluck waited a few minutes, checked his phone. Still nothing. He was about to send a wake-up-you-lazy-bum meme when, just as he stepped out of his car at the hotel, his phone finally buzzed. Chloe: Just woke up. You ready? Maluck: Yup. Where am I picking you up? Chloe: [Address sent] Alright then. Time to go pick up his grumpy, goth, pawn-shop sidekick and figure out just what exactly her hidden talent was. He¡¯d go pick up the cash from the sale later. No hurry. Hopefully, it didn¡¯t involve breaking into abandoned buildings or getting into bar fights. ¡­Actually, that last one could be fun. He did have a Garbage Warrior skill after all. *** CHAPTER 31 When Maluck pulled up to Chloe¡¯s place, he had to admit¡ªshe looked good. Still goth, still full of hard edges, but damn. He always had a soft spot for goth girls. He was about to throw her a casual compliment when¡ª [System Task Issued] Charm her pants off. System Bonus: +1 LP. Maluck nearly choked on air. What the hell, System?! Still, he wasn¡¯t one to turn down free LPs. ¡°You look fantastic in the morning,¡± he said smoothly. Chloe gave him a look. Not the Oh my god, take me now look. More like the You¡¯re about to break our ¡°no weird sexual stuff¡± agreement, aren¡¯t you? look. Maluck saw no ding of a completed task. ¡®Damn.¡¯ He scrambled to clarify. ¡°I mean, uh, you look pretty good for it being early in the morning.¡± Chloe¡¯s expression relaxed. ¡®Okay, that wasn¡¯t creepy.¡¯ She even smiled a little, and¡ª [System Bonus Achieved] +1 LP Maluck grinned. Chloe thought he was smiling at her. In reality, he was just thrilled about the free LP. ¡°You ready for our day of adventure?¡± he asked. ¡°Sure,¡± Chloe said, stretching. ¡°What do you wanna do first?¡± Maluck considered. ¡®Alright, what do I actually know?¡¯ ?She wasn¡¯t a beer critic. No glow. ?She wasn¡¯t a food critic. No glow. ?Working at the pawn shop? No glow at the register either. ¡®They were at her place, so¡­ maybe something here?¡¯ ¡°What kind of stuff do you do at home?¡± he asked. Chloe shrugged. ¡°I dunno. The usual. Sleep. Eat. Read dumb shit on my phone.¡± ¡°Have you had breakfast yet?¡± ¡°Nope.¡± ¡°Alright, why don¡¯t you make yourself something?¡± Chloe gave him a suspicious look. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°No reason. Just¡­ breakfast. Normal human breakfast. Not a weird test or anything,¡± Maluck said, trying way too hard to sound normal. Chloe sighed, clearly not buying his totally normal and not an experiment explanation, but she walked to the kitchen anyway. She poured herself a coffee. No glow. She grabbed a yogurt from the fridge. No glow. She sat down at the counter, spooned some yogurt into her mouth, and looked at him like he was the weirdo in a horror movie that hadn¡¯t revealed himself yet. Still. No. Glow. Maluck was about to give up when¡ª [System Response] ¡°If only you weren¡¯t so unattractive. Everything you do seems kind of creepy.¡± Maluck nearly spit out his own coffee. Excuse me?! But before he could even process that insult, another system task popped up. [System Task Issued] Get Chloe to want to make out with you. System Bonus: +0.01 Charisma Get Chloe to sleep with you. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. System Bonus: +0.02 Charisma Get Chloe to sleep with you and bring her friend. System Bonus: +0.02 Charisma, +0.01 Agility, +0.01 Endurance. Maluck almost fell over. ¡°WHAT THE HELL, SYSTEM?! I LITERALLY MADE A NO-WEIRD-SEXUAL-STUFF AGREEMENT!¡± The System didn¡¯t respond. It never did when it knew it was guilty. He didn¡¯t realize Lust had been given System Control for the day, and she definitely didn¡¯t care about his silly contract with Chloe. Maluck rubbed his temples. Okay, new plan: ignore the system¡¯s thirst-trap nonsense and focus on the actual goal¡ªfiguring out what Chloe¡¯s talent was before the System turned this whole thing into a trashy harem novel. *** ¡°Alright, it¡¯s definitely not cooking,¡± Maluck said, watching Chloe eat her yogurt with all the enthusiasm of someone who had just resigned herself to nutritional survival. She shot him a look. ¡°Gee, thanks.¡± ¡°Hey, I¡¯m just ruling things out,¡± he said, raising his hands. ¡°Alright, next question¡ªdo you have anything you¡¯ve written?¡± Chloe shifted in her seat, suddenly looking suspicious. ¡°¡­Why?¡± ¡°Because I need to know if you have hidden talent. And what goth girl doesn¡¯t have a collection of moody poetry?¡± Chloe huffed. ¡°Wow. Stereotype much?¡± Maluck shrugged. ¡°Am I wrong, though?¡± She crossed her arms, but after a moment, she sighed. ¡°Fine. Yeah, I¡¯ve written stuff. Do I have to read it to you?¡± ¡°Nope. I just need to see that you have it.¡± She frowned but walked over to her desk, pulled open a drawer, and retrieved a battered black notebook. It had skull stickers on the cover and probably contained at least three poems about the crushing void of existence. Maluck watched intently. No glow. Well, damn. ¡°Alright,¡± he said, ¡°you¡¯re not a secret poetry prodigy.¡± Chloe¡¯s face twisted into pure offense. ¡°Excuse me?!¡± He immediately backpedaled. ¡°No, no, no, I¡¯m not saying your poetry sucks! I haven¡¯t even read it!¡± ¡°Exactly!¡± she snapped. ¡°I¡¯m just saying that poetry isn¡¯t your hidden talent,¡± Maluck explained quickly. ¡°The way my talent works is it detects things that you don¡¯t know you¡¯re good at. So if poetry was your thing, you¡¯d already be aware of it. The hidden talent check is about stuff you might have never tried or never had the opportunity to explore.¡± Chloe still looked mildly pissed, but then she nodded. ¡°¡­Alright. I guess that makes sense.¡± She sat back down, flipping through her notebook. ¡°You still don¡¯t get to read my poetry, though.¡± Maluck smirked. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t dream of it. But let me guess¡ªat least one of those is about how nobody understands you?¡± Chloe threw a crumpled napkin at him. ¡°Shut up.¡± Maluck leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the table. ¡°Alright, next test. Ever tried singing?¡± Chloe gave him a deadpan stare. ¡°You did hear me talk just now, right?¡± ¡°Yeah, but having a speaking voice like a disgruntled crow doesn¡¯t mean you can¡¯t sing,¡± he said, grinning. ¡°You ever really tried?¡± Chloe sighed. ¡°Fine, whatever. If this gets us through your weird scavenger hunt faster¡­¡± She cleared her throat, rolled her shoulders like she was preparing for battle, and dramatically belted out: ¡°IIIIII~¡± It was terrible. Like, horrifically terrible. Maluck had heard karaoke performances that made his ears want to bleed, but this? This was next-level tone-deafness. It was the sound equivalent of a car crash happening in slow motion while someone played the Jawz theme on a kazoo. More importantly¡ªno glow. ¡°Alright!¡± Maluck clapped his hands. ¡°We can definitely cross singing off the list.¡± Chloe scowled. ¡°Gee. Thanks. You wanna critique my shower concerts next?¡± ¡°Nope. I¡¯d rather keep my eardrums intact.¡± Chloe chucked a spoon at him. ¡°Alright, next test: push-ups,¡± Maluck said. Chloe raised an eyebrow. ¡°Push-ups?¡± ¡°Yeah. What if your hidden talent is some kind of freakishly good physical ability? Like, what if you¡¯re secretly the next Olympic gymnast but just never knew it?¡± She snorted. ¡°Yeah, because that¡¯s definitely something I wouldn¡¯t have noticed by now.¡± ¡°Hey, sometimes people don¡¯t try the right thing until the right moment.¡± Chloe rolled her eyes but got down on the floor anyway. She did a push-up. It was fine. She did another. It was slightly less fine. By the third, her arms started shaking like she was trying to bench press a dump truck. Maluck stared. No glow. She flopped onto the floor. ¡°Yeah. I don¡¯t think I was meant for this one.¡± ¡°Probably not,¡± Maluck agreed, making a mental note never to draft her for a zombie apocalypse team. ¡°Alright, now let¡¯s test something fun,¡± Maluck said. ¡°How¡¯s your fighting ability?¡± Chloe blinked at him. ¡°You do realize I work at a pawn shop, right? I know how to threaten people with a baseball bat and maybe pepper spray a dude, but that¡¯s about it.¡± ¡°Yeah, but what if you¡¯re secretly a natural born martial artist? Like, bam, suddenly you¡¯re knocking out dudes left and right, and you never even knew you had it in you?¡± She gave him a skeptical look. ¡°And how exactly are we testing this? You want me to punch you?¡± ¡°Hey, if it means discovering your hidden talent, I¡¯m willing to take one for the team,¡± Maluck said nobly. Chloe grinned. ¡°Alright. Hold still.¡± Maluck barely had time to register his mistake before her fist slammed into his arm. ¡°AHHH¡ªWHAT THE HELL?!¡± he yelped, staggering back. ¡°You told me to punch you!¡± Chloe said, laughing. ¡°I meant, like, lightly!¡± He checked his shoulder. ¡°Jesus, I think I felt my soul try to leave my body for a second.¡± Chloe cracked her knuckles. ¡°That¡¯s what you get for being an idiot.¡± More importantly¡ªno glow. So, not a hidden talent. Also, now his arm hurt. ¡°Okay, fine, let¡¯s try something that doesn¡¯t involve me getting physically assaulted,¡± Maluck muttered, rubbing his sore shoulder. ¡°How are you with computers?¡± Chloe shrugged. ¡°I mean, I use one. I know how to SkewesSearch stuff. And fix minor tech issues.¡± Maluck grabbed his laptop from his bag and set it in front of her. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s see if you have some kind of hidden hacker ability. Try¡­ I don¡¯t know, opening up the command prompt and writing some code or something.¡± Chloe frowned. ¡°That¡¯s the dumbest test yet. Who just randomly tries to write code?¡± Maluck shrugged. ¡°Someone who¡¯s secretly good at it and just never knew.¡± Chloe sighed and cracked her fingers dramatically before clicking around. She opened a few programs, typed a few things, and stared at the screen. Nothing happened. No glow. Maluck watched her for a few more minutes before nodding. ¡°Alright. You¡¯re not a tech prodigy either.¡± Chloe groaned. ¡°Wow. Shocking. I can¡¯t believe I wasn¡¯t secretly a super genius this whole time.¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t lose hope. We still have a lot of weird tests left.¡± Chloe dropped her head onto the table. ¡°I regret everything about this bet.¡± *** CHAPTER 32 They continued with tests, but the results kept coming up with no positive glows. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack made of more haystacks. ¡®This task sucks!¡¯ thought Maluck, the frustration building inside him like a pressure cooker. He could practically feel the glows taunting him, or rather, not taunting him. Nothing was happening. No good vibes, no exciting powers, just pure, unadulterated disappointment. Maluck huffed, filling with frustration. ¡°Well, it¡¯s almost lunch. Do you want to eat here, or do you want to go out? I can take you out for lunch.¡± Chloe shrugged, looking disinterested as she spun a pen between her fingers. ¡°Hey, if you¡¯re buying.¡± Maluck smirked, leaning back in his chair. ¡°Sure, but I wouldn¡¯t mind something healthy.¡± He paused. ¡°You know, just in case we¡¯re not getting glows, maybe I should at least get some good karma out of this.¡± Chloe rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. ¡°All right,¡± she said, her voice deadpan but with a hint of amusement. ¡°Healthy it is.¡± ¡°But first, can I get that thousand bucks in advance?¡± Chloe asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Just in case you really are a skeezy creep who likes to take advantage of innocent goth girls?¡± Maluck blinked, momentarily stunned. ¡°Well, when you put it like that¡­¡± he trailed off, then shrugged. ¡°Fine.¡± They headed to a nearby sushi spot, one of those tiny, family-owned places tucked between a vape shop and a questionable massage parlor. The kind of place where the fish was either incredibly fresh¡­ or you¡¯d be spending the next 24 hours in the fetal position praying to the porcelain gods. Thankfully, as soon as they walked in, the rich smell of perfectly seasoned rice and fresh seafood filled the air. Maluck exhaled in relief¡ªthis was real sushi, not some sad grocery store sushi that had been sitting in a plastic box for days. Chloe glanced at the menu and immediately zeroed in on the most expensive roll. ¡°Ohhh, they have A5 Wagyu and uni sushi.¡± Maluck arched a brow. ¡°You know, just because I offered to buy doesn¡¯t mean you have to order the most bougie thing on the menu.¡± She smirked. ¡°Oh, I absolutely do.¡± Rolling his eyes, Maluck waved the waiter over, and they ordered a feast¡ªan assortment of sashimi, some specialty rolls, and of course, Chloe¡¯s ridiculous gold-plated, A-list celebrity, definitely-don¡¯t-look-at-the-price sushi. When the food arrived, it looked glorious. The fish practically glistened under the soft lighting, the sushi rolls were neatly arranged like tiny works of art, and the miso soup was steaming, filling the air with its rich aroma. Maluck popped a piece of salmon sashimi into his mouth and nearly groaned. ¡°Okay. This is the good stuff.¡± Chloe, already three bites ahead of him, nodded while chewing. ¡°Mmhmm,¡± she mumbled, before swallowing. ¡°See? Fancy sushi is always worth it.¡± Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Maluck eyed her ludicrously expensive Wagyu sushi and reached for a piece. Chloe slapped his hand away with her chopsticks. ¡°Buy your own rich-people sushi.¡± Maluck scowled. ¡°Unbelievable. I feed you, and this is how you repay me?¡± She smirked, popping another piece into her mouth. ¡°Yes.¡± Maluck sighed, but as he bit into a spicy tuna roll, he couldn¡¯t be mad. This was damn good sushi. While eating, Maluck kept thinking about the System task related to charming Chloe. He decided to give it another shot¡ªwhy not? He was already spending the afternoon with her, eating fancy food, and trying to pretend he didn¡¯t feel like he was on a weirdly awkward date. Maybe the task would work if he just really leaned into the moment. He flashed Chloe his most dazzling, magnetic smile. She looked up from her quinoa bowl and raised an eyebrow. ¡°You good?¡± she asked, her voice dry. ¡°Oh, yeah,¡± Maluck replied, trying to sound casual, ¡°just thinking about how my charm could probably melt glaciers, you know?¡± Chloe¡¯s eyes flicked to the plate of Wagyu in front of them and then back to Maluck. She gave him a bemused look, her smile almost imperceptible. ¡°Uh-huh. Sure you are.¡± He grinned and waited, expecting some magical burst of charisma to flow through him. But¡­ nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was like trying to start a car that ran on luck, only for it to sputter out and die. ¡°Well,¡± Maluck muttered to himself, ¡°fancy pants Wagyu wasn¡¯t enough to tip the scales.¡± He sighed dramatically, reaching for his water. ¡°Guess I¡¯m still just¡­ average, huh?¡± Chloe looked at him, barely hiding her smirk. ¡°Guess so.¡± After finishing their meal, he stretched. ¡°Let¡¯s head back and do some more tests. We haven¡¯t really tested anything outdoors yet. There¡¯s a park nearby, right?¡± ¡°Yeah, there is, right around the corner ,¡± Chloe confirmed. They walked out to his car, and just as Maluck reached for his keys¡ªplunk! ¡°Oh, shit,¡± he muttered. He looked down just in time to see his keys disappear through a storm drain. Chloe smirked, arms crossed. ¡°Damn. That sucks.¡± Maluck exhaled slowly, staring at the drain like it had personally insulted him. He checked his stats. Bad Luck Points (BP): 8 ¡ú 4 Of course his bad luck was responsible for this. Maluck groaned, staring down at his lost keys, which had somehow managed to find the tiniest, most inconvenient hole in the entire parking lot. ¡°Of course,¡± he muttered. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t this happen?¡± Maluck let out a long sigh, shaking his head. ¡°Yeah, sometimes I¡¯m not that lucky.¡± Chloe arched an eyebrow. ¡°Sometimes?¡± Maluck pointed dramatically at the drain. ¡°Okay, most of the time.¡± He pulled out his phone. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll call AMMA.¡± Chloe gave him a side-eye. ¡°You really wanna wait an hour?¡± Maluck hesitated. ¡°¡­Not particularly.¡± She gestured at the car. ¡°You got a spare?¡± ¡°Yeah, but it¡¯s in the glove box.¡± It had been a habit of his ever since he lost his first car keys inside a vending machine. He was the king of backup plans. ¡°In that case, wait here,¡± she said and disappeared back into the sushi shop. Maluck stood there, confused. ¡°Uh¡­ okay?¡± ¡®Did she just abandon him in his time of need? Should he really have given her the thousand bucks in advance?¡¯ A minute later, she returned¡ªholding a metal coat hanger. Maluck blinked. ¡°Uh, what¡¯s that for?¡± Chloe rolled her eyes. ¡°What do you think? I¡¯m getting your damn keys.¡± ¡°¡­By breaking into my car?¡± ¡°Do you want to sit here like a dumbass, waiting for some dude named Gary from AMMA to take pity on you?¡± That was a strong argument. Chloe expertly bent the hanger, slid it through the crack of the window, and within seconds¡ªclick!¡ªthe door popped open. Maluck stared in shock. ¡°Holy shit.¡± Chloe smirked, tossing the hanger aside. ¡°You pick up a few things working in a pawn shop.¡± Maluck wasn¡¯t just relieved he didn¡¯t have to call AMMA, whose slogan should have been ¡°Got car troubles? We can help¡­ as long as you don¡¯t mind waiting an hour!¡± No, what really got him excited was what he saw as Chloe stepped back from the car. A glow. A freaking glow. He mentally fist-pumped. ¡®Oh hell yes. We got something.¡¯ Maluck turned to Chloe, his face lit up with excitement. ¡°Okay, slight change of plans.¡± She narrowed her eyes. ¡°Why are you looking at me like that?¡± ¡°You ever think about a career in crime?¡± CHAPTER 33 ¡°What?¡± Chloe said, eyes widening in mock horror. ¡°Crime? I see. This whole $1,000 task was just a setup! You¡¯re gonna use me as some sort of patsy.¡± She held up her hands dramatically. ¡°Me, a poor, innocent girl, tricked by a skeevy criminal mastermind.¡± Maluck scoffed. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m not skeevy.¡± ¡°So you admit you¡¯re a criminal mastermind?¡± she teased, smirking. ¡°What? No!¡± Maluck ran a hand through his hair. ¡°All I¡¯m saying is, I just discovered what your hidden talent is.¡± Chloe raised an eyebrow. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Yep.¡± ¡°Let me guess,¡± she deadpanned. ¡°Using coat hangers to break into cars?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Maluck said, grinning. ¡°And I don¡¯t know how you got so good at it, but we¡¯re definitely going to figure out a way for you to get even better.¡± Chloe crossed her arms, giving Maluck a skeptical look. ¡°So, let me get this straight. My hidden talent is breaking into cars?¡± ¡°Well, yeah,¡± Maluck said with a confident nod. ¡°I mean, you popped that lock like a pro. No hesitation, no fumbling, just¡ªbam¡ªopen car. You are a master of breaking into cars¡± Chloe sighed, shaking her head. ¡°Okay, first of all, it¡¯s not breaking in if it¡¯s your own car.¡± ¡°That¡¯s exactly what someone who¡¯s really good at breaking into cars would say.¡± She groaned. ¡°Look, I didn¡¯t just wake up one day and think, ¡®Hey, I¡¯d love to develop a felony-adjacent skill set.¡¯ My ex was into, like, legal security bypassing. Y¡¯know, the ethical hacking kind. He was one of those guys who gets hired to test security systems¡ªlocks, safes, even digital stuff.¡± Maluck raised an eyebrow. ¡°So, like, a professional thief?¡± Chloe nodded. ¡°More like a professional pain in my ass, but yeah, basically. He was obsessed with it. Used to spend hours practicing lockpicking and bypass techniques. And since I have actual motor skills instead of greasy Dorito fingers, I was always the one testing out the physical locks while he ran his nerdy digital bypasses.¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is, you were the one with the real talent.¡± She shrugged. ¡°I mean¡­ yeah. Turns out, I¡¯m kinda good at this kind of thing. Hands-on learning, problem-solving. And working at the pawn shop only made it more so.¡± ¡°How so?¡± Chloe rolled her eyes. ¡°Because every other week someone comes in trying to sell ¡®totally legal¡¯ lockpicking kits, skeleton keys, or these cheap bump keys they got from some guy on the internet. We can¡¯t exactly sell them on the shelves, but I¡¯d be lying if I said I never messed around with them.¡± Maluck leaned back against the car, impressed. ¡°Okay, so let me get this straight. You had a security nerd ex-boyfriend, worked in a pawn shop full of questionable merchandise, and in your free time, you practiced with shady lockpicking tools?¡± She shrugged. ¡°Yeah, pretty much.¡± He let out a low whistle. ¡°Chloe, you don¡¯t just have a hidden talent. You¡¯re basically a rogue in a tabletop RPG.¡± Chloe snorted. ¡°Great. I¡¯ll put ¡®Pawn Shop Rogue¡¯ on my LinkedOut.¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know what the useful applications for this are yet, but I do know one thing.¡± This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. ¡°Oh yeah? What¡¯s that?¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°We¡¯ve accomplished our goal. So, you have earned your thousand bucks.¡± Chloe smirked. ¡°Damn right, I did.¡± ¡°But¡ª¡± Maluck continued, holding up a finger. ¡°You owe me one more day.¡± Chloe frowned. ¡°Wait, I thought the deal was a thousand dollars as soon as I found my hidden talent.¡± ¡°Ah, but when I upgraded it from a bet to a guaranteed job, you agreed to two days,¡± Maluck said, crossing his arms like a smug lawyer who had just nailed the closing argument of his case. Chloe groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. ¡°Are you seriously gonna lawyer me out of an easy payday?¡± ¡°I mean, yeah,¡± Maluck said. ¡°I found your hidden talent, and I paid you a full grand upfront. The least you can do is humor me for one more day.¡± Chloe exhaled dramatically. ¡°Fine. But if you make me do something stupid like¡­ I don¡¯t know, trying to juggle chainsaws to see if I¡¯m secretly an adrenaline junkie, I¡¯m keeping the thousand bucks and using it to get a new identity.¡± Maluck laughed. ¡°No chainsaws. Probably.¡± Chloe gave him a look. ¡°Okay, definitely no chainsaws,¡± he conceded. ¡°But I do have some ideas.¡± Chloe rolled her eyes. ¡°Oh god. Alright, what next?¡± Maluck thought for a moment. ¡°Well, we figured out what you¡¯re good at. Now, we figure out what to do with it.¡± Chloe blinked. ¡°What, like, my dream job?¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Maluck said. ¡°I mean, look at you. You¡¯re good with your hands, you pick up skills quickly, and you have a very interesting r¨¦sum¨¦ of totally legal activities.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Chloe snorted, ¡°and yet, I¡¯m working at a pawn shop where people try to trade in half-used candles and stolen microwaves.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m saying! We gotta upgrade you,¡± Maluck said. ¡°Maybe security consulting? Or maybe you start a ViewTube channel teaching people how to legally break into their own cars when they¡¯re dumbasses like me.¡± Chloe raised an eyebrow. ¡°Legally?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Maluck said, nodding quickly. ¡°Because ethics.¡± Chloe sighed. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll humor you. But if this next day involves motivational speeches or making a vision board, I¡¯m breaking into your house and stealing your wallet.¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°See? You¡¯re a natural.¡± [System Response] ¡°System task accomplished. Hidden talent successfully identified. Intelligence +0.01, Wisdom +0.01.¡± Maluck grinned at the notification. ¡®Hell yeah, free stat points.¡¯ Chloe, of course, had no idea what just happened. ¡°Why do you look so smug?¡± Maluck shook his head. ¡°Oh, no reason. Just feeling extra wise all of a sudden.¡± Chloe gave him a flat look. ¡°Right. So what¡¯s the actual plan for tomorrow? Because if this involves me picking more locks, I¡¯m charging overtime.¡± Maluck smirked. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry. Tomorrow¡¯s about career advancement.¡± Chloe crossed her arms. ¡°Maluck, if you try to make me go to a job fair, I swear to god¡ª¡± ¡°No job fairs, no boring networking events,¡± Maluck interrupted. ¡°But we are going to see just how far we can push your skills. If you¡¯re gonna be a badass, you might as well train like one.¡± Chloe tilted her head, intrigued despite herself. ¡°Go on¡­¡± *** Maluck grinned. ¡°Alright, well, it¡¯s only midday. You belong to me for the rest of the day too, so let¡¯s go back to your apartment and grab your gym stuff.¡± Chloe blinked. ¡°Gym stuff?¡± She gestured at herself, specifically her pale, skinny arms. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you noticed, but I don¡¯t really do gym stuff.¡± Maluck gave her a once-over. ¡°Yeah, no kidding. But do you own gym stuff? Like, a pair of running shoes and something you can work out in?¡± She frowned, clearly suspicious. ¡°I guess I have something.¡± ¡°Great. Let¡¯s go get it.¡± They drove back to her apartment, where Chloe begrudgingly grabbed a pair of old sneakers, some black leggings, and a tank top that looked like it had been bought out of obligation rather than actual intent to exercise. ¡°All right, I¡¯ve got my gym stuff. Where are we heading?¡± ¡°Back to my hotel gym.¡± ¡°What?¡± she said, narrowing her eyes. ¡°Hey,¡± Maluck said, holding up his hands. ¡°I said hotel gym, with an emphasis on gym. First of all, it¡¯s a great gym, and second of all, it¡¯s free.¡± And third¡ª¡± He grinned. ¡°I¡¯ve got a plan for your training.¡± Chloe crossed her arms. ¡°I don¡¯t like how ominous that sounds.¡± Maluck checked his System screen as they got into the car and looked at the new System Task. It had appeared in his vision when she had originally unlocked his car. [System Task] : Help Chloe develop her skills as a master thief. System Bonus: To be determined based on success. Maluck mentally fist-pumped. ¡®Hell yes. Chain quests are the best.¡¯ The first part of the mission¡ªdiscovering Chloe¡¯s hidden talent¡ªhad already given him some solid stat boosts. If this next part was anything like the last one, he was about to rack up even more. Which meant there was only one thing to do: Push this goth girl way out of her comfort zone. Chloe, completely unaware of the intense training montage Maluck was mentally preparing, looked at him skeptically. ¡°So what exactly are we doing at this gym?¡± Maluck smirked. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry. It¡¯s nothing you can¡¯t handle.¡± She narrowed her eyes. That statement is suspicious as hell. I hate you already.¡± ¡°Perfect,¡± Maluck said, pulling into the hotel parking lot. ¡°That means we¡¯re off to a great start.¡± *** CHAPTER 34 As they walked into the hotel lobby, Maluck turned to Chloe. ¡°Come up with me to my room. I need to grab my stuff and change.¡± Chloe gave him a deadpan look. ¡°Again, you do realize how sleazy you sound right?¡± Maluck sighed. ¡°I know. But seriously, I¡¯m not about to work out in this.¡± He gestured dramatically at his current outfit, which, to be fair, wasn¡¯t exactly gym-ready. She crossed her arms, still skeptical. ¡°Alright, fine. But just so you know, my good friend Mr. Pepper Spray is locked and loaded.¡± Maluck raised an eyebrow. ¡°You really think I¡¯m that kind of guy?¡± She shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t take chances.¡± ¡°Come on, Chloe. You can trust me a little by now right?¡± She stared at him for a long moment. Then, with a noncommittal hum, she stepped into the elevator. As they rode up, Maluck glanced down the hall and noticed a small group of hotel staff standing outside a room, looking increasingly frazzled. A guest, clearly in distress, was gesturing wildly as one of the employees fiddled uselessly with the door handle. ¡°Oh no, I love waiting around when I have somewhere to be,¡± the guest snapped. ¡°This is great customer service.¡± ¡°We apologize for the inconvenience, sir,¡± one of the staff members said, looking like he wanted to melt into the carpet. ¡°The key card system is currently¡ªuh¡ªundergoing maintenance.¡± ¡°Maintenance?¡± The guest looked about five seconds away from combusting. ¡°Are you kidding me? My briefcase is in there! I have a meeting in twenty minutes!¡± Chloe and Maluck exchanged looks. ¡°Well,¡± Maluck said, tilting his head toward the scene, ¡°guess you¡¯re about to get some real-world training.¡± Chloe followed his gaze, then turned back to him, unimpressed. ¡°I just agreed to this training thing, and you¡¯re already throwing me into an actual crime?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a crime if you¡¯re helping,¡± Maluck reasoned. ¡°It¡¯s community service¡ªbut cooler.¡± Chloe exhaled through her nose. ¡°You do realize I could just say no, right?¡± Maluck nodded. ¡°You could. But you won¡¯t.¡± She narrowed her eyes at him. ¡°And why is that?¡± ¡°Because I¡¯m paying you? And you¡¯re in training?¡± Maluck said with a smile, nodding toward the frazzled staff, ¡°look at them. They¡¯re basically begging for a professional.¡± Chloe sighed, muttering, ¡°I swear to god, if this gets me arrested¡­¡± Then, without waiting for more of Maluck¡¯s nonsense, she strolled over to the group, hands in her pockets, casual as ever. ¡°Heya¡­,¡± she said hesitantly. The VIP turned to her with an irritated scowl. ¡°What?¡± ¡°You want help with that door?¡± The manager, still on the phone, blinked at her. ¡°What?¡± Chloe pulled out a hairpin from her pocket and twirled it between her fingers. ¡°I can pop that lock in ten seconds.¡± The guest and the staff both gawked at her like she¡¯d just offered to perform open-heart surgery with a butter knife. The manager hesitated. ¡°Uh, miss, that¡¯s not really¡ª¡± The VIP cut him off. ¡°You can actually get me in?¡± Chloe smirked. ¡°Mmmhhhhm yeah¡­probably .¡± The manager looked ready to protest, but the guest, clearly having no patience left, threw up his hands. ¡°I don¡¯t care if it¡¯s against policy! If she can open it, let her open it!¡± The manager stammered, but before he could form a coherent argument, Chloe was already crouched by the lock, working like she did this for a living. And honestly? Watching her in action was insane. Maluck had seen lockpicking in movies before, but those scenes always made it look dramatic and complicated. Chloe? She barely even tried. A couple of quick adjustments, a flick of her wrist, and¡ª CLICK. The door swung open. The VIP stared at her, then at the now-unlocked door, then back at her. ¡°Oh my.¡± The manager looked like he might actually pass out. Chloe stood up, dusting off her hands. ¡°There. Fixed it. You¡¯re welcome.¡± The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. The VIP didn¡¯t hesitate. He strode in, grabbed his briefcase, then turned back to her with an appreciative nod. ¡°You¡¯re a lifesaver. Here.¡± He pulled out his wallet and, without even counting, handed her a wad of cash before heading off to his meeting like nothing happened. The manager, on the other hand, was still frozen in place. Chloe waved a hand in front of his face. ¡°Uh. Hello? You good?¡± The manager finally snapped out of it, eyes darting between her and the lock. ¡°That¡­ that should not have been that easy.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Chloe said, pocketing the money, ¡°you might wanna invest in some better locks.¡± The manager looked vaguely traumatized. Meanwhile, Maluck had been watching the whole scene with growing amusement, and now, as he checked his system notifications, he grinned. [System Task Completed]Help Chloe develop her skills as a master thief. Found a real-world scenario for Chloe¡¯s training. Reward: +0.01 Perception He smiled. ¡°Damn, Chloe. That was impressive.¡± Chloe grinned, holding up the cash. ¡°And profitable.¡± Maluck shook his head in amazement. ¡°You just got a cash bonus while still in training. That¡¯s next-level.¡± She tucked the money into her pocket. ¡°Yeah, yeah. Now let¡¯s go hit the gym, hah, I can¡¯t believe those words left my mouth.¡± Maluck laughed. This training arc was already off to a fantastic start. *** Maluck stretched his arms as he and Chloe walked into the hotel gym. It was surprisingly empty¡ªjust the way he liked it. Chloe, on the other hand, looked at the rows of machines and weights like they were some kind of torture devices. ¡°So¡­ what exactly are we doing here?¡± she asked, crossing her arms. Maluck grinned. ¡°Simple. Training you to be the ultimate master thief.¡± She snorted. ¡°Oh great. So what, bench presses and squats are gonna help me crack a safe?¡± He tapped his temple. ¡°See, that¡¯s where normal people go wrong. If you want to be the best, you train the best.¡± Maluck could easily put together a training plan for Chloe. Back in the military, he had been a beast in the gym and had actually done a lot of coaching for other soldiers. If it weren¡¯t for his catastrophic bad luck, he probably would have made Master Sergeant. But, well¡­ when you mix bad luck with firearms, things tend to go downhill fast. Real fast. His military career had been like watching a tragic comedy¡ªone where the main character is really competent but constantly getting blindsided by fate. Misfire during a training exercise? That was him. Accidentally sitting on an officer¡¯s hat during an inspection? Also him. Nearly taking out a drone with a rogue kettlebell swing? Look, that one wasn¡¯t entirely his fault. So yeah, Master Sergeant? Not happening. But training Chloe? That he could do. No guns involved, no freak accidents waiting to happen¡ªjust pure skill-building. And maybe, just maybe, she¡¯d be the first person in his life to actually benefit from his guidance without things going horribly wrong. She eyed him skeptically. ¡°And what¡¯s the ¡®best¡¯ for a lockpicker?¡± Maluck clapped his hands together. ¡°Glad you asked. Step one¡ªgrip strength. Ever tried twisting a tension wrench in a tough lock for five straight minutes?¡± Chloe shrugged. ¡°Not really. Locks don¡¯t usually fight back.¡± ¡°They will when you¡¯re working with high-end security systems,¡± he said. ¡°Now, let¡¯s get you hanging from that pull-up bar.¡± Chloe blinked. ¡°You want me to what?¡± ¡°Dead hangs,¡± Maluck said, pointing at the bar. ¡°Grab on and hang. No swinging, no kicking. Just your fingers keeping you there. If you can do a full minute, I¡¯ll be impressed.¡± She hesitated but eventually walked up to the bar. With a deep breath, she jumped and grabbed on. For about three seconds. Then she dropped like a sack of potatoes. ¡°¡­That was pathetic,¡± Maluck deadpanned. She rubbed her hands. ¡°I wasn¡¯t ready!¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± he said, tossing her a pair of hand grippers. ¡°Squeeze these. Ten reps, both hands. We¡¯ll build up those noodle fingers.¡± Chloe grumbled but obeyed. SQUEEZE SQUEEZE ¡°So what¡¯s next? You gonna make me punch bricks like a kung fu master?¡± ¡°Nah, but we are working on wrist and forearm strength,¡± Maluck said, handing her a dumbbell and motioning for her to sit. ¡°Wrist curls. This builds control and endurance¡ªgreat for long lockpicking sessions.¡± She raised an eyebrow. ¡°And by ¡®long lockpicking sessions,¡¯ you mean¡­?¡± ¡°Look, you never know how complicated a job might get,¡± he said. ¡°Some locks take time.¡± Chloe sighed, curling the dumbbell like she was lifting the weight of the conversation. They continued their workout for a while, sweat already starting to bead on Cloe¡¯s forehead. ¡°Anything else, Coach? I¡¯m already pooped.¡± She wiped her brow dramatically, looking like she might keel over at any moment. Maluck, ever the unflappable trainer, smirked at her. ¡°Oh, we¡¯re just getting started.¡± He handed her another weight, a slightly larger one, and Maluck eyed it with suspicion. ¡°These exercises are way harder than they looked when you were demonstrating them,¡± she muttered, trying to hold the weight at a weird angle to avoid looking too weak. The last thing she needed was for Maluck to think she was some kind of useless weakling. ¡°Of course they are,¡± Maluck said, not even looking up from his own set of squats. ¡°I make it look easy, but that¡¯s the art of a good trainer, right? Getting you to do the work while I just look cool.¡± Chloe glared at him, shifting the weight in her hand. ¡°Great, so this is just a chance for you to show off how much cooler you are than me?¡± He paused, half-smiling. ¡°Exactly.¡± ¡°Next.¡± Maluck smirked. ¡°Core strength. If you¡¯re sneaking through vents, crawling through tight spaces, or hanging from ledges, you¡¯re gonna need a rock-solid core.¡± ¡°¡­Why do all of these scenarios sound like they belong in a robbery?¡± He ignored that. ¡°Planks. Now.¡± Chloe rolled her eyes but got down on the mat. She lasted ten seconds before collapsing. THUD Maluck shook his head. ¡°Oh yeah, you¡¯re in great shape.¡± Chloe groaned into the floor. ¡°I am in great shape. Just not for whatever heist movie you think we¡¯re living in.¡± ¡°We¡¯re working on it,¡± Maluck said cheerfully. ¡°Alright, time for the practical skills. We¡¯re doing agility drills next.¡± Chloe sat up. ¡°Lemme guess. This is the part where I dodge lasers?¡± She made PEW PEW noises. ¡°No, but we are doing ladder drills and box jumps. You need speed and coordination.¡± Chloe groaned but got to her feet. ¡°I swear, if I don¡¯t get a secret agent job after this, I¡¯m billing you for my suffering.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°This is all for the greater good.¡± Thirty Minutes Later¡­ Chloe was out of breath after completing a set of one-minute sprints on the treadmill, training for the explosive speed she¡¯d need in case of a quick getaway. As she leaned against the machine, trying to catch her breath, Maluck handed her his phone. ¡°Here, while you¡¯re resting, watch these videos on how to break into safes,¡± he said. At this point, Chloe¡¯s brain was too exhausted to even question him. She just took the phone and started watching, grateful for any excuse to stop exercising. Maluck, on the other hand, was grinning ear to ear. ¡°This was great,¡± he said, checking his System notifications. No stat boosts yet for training Chloe, but this was progress. Chloe just shot him a death glare. ¡°If you make me do one more push-up, I will rob you in your sleep.¡± Maluck laughed. ¡°See? Now you¡¯re thinking like a pro.¡± CHAPTER 35 They finished their workout, and Maluck wiped the sweat off his forehead. ¡°You did a great job,¡± he said, trying to sound like the motivational coach he definitely wasn¡¯t. ¡°Let me take you to dinner. It¡¯s the least I can do after all this torture.¡± ¡®That¡¯s more like it!¡¯ Chloe thought, a satisfied smirk tugging at her lips. Chloe raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting to something playful. ¡°Sure, no problem, boss. Let¡¯s go somewhere fancy. Maybe a place with candles on the table and waiters who look like they¡¯re judging us for not knowing which fork to use.¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°Sounds good. Let me just toss my stuff in my room and change real quick. You can pick the place. I¡¯m all about the experience¡ªjust don¡¯t make me wear a tie.¡± ¡°Promise nothing,¡± Chloe said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. ¡°But I¡¯m choosing the most upscale, overpriced joint in town. Get ready for a whole new level of pretentiousness.¡± Maluck rolled his eyes but chuckled. ¡°As long as there¡¯s steak involved, I¡¯m in.¡± ¡°Sounds great,¡± Chloe said. ¡°I need a shower too.¡± Maluck shrugged. ¡°Well, if you want a shower, why don¡¯t you just use mine? It¡¯s better than the gym one.¡± Chloe shot him a look. ¡°Ohhh, and let me guess¡ªyou¡¯re also gonna suggest that you just happen to need a shower at the same time?¡± Maluck immediately raised his hands like a man caught in the middle of a very suspicious situation. ¡°I can go after. Besides, the bathroom has a lock. And unlike you, I¡¯m not a master thief who can pick it.¡± Chloe smirked. ¡°You better not try anything,¡± she said as they headed up to his room. After putting away his gym bag and grabbing some fresh clothes, Maluck heard a knock at the door. Weird. He wasn¡¯t expecting anyone. He opened it to find the hotel manager standing there, looking deeply uncomfortable. ¡°Uh¡­ what¡¯s up?¡± Maluck asked. The manager rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°This is going to sound crazy Mr. Tychandros, but is that young lady you were with earlier still here?¡± Maluck definitely wasn¡¯t expecting that question. He glanced toward the bathroom. The shower was still running. ¡°¡­Yeah?¡± he said slowly. The manager exhaled like he was about to ask for something wild. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know why this keeps happening today, but¡­¡± He hesitated. ¡°A, uh¡­ very important guest in the penthouse has lost the key to his personal wine cellar¡ª¡± Maluck blinked. ¡°¡ªI¡¯m sorry, his what?¡± The manager looked even more exhausted. ¡°His wine cellar.¡± Maluck crossed his arms. ¡°You¡¯re telling me there¡¯s some rich dude upstairs, throwing a tantrum because he locked himself out of his booze vault?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± the manager said, exasperated. ¡°And he¡¯s currently screaming at the concierge because he needs¡ªand I quote¡ªhis exquisite, irreplaceable bottle of 1947 Chateau Cheval Rouge for a business deal.¡± Maluck let out a low whistle. ¡°I feel like a dude who hoards wine in a hotel room doesn¡¯t actually have business deals. Just very expensive drinking habits.¡± ¡°Be that as it may,¡± the manager sighed, ¡°he¡¯s making a scene, and we cannot get into the cellar. Maintenance is taking forever, and our locksmith is stuck in traffic.¡± He looked even more awkward. ¡°So¡­ that young lady with you¡ªuh, she¡¯s¡­ rather skilled at opening locked things, yes?¡± If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Maluck narrowed his eyes. ¡°Are you seriously asking me to loan out my friend¡ª¡± (he emphasized that part), ¡°¡ªso she can break into some millionaire¡¯s secret booze stash?¡± The manager had the decency to look guilty. ¡°I mean¡­ yes?¡± Maluck let out a long sigh and knocked on the bathroom door. KNOCK KNOCK ¡°Hey, Chloe?¡± ¡°What?¡± she called over the running water. ¡°Change of plans.¡± A pause. Then, over the sound of the shower shutting off: He filled her in on the situation. ¡°You ok with helping out?¡± ¡°Depends. How fancy is this restaurant you¡¯re taking me to after?¡± Maluck smirked. ¡°Crack the safe, and we¡¯re eating somewhere stupidly expensive.¡± The bathroom door cracked open just enough for her to peek out, towel wrapped around her. ¡°¡­I expect super fancy,¡± she said. ¡°You got it.¡± ¡°Steak¡­covered in lobster¡­with caviar,,,¡± ¡°Fine.¡± With that, Chloe shut the door again, and Maluck turned back to the manager. ¡°Give her five minutes,¡± he said. ¡°Then we¡¯ll go get your guy¡¯s fancy booze.¡± *** Maluck followed the manager down the hallway with Chloe trailing behind, her arms crossed as she silently judged whatever nonsense they were about to walk into. When they reached the penthouse, the manager knocked politely before leading them inside. The moment Maluck stepped in, he immediately had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. The guest wasn¡¯t just rich¡ªhe was the obnoxious kind of rich. He lounged in an absurdly luxurious robe, the type you don¡¯t get for free from the hotel. This one was custom-made, embroidered with the initials JRA on the chest. Maluck immediately decided that stood for Just Another Rich Asshole. Finally, you¡¯re here,¡± the guest huffed, barely sparing them a glance as he adjusted his silk sleeve. ¡°Ah, Mr. Alroquette,¡± the manager said, putting on his best customer service voice. ¡°We¡¯ve found an excellent locksmith. She should be able to open that safe for you right away.¡± Alroquette finally turned his full attention to them, eyeing Chloe with obvious skepticism. ¡°Good, good. You have no idea how important this deal is,¡± he said, as if the fate of nations depended on the contents of his precious vault. ¡°I need this bottle. Otherwise, they¡¯re all going to laugh at me, because I promised to bring it. And you know how those rich people can be.¡± Maluck had to physically bite his tongue to keep from saying, Buddy, you are literally describing yourself. The manager, ever the professional, nodded in faux sympathy. ¡°Oh yes, of course, sir. Not everyone is as reasonable as you are.¡± ¡°That is so true,¡± Alroquette agreed, completely missing the sarcasm dripping from the man¡¯s tone. Meanwhile, Chloe was standing there, mentally retching at the sheer pretentiousness of this guy. The only thing keeping her from walking out was the mental image of a thick, juicy steak with lobster tail, drenched in butter and covered in caviar. That, and the fact that she really wanted to see what was in this ridiculous safe. *** Chloe stared at the safe, then leaned in and whispered, ¡°Maluck¡­ I¡¯ve never actually done this before, you know.¡± Maluck gave her a confident nod. ¡°I believe in you.¡± She exhaled. ¡°Well, the power of friendship is great and all, but I¡¯m gonna need some tools.¡± ¡°What do you need?¡± She rattled off a list she had seen was needed from those ViewTube videos, and Maluck immediately got to work. Thankfully, Improvisation: Excellent (Can MacGyver a solution out of duct tape and sheer willpower) meant he could turn a luxury hotel suite into a fully stocked criminal starter pack. First, he grabbed his phone and flicked on the flashlight. Basic, but effective. If people could use these things to scan QR menus, they could damn sure be used for safecracking. For listening in on the tumblers, he snatched a wine glass from the counter. If it was an old-school dial safe, Chloe could press the thin glass against the door and listen for the tumblers clicking into place. If it shattered? Well, that was just more bad luck points burned off. A fridge magnet strip was next. The mini-fridge in the room had a magnetic seal, and with some ¡°gentle persuasion¡± (a firm yank), he peeled off a strip. If that wasn¡¯t strong enough, maybe he could ¡°borrow¡± an elevator key card¡ªassuming he could get one from housekeeping. For actual lockpicking, he eyed Chloe¡¯s hair. ¡°You got more bobby pins in your hair?¡± She blinked. ¡°You think I always have them?¡± ¡°Well, I dunno, you are goth.¡± ¡°¡­Fair.¡± She pulled one out. If that wasn¡¯t enough, Maluck figured he could grab some paper clips from the front desk or, in a pinch, try using an old hotel key card to slide any latch mechanisms. For a last resort, he needed something for brute force. The hotel provided a basic grooming kit, which included a metal nail file¡ªclose enough to a mini pry bar. If they needed more leverage, he could ¡°borrow¡± a butter knife from room service or, if things got really dire, swipe a maintenance kit from a cleaning cart. Just to cover all bases, he snagged a tube of lip balm from the bathroom. If any mechanisms were too tight, a little lubrication wouldn¡¯t hurt. Satisfied with his collection of random junk, Maluck returned and dumped everything onto the floor. ¡°There. Your five-star black-market toolkit.¡± Chloe raised an eyebrow, picking up the fridge magnet. ¡°You yanked this off a mini-fridge?¡± Maluck shrugged. ¡°They won¡¯t care. Probably.¡± She sighed and cracked her knuckles. ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s open this rich idiot¡¯s wine vault.¡± *** CHAPTER 36 Chloe crouched in front of the safe, rolling her shoulders like a pro about to crack the biggest vault in history. Except instead of a high-tech lockpicking kit, she had a stolen mini-fridge magnet, a wine glass, and a butter knife. Truly, this was some peak MacGyver criminal activity. ¡°Alright,¡± she muttered, brushing her hair back. ¡°Hand me the, uh¡­ ¡®tools.¡¯¡± Maluck handed her the wine glass first. She pressed it against the side of the safe and listened closely, her ear practically glued to the glass like she was eavesdropping on a neighbor¡¯s juicy argument. CLICK. CLICK. ¡°¡­Okay, that¡¯s promising,¡± she whispered. Next, she took the mini-fridge magnet and started running it along the edges of the lock. If this was an electronic solenoid lock, the right positioning could disengage the mechanism¡ªessentially tricking the safe into thinking it had been properly unlocked. If not, well, she¡¯d just be rubbing a strip of improvised hotel property against a luxury safe like a confused idiot. For extra measure, she grabbed the butter knife, jamming it in between the paneling, wiggling it with slow, careful movements. That¡¯s when the System interrupted. [System Task] Give Chloe¡¯s butt a good tap. Maluck stared at the notification. ¡®No way. She¡¯d kill me.¡¯ [System Response] Do it. Look at that cute butt. Reward: 20 LP. Maluck gulped. Twenty LP was a lot. Almost enough for a full use of the Fortune Tuner. Almost enough for something good in the System Store. But also¡­ enough to get his ass kicked if he got caught. Chloe twisted the butter knife a little more. ¡°Pass me that bobby pin,¡± she muttered. This was his chance. His only chance. He faked a stumble, let out a very realistic ¡°whoops,¡± and patted her butt in the process. Chloe shot up like a cat that had just seen a cucumber. ¡°WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!¡± Maluck threw on his best innocent, I¡¯m-a-good-boy face. ¡°Sorry, I tripped.¡± He sold it hard, even glancing at the floor as if searching for a mysterious obstacle that had caused this tragic accident. Chloe squinted at him. HARD. For a moment, Maluck was certain he was going to get drop-kicked into the afterlife. Then she sighed. ¡°Whatever. Just¡ªDON¡¯T distract me.¡± The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. She turned back to the safe. Maluck forced himself to breathe normally, but inside? Pure celebration. [System Notification] Task Completed. Reward: 5 LP. Wait¡ªwhat?! He barely held back a groan. THE SYSTEM SHORTCHANGED HIM. [System Response] You barely passed that test, but I¡¯ll give you some pity points. Maluck scowled, but internally, he was still fist-pumping. LP was LP. And most importantly? He was still ALIVE. Chloe, completely unaware of his internal struggles, went back to work. With a final twist of the knife, a flick of the bobby pin, and a magnet held in just the right spot, she popped the safe open like she¡¯d been doing this for years. The vault clicked. The door creaked open. And sitting inside? A 1947 Chateau Cheval Rouge¡ªa bottle of liquid gold that the rich idiot was willing to throw a major tantrum over. Chloe sat back on her heels, looking at her work. ¡°Holy shit,¡± she breathed. Maluck, still riding the high of not getting punched, grinned. ¡°See? Told you you were talented.¡± She smirked, standing up. ¡°Yeah, that was surprisingly fun.¡± *** The guest and the hotel manager beamed like they had just witnessed a miracle. The sheer relief in the manager¡¯s face was something Maluck had only ever seen in lottery winners and parents who just found out their kid isn¡¯t actually the one who clogged the toilet. The guest, still admiring his precious bottle like it was his firstborn child, turned to Maluck and Chloe with grand enthusiasm. ¡°Your company was fantastic! I will definitely be recommending you to my friends.¡± Maluck opened his mouth to clarify that they weren¡¯t a company, but before he could say anything, the hotel manager awkwardly cleared his throat. ¡°Err¡­ actually, Mr. Tychandros is a guest here, and, uh, this is his¡­ lady friend.¡± Chloe immediately gagged. ¡°Excuse me? Lady friend? What am I, a 1700s mistress?¡± The guest blinked in surprise, looking back at Maluck as if reevaluating him entirely. ¡°Well then,¡± the guest said, ¡°thank you, Mr. Tychandros.¡± Maluck nearly choked. ¡°Uh, it¡¯s just Maluck.¡± The guest smiled. ¡°Maluck. Well, you can call me Jonathan, then.¡± He pulled out a sleek, matte-black business card with gold-embossed lettering that practically screamed ¡®I wipe my ass with hundred-dollar bills¡¯. ¡°But still,¡± Jonathan continued, extending the card to Maluck. ¡°Here¡ªtake my business card. If you ever need anything, give me a call. And in fact, since we¡¯re both staying at this hotel, why don¡¯t we just exchange contacts?¡± Maluck didn¡¯t even hesitate. ¡®Never hurts to have another rich friend.¡¯ Especially one who owed him a favor. ¡°Sure,¡± Maluck said, smoothly taking the card and tapping his phone against Jonathan¡¯s for an instant contact exchange. Jonathan grinned. ¡°Excellent. I¡¯ll be in touch.¡± As he turned to leave, Maluck caught Chloe watching the interaction with narrowed eyes. ¡°What?¡± he asked. Chloe smirked. ¡°Look at you, making connections, getting fancy business cards. You sure you¡¯re not some secret conman?¡± Maluck grinned back. ¡°Hey, if I was, you¡¯d be my lockpicking sidekick.¡± Chloe rolled her eyes. ¡°Yeah, yeah. Now let¡¯s go get that dinner. I just cracked a rich guy¡¯s safe. I deserve pampering.¡± Maluck, business card in pocket and LP climbing steadily, couldn¡¯t agree more. *** Maluck leaned casually against the doorframe, watching Chloe as she double-checked her reflection in the mirror. ¡°Did you want to dress up before we go somewhere fancy?¡± he asked. She turned and narrowed her eyes at him. ¡°What? My outfit isn¡¯t nice enough for you?¡± Maluck immediately backpedaled, holding up his hands defensively. ¡°No, no, it¡¯s a great outfit! Love it. Super goth. Very¡­ murder-at-a-funeral chic.¡± Chloe crossed her arms, clearly unconvinced. He sighed and gestured at her Sisters of Mercifulness band tee, ripped jeans, and combat boots that had clearly seen some shit. ¡°Look, I think it¡¯s great. But you were the one who said you wanted to go somewhere fancy. So it¡¯s up to you if you want to change.¡± Chloe hesitated. She knew her outfit wasn¡¯t exactly fine dining material, and she also knew that her closet back home contained absolutely nothing that could pass as ¡°elegant.¡± Maluck saw the look on her face and grinned. ¡°You know what? I love your goth style, so why don¡¯t we go shopping first? Consider it a bonus for cracking that safe.¡± Her eyes lit up. ¡°Seriously?¡± Goth or not, she was still a girl, and shopping was shopping. ¡°Hell yeah,¡± Maluck said. ¡°Why don¡¯t we pick out a really fancy dress for you, and I¡¯ll get myself a matching suit?¡± Chloe pretended to think about it for a second, but her mind was already made up. ¡°That sounds great, boss.¡± ¡°Boss?¡± Maluck snorted. ¡°Alright, employee, first task¡ªfind a place that sells fancy clothes.¡± She pulled out her phone. ¡°Already on it.¡± And with that, they set off on a shopping spree for clothes suitable for fine dining but make it spooky. CHAPTER 37 The store Chloe found was a high-end gothic boutique called Nocturne Elegance, which, based on the absurdity of its name alone, screamed expensive as hell. The moment they walked in, Maluck could feel his wallet trembling in fear. This wasn¡¯t some Hot Crypt mall store selling cheap velvet and tacky plastic lace. Oh no. This was REAL Victorian-inspired gothic fashion. The kind that looked like you were either about to haunt an old mansion or sue an industrialist for your dead husband¡¯s inheritance. Chandeliers cast a dim, dramatic glow, illuminating racks of flowing black gowns, corset bodices that probably required a degree in mechanical engineering to put on, and lace gloves that served no actual purpose except to say, ¡°I¡¯m richer than you.¡± Chloe was in her element. The instant she saw a floor-length black dress with intricate lace sleeves, a corset-style waist, and subtle purple embroidery that made it look like she had just risen from her crypt to seduce a poet, her eyes sparkled in a way Maluck had only seen when he turned in a winning scratcher. ¡°This. Is. Beautiful,¡± she whispered, reverently running her fingers over the fabric. Maluck looked at the insane price tag hanging off it. $4,500. He nearly choked on his own soul. ¡°¡­Chloe,¡± he said slowly. ¡°This dress costs more than my first car.¡± ¡°Yeah, but I bet your first car was a piece of shit, based on your current car,¡± she said dreamily, still admiring the gown. ¡°That¡¯s not the point!¡± Maluck hissed. ¡°For that much money, that dress better come with a personal butler, a will that guarantees me an estate, and at least one ghostly ancestor offering cryptic warnings.¡± Chloe ignored him completely, already heading for the changing room. A few minutes later, she emerged¡ªand Maluck had to admit, it was worth every damn penny. She looked like a vampire duchess who had just poisoned her fifth husband for his fortune. The dress fit like a dream, hugging her waist, flowing dramatically as she moved, and making her look ridiculously expensive. Maluck blinked. ¡°Okay, yeah. You might be able to seduce Dracula in that.¡± Chloe smirked. ¡°Good. I heard he¡¯s loaded.¡± Maluck sighed and pulled out his credit card of pain. ¡®Time to sell that comic book.¡¯ *** Maluck stared at the soul-crushing number on the receipt. Between Chloe¡¯s gothic aristocrat ensemble and his own ridiculously overpriced suit ($3000), he had burned through his cash reserves faster than a sketchy offshore crypto exchange. ¡®What the hell happened?¡¯ He had been rich. Well, rich by his standards. That was before he had started acting like a king, throwing money at clothes, five-star meals, and luxury hotels like he was a trust-fund baby with no concept of budgeting. And now? His bank account was looking at him like a concerned parent watching their kid fail basic math. Yeah, definitely time to liquidate some assets¡ªaka, sell that XXX-Men #1 comic book he¡¯d picked up at a pawn shop for a literal dollar. That, or it was casino time. He checked his inventory, and there it was¡ªthe Probability Charm, practically begging for attention. ¡°Use me¡­ feeeeed me LPs¡­¡± Maluck swore it was whispering to him like some kind of cursed artifact from a fantasy novel. The way it just sat there in his inventory, glowing faintly, waiting¡­ it was almost creepy. But also? Incredibly tempting. ¡°Alright, alright, I get it,¡± he muttered, cracking his knuckles. ¡°Time to feed the beast.¡± Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. He could pay for dinner with his Visex card, which currently held more debt than a college student, and then use cash for a casino roll. It was the financial equivalent of digging yourself out of a hole by using a slightly bigger shovel. And just as he finalized his genius plan, a System Task popped up. [System Task: Bet Big or Go Home] Your pockets are light, my dude. Time to refill them. Win at least $15,000 in one night. System bonus to be determined based on style and audacity. Maluck grinned. Time to make some magic happen. But first dinner! *** Maluck felt just a little ridiculous as he pulled up to one of Calgary¡¯s fanciest restaurants in his extremely reliable but absolutely-not-fancy car. Chloe, looking like gothic royalty in her absurdly expensive dress, raised an eyebrow. ¡°You sure this thing¡¯s gonna make it?¡± Maluck patted the dashboard like a beloved but slightly unreliable pet. ¡°She¡¯s a warrior. Been through worse.¡± He hoped that was true. Actually, no, he did more than hope. Before they left, he had done some preventative maintenance¡ªthe System way. He had checked his BP¡ªsitting at a nervous 12. Not horrific, but definitely high enough to make a breakdown an uncomfortable possibility. So he had cracked open a few Koala Kolas. The sacrifice of carbonation and artificial flavoring worked immediately. His BP dropped to 6. Great! Except then¡­ he started winning free sodas. Each time he looked at the tab, he racked up more wins, and the System recognized the good luck. His BP climbed back up to 8. He stopped immediately. Apparently, the Bad Luck tax had a floor, and if he tried to game the system too hard, it fought back. ¡°Well, that¡¯s good to know,¡± he muttered, pocketing his stack of free soda tabs. They pulled into the restaurant¡¯s valet area. And wow. The place was so fancy it hurt. A line of luxury cars stretched along the entrance¡ªsleek black sports cars, opulent Rolls-Royces, and a Bentley that probably cost more than his entire lifetime earnings. Meanwhile, Maluck¡¯s completely unremarkable ride rolled in like an enthusiastic but underfunded contestant in a high-stakes beauty pageant. The valet gave it a look that said this is beneath me but still nodded professionally. ¡°Welcome, sir. May I park your vehicle?¡± ¡°Yeah, just¡­ be gentle with her.¡± The valet gave him the kind of forced customer service smile that said, ¡®I¡¯m getting minimum wage to park Lamborgs, and you¡¯re worried about this junkmobile?¡¯ Chloe snickered as they stepped out. ¡°Nothing like showing up at a five-star restaurant in a vehicle with a suspiciously squeaky fan belt.¡± Maluck sighed. ¡°It adds character.¡± A System Notification popped up. [System Task: Fake It Till You Make It] You may not be rich, but you better act like you belong. Handle this meal like an absolute high roller. System bonuses to be determined based on confidence, class, and sheer audacity. Maluck grinned. Oh, he could do audacity. *** The hostess greeted them with a cheery, professional smile, her eyes sweeping over their outfits with approval. Good. That meant she hadn¡¯t seen Maluck¡¯s completely out-of-place car being dragged away by an underpaid valet. ¡°Do you have a reservation?¡± she asked politely. Chloe looked at Maluck expectantly. She knew they didn¡¯t have reservations, the whole thing was her last minute choice, He smiled, oozing casual confidence. ¡°No, we decided to come last minute.¡± The hostess¡¯s smile dimmed ever so slightly. She glanced at her table chart, then gave him an unfortunate, well-practiced look. The ¡°Oh, poor thing, you really thought you could just walk in?¡± face. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. We¡¯re very full this evening,¡± she said in a tone dripping with regret. Maluck nodded slowly, as if he were contemplating the deeper meaning of life and not just trying to get a table. ¡°No openings at all?¡± She gave him a sympathetic shake of the head. ¡°The earliest we could accommodate you would be two days from now at 4 p.m.¡± Maluck considered this problem. This wasn¡¯t a barbecue joint, where flashing a thousand bucks would make miracles happen. Hell, the average meal here cost a thousand bucks. His bankroll did not allow for waving around ten grand like a big shot. But luck was on his side. Because just out of the corner of his eye¡ª He spotted his brand-new rich asshole friend. Jackpot. Maluck snapped his fingers like he just had an epiphany. ¡°Wait a second, I believe a friend of mine is here.¡± The hostess raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°Mind if I call him?¡± Maluck asked. She kept her professional smile, but the doubt was written all over it. ¡°Be my guest.¡± Then, her voice dropped slightly. ¡°But call him. Don¡¯t walk up to his table.¡± Damn. He was totally planning on casually strolling over like he owned the place. Whatever. He pulled out his phone and shot a message to Jonathan. Maluck: Hey! Coincidentally at the same restaurant. No reservation. Any chance you know someone here? Meanwhile¡­ Jonathan had been in the middle of telling his dinner companions a very exaggerated tale about his most recent ¡°business deal.¡± AKA: The wine bottle safe fiasco. And his friends were eating it up. Then his phone buzzed. He glanced at the message, did a double-take, and immediately started grinning. ¡°Oh my goodness. You guys won¡¯t believe who just texted me.¡± ¡°Who?¡± one of his friends asked, sipping their glass of wine. Jonathan dramatically held up his phone. ¡°The guy who saved my wine.¡± A chorus of ¡°No ways and laughter filled the table. Jonathan, loving the attention, leaned back. ¡°And he wants a table.¡± His friend, a bored-looking hedge fund guy, smirked. ¡°Help him out then. Consider it a reward for services rendered.¡± Jonathan nodded, messaging back quickly. Jonathan: Give me a sec. He walked over to the hostess, who was still standing at the podium, watching him. ¡°Hey, darling, can you do me a favor?¡± She immediately perked up. ¡°Of course, Mr. Alroquette.¡± Jonathan gestured toward Maluck. ¡°This guy¡ªhe¡¯s with me. Find him a table.¡± The hostess¡¯s entire demeanor shifted. ¡°Right away, sir.¡± She turned back to Maluck with a perfectly polished, VIP-welcoming smile. ¡°We actually just had a table open up. Right this way.¡± Maluck grinned at Chloe as they followed her inside. ¡°See? Told you I¡¯d make it happen.¡± Chloe rolled her eyes. *** CHAPTER 38 The meal was nothing short of extravagant. The kind of dinner that would make accountants cry and financial advisors quit in frustration. The restaurant wasn¡¯t just expensive¡ªit was borderline ridiculous. Every detail screamed opulence, from the imported Italian marble floors to the chandelier that probably cost more than Maluck¡¯s car. The menu wasn¡¯t so much a list of food as it was a declaration of wealth. There was no such thing as just ¡°steak.¡± No, they served Imperial Wagyu Filet, massaged by hand, serenaded with classical music, and flown in on a private jet. The price? A casual $500 per plate. Chloe, despite her bad ass exterior, had a soft spot for fancy food. She ordered the Butter-Poached Lobster with Beluga Caviar, a dish so decadent that the menu didn¡¯t even list the price. If you had to ask, you couldn¡¯t afford it. The waiter had simply given Maluck a subtle nod, the universal sign for ¡°We both know this is going to hurt, but it¡¯ll look impressive.¡± For sides, they didn¡¯t have simple mashed potatoes. No, they had Hand-Whipped Truffle Potato Pur¨¦e, which sounded fancy but was basically mashed potatoes for people with stock portfolios. The bread? Baked with gold leaf and Himalayan pink salt, because why not? Even the water was served in crystal glasses and had some story about being sourced from a glacier that no longer existed. As they ate, Chloe looked visibly pleased, even if she made sarcastic remarks between bites. ¡°So, what¡¯s it like to know your bank account is currently hemorrhaging?¡± she teased, taking another luxurious bite of her lobster. Maluck smirked, swirling his aged, barrel-fermented whiskey¡ªa glass that cost more than most people¡¯s monthly grocery bill. ¡°I try not to think about it,¡± he said, taking a sip. Goddamn, that¡¯s smooth. ¡°Besides, I have a plan.¡± She arched an eyebrow. ¡°Does it involve selling a kidney?¡± ¡°Nah,¡± he said, setting his glass down. ¡°Just selling a rare comic book and maybe a small trip to the casino. You know, responsible financial planning.¡± By the time dessert arrived¡ªa handmade chocolate souffl¨¦ with a molten gold center¡ªMaluck was already preparing himself for the moment of financial devastation. The waiter came over with the bill, sliding it onto the table with all the solemnity of a man delivering bad news to a wealthy widow. Maluck took a deep breath and turned it over. $1,200. He could hear his Visex credit card screaming in agony before he even reached for it. He punched in the tip manually, making sure to leave the waiter a solid $400. The man gave him a look of genuine appreciation, a rare thing in a place where most customers probably tipped out of obligation rather than generosity. Chloe watched with a mix of amusement and admiration. ¡°You really went all in, huh?¡± she said as they stood up to leave. Maluck grinned, feeling slightly numb as the system popped up with a notification. [System Task Complete] Be Arrogantly Wealthy Valet: No bonus Hostess: No bonus Waiter: +20 LP ¡°At least my System thinks I¡¯m a good tipper,¡± Maluck muttered under his breath. Chloe shot him a confused look, but he just waved it off. They walked out of the restaurant, Maluck with significantly less money and Chloe with a smug satisfaction that only an amazing meal could provide. ¡°Alright, boss,¡± she said, stretching. ¡°Where to next? Gonna roll your financial future on a craps table?¡± Maluck smirked. ¡°Damn right I am.¡± *** Maluck walked into the casino feeling like a man with a plan¡ªor at least, a man who was about to roll some dice and pray to whatever higher powers managed probability. But he had an edge. A beautiful, System-given edge. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. He casually touched his Bad Luck Bracelet and rubbed the Probability Charm, feeling its cool surface against his fingertips. A slight tingling sensation ran up his arm, almost like static electricity. It was subtle, but he knew what it meant. His odds had just improved by 10%. It wasn¡¯t an ¡°instant win¡± button, but it was damn well close enough. He cashed in his chips, took a deep breath, and sauntered over to the craps table. Chloe, ever skeptical, followed behind, arms crossed. ¡°So let me get this straight,¡± she said. ¡°Your grand plan to financial stability is¡­ gambling?¡± ¡°Technically, it''s a strategic probability-based financial investment,¡± Maluck corrected. She snorted. ¡°Right. And I¡¯m the queen of England.¡± Maluck ignored her and placed his first bet. The dealer called for shooters. Maluck picked up the dice, feeling their weight in his hands, and rolled. Seven. Win. He blinked. Well, that was nice. He rolled again. Another seven. The dealer gave him a look¡ªhalf impressed, half suspicious. A few of the other gamblers at the table muttered amongst themselves. Maluck just smiled, stacking his winnings. Chloe leaned in, whispering, ¡°Okay, even I know that¡¯s kind of weird.¡± Maluck shrugged. ¡°Beginner¡¯s luck.¡± She gave him a deadpan stare. ¡°You¡¯ve played craps before.¡± ¡°Intermediate beginner¡¯s luck.¡± She sighed, leaning back and watching as he kept rolling like a man possessed. Eight. Win. Nine. Win. Another seven. Win. The stack of chips in front of him grew larger and larger, and Maluck could feel that thrill of momentum. The Probability Charm wasn¡¯t a guaranteed win, but it nudged the odds in his favor just enough that he was winning way more than losing. By the time he was up $10,000, the pit boss had started hovering nearby. Chloe nudged him. ¡°Hey, uh¡­ casino security is giving you that look.¡± Maluck glanced up, catching sight of the suit-wearing overseers whispering to each other while side-eyeing him like he¡¯d just counted cards in blackjack or hacked a slot machine. ¡°Yeah, I see them,¡± he muttered. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. It¡¯s not illegal to be lucky.¡± ¡°Maybe, but there¡¯s ¡®lucky¡¯ and then there¡¯s whatever the hell you¡¯re doing.¡± The pit boss finally walked over, all polite smiles and barely veiled suspicion. ¡°Sir, you¡¯ve had quite the streak. May I ask if you¡¯d like to cash out or perhaps enjoy a complimentary drink in our VIP lounge?¡± Maluck knew exactly what that meant. It was polite casino-speak for: ¡°We can¡¯t prove you¡¯re cheating, but we¡¯d really like you to leave before you bankrupt us.¡± He considered pushing his luck a little further, but his System-trained instincts told him it was time to walk away while he was ahead. Chloe let out a low whistle as he cashed out a cool $15,000 and stuffed the neatly bundled cash into his pockets. ¡°You actually pulled it off,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m equal parts impressed and surprised.¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°Well, when you¡¯ve got the right kind of luck, anything¡¯s possible.¡± Maluck decided it was time to call it a night. He had hit his $15,000 goal, and that was good enough for him. [System Task Complete!] You hit $15,000, barely, and then got kicked out. It was polite, but still, you were kicked out. Bonus: +5 LP That 5 LP was a nice bonus because using the Probability Charm had cost him. Every roll of the dice had cost him LP regardless of the outcome. He had used 25 LPs in total. So with the task bonus it only cost him 20 LP for the night. Maluck and Chloe slid into a couple of high-backed bar stools at the casino¡¯s ritzy lounge, the kind of place where drinks came in glasses so polished they looked illegal to touch. The bar itself was a sleek, glowing masterpiece, stocked with bottles of alcohol that probably cost more than his first car. Before Maluck could even wave down a bartender, a sharply dressed pit boss approached them with the kind of grin that only came from watching a high roller bleed money at the tables. ¡°Mr. Maluck, congratulations on your win tonight,¡± the pit boss said smoothly, nodding toward the stack of fresh bills in Maluck¡¯s pocket. ¡°We¡¯d love to offer you and your lovely companion a voucher for $50 on the house. You can use it for anything on the menu. A small token of our appreciation for choosing to play here.¡± Maluck smirked. Of course, they were comping his drinks. The casino knew the game¡ªget the winners just tipsy enough to think they were invincible, then watch them march right back to the tables to lose everything. ¡°Well, who am I to turn down free drinks?¡± Maluck said, throwing a wink at Chloe. Chloe crossed her arms. ¡°Oh, so now you¡¯re a VIP, huh? One hot streak and they¡¯re rolling out the red carpet.¡± ¡°Hey, don¡¯t be jealous,¡± Maluck teased. ¡°Besides, I fully intend to enjoy my VIP privileges before they figure out I¡¯m taking them for a ride.¡± The bartender, a guy with the kind of slicked-back hair that screamed I make more in tips than a doctor, set down two extravagant cocktails in front of them. Maluck¡¯s was some kind of bourbon-laced concoction, complete with a single oversized ice cube and an orange peel twisted into a perfect spiral. Chloe¡¯s was a deep red drink in a crystal glass, garnished with a blackberry on a silver skewer. She eyed it suspiciously. ¡°This better not taste like cough syrup.¡± Maluck lifted his own glass and clinked it against hers. ¡°To absurd amounts of luck and even more absurd amounts of spending.¡± Chloe smirked and took a sip. Her eyes widened slightly, and she grudgingly admitted, ¡°Alright, that¡¯s actually really good.¡± ¡°See? Even the universe wants me to enjoy myself tonight,¡± Maluck said, swirling his drink before downing a sip. Smooth. Expensive. Tasted like winning. Chloe leaned against the bar, tapping her nails against her glass. ¡°So, now that you¡¯re loaded again, what¡¯s the plan? Gonna invest in something sensible, or are we about to blow this on an even dumber adventure?¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°Oh, definitely the second option.¡± *** CHAPTER 39 Over drinks, they got to know each other more. Maluck told her about the sheer absurdity of his bad luck, regaling her with one particular incident involving aggressive geese that had Chloe laughing so hard she snorted. She immediately slapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late¡ªMaluck had caught it. ¡°Oh no, no, no,¡± he teased, grinning. ¡°That was a full-on snort. You¡¯re never living that down.¡± Chloe rolled her eyes, still grinning. ¡°Shut up. You nearly getting bitten by a goose twice in the same day is objectively hilarious.¡± Maluck shrugged, taking another sip of his drink. ¡®My life is kind of funny,¡¯ he thought. ¡®Not so funny if you¡¯re the one actually suffering the bad luck, but still, funny nonetheless.¡¯ That¡¯s when his system chimed in. [System Task Completed] Get Chloe to want to make out with you. +.01 Charisma Maluck nearly choked on his bourbon. Huh. Look at that. An afternoon of safe-cracking, a fancy dinner, and winning fifteen grand at the casino had apparently added up to¡­ well, this. Not that he was going to mention it, of course. He wasn¡¯t suicidal. As they strolled out of the casino, Chloe shook her head in amusement. ¡°So what now, Lucky McLuckface? Gonna buy a yacht? Maybe a pet tiger?¡± ¡°Nah,¡± Maluck said, stretching. ¡°But I am gonna get a damn good night¡¯s sleep in my five-star hotel. Wanna join?¡± Chloe raised an eyebrow. ¡°Wow. Smooth.¡± He gave her his most confident grin. ¡°What can I say? Charisma¡¯s on the rise.¡± She snorted again¡ªand this time, she didn¡¯t even try to cover it. ¡°Alright, alright. Let¡¯s go, Mr. Moneybags.¡± And just like that, Maluck had gone from near financial ruin to rolling in cash and was going to spend the night with a hot goth girl, all in the span of a single evening. God, he loved his system. *** He woke up in the morning and groggily pulled up his stat sheet. He was really starting to enjoy this whole ¡°wake up and check how life is going in numbers¡± routine. Bad Luck Points (BP): 32 Luck Points (LP): 117 Strength (Str): 1.07 Intelligence (Int): 1.16 Charisma (Cha): 1.02 Health (HP): 0.99 Dexterity (Dex): 1.02 Wisdom (Wis): 1.12 Constitution (Con): 1.02 Endurance (End): 1.05 Perception (Per): 1.12 Cash: $24,500 (Cash + Bank) Visex Bill: $12,000 ¡°Wait a second¡­ when the hell did my stat sheet start tracking my banking summary?¡± Maluck muttered. [System Response] Well, having more stuff is awesome, and keeping track of it? Even more awesome. You¡¯re doing a great job. Keep getting more stuff. Get more loot. Get more money. What¡¯s the point of having a System if you aren¡¯t going to take advantage of it, right? Maluck squinted at the response. ¡°Hold up. That¡¯s exactly the reverse of what you told me two days ago when you were going on about moderation and balance and not hoarding riches¡ªand now you want me to go full-on goblin mode? What is your next plan? For me to hoard a dragon¡¯s pile of gold and then donate it all to charity later?¡± [System Response] ¡°Charity? Pfft. Don¡¯t be ridiculous. This is your hard-earned money. Go forth. Conquer. Get rich. MONEY. MONEY. MONEY.¡± Maluck rubbed his temples. ¡°System¡­ are you broken?¡± The system didn¡¯t respond. ¡°¡­Or are you actually just a bunch of aliens running a cosmic game show and betting on my life?¡± [System Response] No. That¡¯s just stupid. ¡°¡­Fair enough.¡± Once again, just like day one, he reminded himself not to piss off the System. Life was good right now. No need to go poking existential bears. Now that he was rich again (for now), he pulled up the System Store to see what goodies were available. (600 LP) The Wishbone of Reality ¨C Snap it in half, and your next wish comes true. Regenerates after a week. (125 LP) The Jinx Jar ¨C Can absorb bad luck when shaken. Must be emptied somewhere else or risk doubling the curse. (100 LP) The Lucky Watch ¨C Time always seems to be on your side while wearing it. Never late, never too early. Maluck tapped his chin. The Wishbone of Reality was way too expensive. Hard pass. The Jinx Jar was tempting¡ªthe idea of bottling up his cursed existence and dumping it somewhere else was hilarious¡ªbut knowing his luck, he¡¯d forget to empty it and wake up to trip over air and break his own face. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Next. Then he saw it. The Lucky Watch. Time always on his side? Never being late? No more racing to gas stations at 11:59 PM like a madman to buy last-minute scratchers? YES. Maluck hit BUY. [System Response] Excellent choice. With this, you¡¯ll always be exactly where you need to be, right when you need to be there. No more wasting time in long lines or missing out on golden opportunities. Everything, from now on, will fall right into your hands¡ªeffortlessly, smoothly, and, best of all, profitably. A sleek, silver wristwatch materialized on his wrist. It wasn¡¯t gaudy, no diamond-encrusted monstrosity. Just clean, elegant, and dangerously expensive-looking. He checked the time. 10:47 AM. Perfect timing to do absolutely whatever the hell he wanted. He smirked. ¡°Alright, Lucky Watch, let¡¯s see what you can do.¡± *** Maluck stretched, feeling dangerously content as he sat back in his chair, watching the queen of the dead herself blink sleepily at the breakfast spread before her. The smell of fresh coffee and crispy bacon had done the hard work of waking her up¡ªwell, that, and the KNOCK, KNOCK of room service rolling in with two perfectly plated meals. Chloe yawned, stretching like a cat before reaching for the nearest coffee cup. ¡°Mmm¡­ I could get used to this.¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°You mean waking up to a five-star breakfast? Or waking up in my bed?¡± She shot him a glare over her coffee. ¡°The breakfast, dummy.¡± ¡°Right, right.¡± He smirked. ¡°Well, enjoy it while you can, because today¡¯s the second day of your training.¡± Chloe immediately pouted, like a child told she had to do homework. ¡°Ugh. More training? Can¡¯t we just lounge around and be rich instead?¡± ¡°Hey, you don¡¯t become the world¡¯s best thief by skipping days.¡± He said it as if he were some wise old mentor in a kung-fu flick. She groaned, dramatically dropping her toast onto her plate. ¡°For the last time, I never said I wanted to be the world¡¯s best thief.¡± Maluck simply waved his fork. ¡°Yeah, yeah, but it would be a waste of your hidden potential if you didn¡¯t.¡± She stared at him, chewing on that thought for a moment. ¡°You really believe that?¡± He pointed at her with his fork. ¡°I know that. You¡¯re already scary good, and you haven¡¯t even tried. Imagine what you¡¯ll be able to do once you actually put effort into it.¡± Chloe sighed and sipped her coffee. ¡°Fine. What¡¯s the plan, then? More running from imaginary cops?¡± Maluck shook his head. ¡°You¡¯re on your own for training today. You¡¯ll do the gym routine I gave you, spend more time on ViewTube learning safe cracking, and I¡¯ll be off selling this comic book.¡± He pulled out the bagged and boarded issue from his inventory and placed it on the table with a flourish. Chloe raised an eyebrow. ¡°Wait¡­ you still haven¡¯t sold that thing? How much is it worth anyway?¡± Maluck had already looked it up earlier, and his wallet practically moaned in anticipation at the number. He smirked. ¡°A pretty penny.¡± Chloe looked between him and the comic. ¡°How pretty?¡± ¡°Well, let¡¯s just say that if all goes well, tonight¡¯s dinner is going to make yesterday¡¯s look like a drive-thru meal.¡± Her eyes sparkled. ¡°Ohhh. Steak AND lobster again?¡± He winked. ¡°Maybe steak, lobster, AND caviar.¡± Chloe leaned back, stretching again. ¡°Alright, fine. I¡¯ll hit the gym. But I swear to god, Maluck, if I come back sore as hell, you better be ready to pay for a full-body massage.¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°Deal. Now eat up. You¡¯ll need your strength.¡± Chloe rolled her eyes but dug in, while Maluck sat back, enjoying his coffee, cash-filled future, and the undeniable satisfaction of knowing that his life was finally starting to feel pretty damn lucky. *** What Maluck didn¡¯t like the fact that he was sitting at 32 bad luck points. That was just an accident waiting to happen. He quickly popped open two Koala Kolas, watching the number tick down to 30. Chloe, still groggy and sipping her coffee, raised an eyebrow. ¡°Soda? This early in the morning?¡± He took a swig and shrugged. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. It¡¯s just a¡­ bad habit of mine.¡± Chloe stared at him for a second longer, then shook her head. ¡°You do you, man.¡± With that, he grabbed his keys and headed for the door. Time to sell that XXX-Men #1 comic. That thing was his golden ticket, and if he played it smart, it could net him a huge payday. But just as he reached the parking lot, something weird happened. He checked his newly purchased Lucky Watch¡ªjust out of curiosity. And there, on the display, in a way that was both unnerving and way too personal, were the words: DON¡¯T GO. Maluck blinked. ¡°What the hell?¡± He tapped the watch face like it was a glitchy phone screen, but the message didn¡¯t change. He glanced around the lot, half-expecting some Final Destination nonsense to happen¡ªa loose tire bouncing toward him, a suspiciously wobbly streetlight, or maybe a random freak pigeon attack. Nothing. He frowned, considering his options. The comic book store was the plan. But this watch was clearly telling him nope, bad idea, turn around, idiot. And considering the watch¡¯s entire purpose was making sure he didn¡¯t get screwed over by time-related stupidity, he figured ignoring it would be the dumbest possible move. Fine. New plan. He pulled out his stack of winning scratch-off tickets and smirked. Why not cash these in instead? If the comic book sale was a bad idea, maybe it just wasn¡¯t time yet. But turning in literal free money at the lottery center? That was always a great idea. He climbed into his car, cranked the engine, and made a U-turn out of the hotel lot. Destination: Easy Money. As Maluck drove toward the lottery center, he figured, why not make a few extra stops? He was already on his way to cash in his winnings¡ªmight as well grab a few more tickets along the way. You know, reinvest. Yup! The Appraisal lens has been recharged. So, naturally, he hit up a couple of gas stations and a 7/24 or two. A few scratches later, boom¡ªanother $6,000 in winnings. He stared at the total stack in his hands. Over $10,000 in lottery tickets. Something about that number felt wrong. Like, sure, he¡¯d been rolling in luck lately, but walking into a government-run lottery center and slapping down five figures in tickets felt like the fastest way to get some CRA-level attention. ¡®I don¡¯t know if turning over $10K is a good idea,¡¯ he thought. ¡®Feels like the kind of number that makes people ask questions.¡¯ Questions Maluck absolutely did not want to answer. So, he did what any sensible person would do¡ªstashed $1,000 worth of winning tickets into his glove box for later. You know, for casual cash-ins at random convenience stores. That left him with exactly $9,180 to turn in¡ªcomfortably under the suspicious amount. Feeling pretty pleased with himself, he strolled into the lottery center, winnings in hand, trying to look as casual as humanly possible. Which, in hindsight, was impossible. Because nobody walks into a lottery office with nearly ten grand of lottery tickets and looks normal. Especially when you¡¯re grinning like a lunatic and actively trying not to look like you just robbed a gas station. *** He did his best to keep his grin in check, but internally, he was already planning his next move. Cashing in these tickets meant more money in his bankroll, which meant more spending power, which meant more chances to make even more money. The cycle of winning was beautiful. But as he stepped up to the counter, he suddenly realized something else¡ªhis Appraiser¡¯s Lens timer was ticking down. He was still hoping to get more use out of it today! Two hours left. Shit. CHAPTER 40 His mental checklist kicked into high gear as he stood there waiting. First, lottery payout time¡ªwho knew how long that would take? Government workers weren¡¯t exactly known for their speed. Then, he looked at the line in front of him: five people. Ugh, not ideal. He glanced over at the teller. Slow. Very slow. She stared at the tickets like they held the meaning of life, like she was trying to decode some deep cosmic mystery. Could he make it to a pawn shop before the timer ran out? Maybe, if this process didn¡¯t take forever. That was the real issue¡ªnot the money, not the tickets¡ªbut time. Time was slipping away, and he could feel it ticking. Because what if the lens shut off before he could find something valuable? What if he wasted it standing in line for a payout instead of hunting for hidden treasure? The old Maluck¡ªthe one before the System¡ªwould have just stood there and waited like a normal person. But this Maluck? Nope. This Maluck saw the guy in front of him holding up the line because he was arguing over a losing ticket. ¡°Oh, come on, I know this one¡¯s a winner! The barcode must be smudged or something,¡± the guy was saying, pointing aggressively at the ticket. The teller looked unimpressed. ¡°Sir, this one says ¡®TRY AGAIN.¡¯ That means it¡¯s not a winner.¡± ¡°Yeah, but what if¡ª¡± Maluck had no patience for this. With an exaggerated sigh, he stepped up next to the guy, slapped his own stack of tickets on the counter, and flashed a $20 bill. ¡°Hey, buddy,¡± Maluck said, waving the bill like a bribe in a political thriller. ¡°How about you take this, buy yourself a new ticket, and let the line move, huh?¡± The guy blinked at him, then at the cash, then grumbled something about ¡®rigged systems¡¯ before snatching the twenty and walking off. Boom. One problem solved. The teller gave Maluck an approving nod and got to work scanning his tickets. One hour Forty minutes left on the lens. Maluck tapped his foot impatiently as the machine spat out receipt after receipt. ¡°Would you like a check or cash?¡± the teller finally asked. Maluck didn¡¯t even hesitate. ¡°Cash.¡± Because if there was one thing he¡¯d learned in the last few days, it was that cash was king. A few moments later, he walked out of the lottery center $9,180 richer¡ªand with just enough time left on his Appraiser¡¯s Lens to hit a pawn shop. ¡®Alright,¡¯ he thought, feeling pumped. ¡®Time to go treasure hunting.** *** When Maluck was about to go treasure hunting, he mulled over when he should sell his comic book. As he was debating it, his watch suddenly flashed a message. GO NOW! ¡°Ah, crap,¡± he muttered. This was going to eat up the rest of his Appraiser¡¯s Lens time, but that comic book was worth a fortune. If the watch was telling him to go now, he wasn¡¯t about to argue. He hopped into his car and drove to the biggest comic book store in the city. The place was legendary, boasting several mint-condition #1 issues as their pride and joy. As he walked inside, making his way toward the front counter, he overheard a heated conversation. A guy wearing a red Flash T-shirt was leaning over the glass display case, looking thoroughly disappointed. ¡°What do you mean you don¡¯t have XXX-Man #1?¡± the guy whined. ¡°I thought you were supposed to be the best store in the city!¡± The owner, a guy who looked like he had survived multiple convention battles and was dead inside, sighed. ¡°Well, we do have Souped-Up Man #2 and Amazing Sex Fantasies #17. Those are pretty good.¡± The Flash fanboy scoffed loudly. ¡°Pshhh. I already own better-conditioned copies of those.¡± The owner¡¯s soul visibly left his body. Maluck immediately understood why the watch told him to come now. He strode up to the counter, holding the comic casually in one hand. ¡°Couldn¡¯t help but overhear,¡± he said smoothly. ¡°You¡¯re looking for this?¡± He held up XXX-Man #1. The clerk¡¯s jaw nearly unhinged. The fanboy¡¯s eyes bulged out of his skull like a cartoon character. ¡°BAZINGA,¡± the guy gasped. The guy practically levitated toward him. ¡°D-Do you mind if I take a look? Just to check the condition?¡± ¡°Not a problem,¡± Maluck said, placing it on the counter like it was Excalibur being returned to its rightful place. The guy pulled out a pair of white gloves¡ªseriously, actual gloves¡ªand delicately started flipping through the pages like he was handling the Dead Sea Scrolls. ¡°Oh¡­ my¡­ goodness.¡± His voice trembled. ¡°The condition¡­ barely worn¡­ at least a 9.4 rating¡­¡± Maluck had no clue what a 9.4 meant, but judging by the guy¡¯s near religious awe, it was probably a good thing. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°How much do you want for it?¡± Maluck had done his research. ¡°Well, I saw a sale for this at $400,000 in July 2012.¡± The fanboy winced. ¡°That sounds about right, but that was an auction. And honestly, I think that price was inflated.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± Maluck said, tilting his head. ¡°What¡¯s your offer?¡± The guy straightened up. ¡°$100,000.¡± Maluck didn¡¯t even blink. ¡°No deal.¡± Going from $400,000 to $100,000? That was like getting offered a Charles E. Cheese coupon for a vintage Rollerex. The guy sighed dramatically. ¡°Fine. $200,000.¡± Maluck was about to shake on it when something caught his eye. As the fanboy reached into his pocket for a checkbook, a few loose coins tumbled out and rolled onto the counter. One of them glowed. Maluck¡¯s brain immediately went into overdrive. ¡®Ohhhhh.¡¯ This was big. This was worth something. This tiny, insignificant penny¡­ ¡­was somehow worth a fortune. And Maluck knew exactly how to play this. ***** His Appraiser¡¯s Lens, now running on fumes, screamed at him. ¡®Jackpot!¡¯ It wasn¡¯t some ancient gold coin or ultra-rare mint error. No. It was a penny. A completely normal-looking, boring penny. The kind of penny that you see, think ¡°ugh, not even worth bending over for,¡± and leave on the sidewalk. Except, according to his Lens, this particular boring-ass penny was worth something extraordinary. Maluck kept his cool. The collector barely even noticed the coin as he picked up the others and stuffed them back in his pocket. But Maluck casually reached out and picked up the glowing one. ¡°Huh,¡± he said, spinning it between his fingers. ¡°Didn¡¯t think people still carried pennies around.¡± The guy glanced at it. ¡°Oh, that? Pfft, nah,¡± he said, waving dismissively. ¡°Just some change from breakfast.¡± Maluck had to play this carefully. ¡°You mind throwing this in with the deal?¡± he asked as casually as possible. The guy laughed. ¡°This?¡± He flipped through his checkbook. ¡°Sure, whatever. It¡¯s a penny.¡± The store owner¡¯s eyes twitched as he watched $200,000 about to walk out of his store¡ªwithout a single cent of it landing in his pocket. He¡¯d made plenty of cutthroat deals in his time¡ªlowballing desperate collectors, flipping undervalued comics, and once convincing a guy that his near-mint Detective BatComics #27 was only worth a few hundred bucks because of a ¡°minor crease.¡± Warp16 was the king of predatory fanboy capitalism. And now, they¡¯d come into his store, used his space, and dared to make a six-figure deal without giving him a cut? Not on his watch. ¡°Hey, hey, guys!¡± the owner called out, stepping around the counter, his arms spread wide in what he thought was a friendly gesture but which actually made him look like a used car salesman who just spotted a sucker. ¡°You¡¯re in my store. If you¡¯re gonna make a deal here, how about cutting me in for, let¡¯s say¡­ 10%?¡± Maluck blinked. ¡°Are you nuts?¡± The comic book buyer, still clutching his new prize like a man who had just won the nerd lottery, gave the store owner a confused look. ¡°Seriously,¡± the store owner continued, doubling down. ¡°You used my space to conduct a transaction. 10% is pretty fair.¡± Maluck stared at him. ¡°You want twenty grand just because I happened to breathe the same air as your overpriced back issues?¡± ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m saying.¡± Maluck turned to the buyer. ¡°You wanna take this deal outside?¡± The collector nodded immediately. ¡°That sounds perfectly logical to me.¡± And just like that, the two walked out, stepping into the bright sunlight with the owner fuming behind them. The comic shop owner stood at the door, arms crossed, his eyes burning with resentment. One day¡­ one day he would get his cut. Or at least make Maluck regret not paying him tribute. For now, though? All he could do was watch as $200,000 slipped through his fingers like sand in an hourglass of lost opportunity. *** Outside, Maluck nearly burst into laughter. He could hardly believe it. The comic was gone¡ªflipped for a ridiculous price¡ªand in return, he had a $200,000 cheque and a mystery penny. Not exactly the kind of transaction he¡¯d expected to make today, but hey, the universe had a funny way of working things out. The Appraiser¡¯s Lens shut off, its glow fading just as perfectly timed as the moment itself. Maluck took a deep breath, feeling like he had just won the lottery. He looked down at the coin in his palm, inspecting it closely. It was small, old, and definitely didn¡¯t look like it could buy him a yacht or anything. But there was something about it that felt¡­ important. ¡°A penny saved¡­ is who knows how much earned,¡± he muttered to himself, giving it a dramatic look. He grinned, turning the coin over. ¡®God, I love my system.¡¯ It was like the universe had handed him the best cheat code ever, and every day it seemed to reward him with more of the unexpected¡ªand a whole lot more cash than he knew what to do with. *** Some people might have hesitated before accepting a $200,000 check from a total stranger. Not Maluck. Not because he was a trusting person. Not because this guy looked like a wholesome, upstanding citizen. And definitely not because Maluck didn¡¯t know better. No¡ªhe was confident because his Improvisation Skill: Scammer Slayer hadn¡¯t gone off. And that meant only one thing. This guy was 100% legit. *** Looking at the penny in his hand, Maluck couldn¡¯t help but think, ¡°Sucker.¡± Okay, no¡ªmaybe that was too harsh. The guy didn¡¯t know what he was doing. But still, he had just unknowingly traded a rare penny, something that could have been worth a small fortune, as an afterthought. Maluck wasn¡¯t about to feel bad about that. Opportunities like this didn¡¯t just walk up to you every day, and when they did, you grabbed them with both hands. Honestly, he was a little surprised that Scammer Slayer hadn¡¯t activated. He was practically expecting some dramatic system notification to pop up on his screen, something like: [SYSTEM ALERT] Warning: This man is about to commit check fraud. Also, he still owes Blockbuzzers $27 in late fees. Punish him! But nope. Nothing. No red flags. No flashing warning signs. Just a completely legitimate, absurdly rich geek who really, REALLY wanted that comic book. Maluck grinned to himself, shaking his head. Man, what a deal. He had to admire the guy¡¯s dedication to his fandom. He probably didn¡¯t even think twice about it. Just handed over a rare penny and a check for six-figures for a comic book without even batting an eye. And here Maluck was, strolling away with both a fat cheque and a mysterious penny that could be worth who-knows-what. In the grand scheme of things, he was the one who¡¯d just pulled off the best bargain. But hey, that¡¯s just business. ¡®Opportunities like this don¡¯t come every day, and I¡¯m not the kind of guy who¡¯s gonna let ¡®em slip away,¡¯ he thought to himself as he pocketed the penny. As he left the comic book shop, he couldn¡¯t stop smiling. All in a day¡¯s work. *** CHAPTER 41 Maluck sat in his car, turning the completely normal-looking penny over in his fingers. ¡®Why the hell was this thing worth so much?¡¯ He had seen glowing antiques, rare collectibles, and high-end appliances thanks to the Appraiser¡¯s Lens. But this? This was just a 1982 Canadian penny. Nothing fancy. No weird markings. No gold inlay. Just a boring-ass piece of copper. But if the Lens had glowed hard, that made this thing special. He pulled out his phone and started searching. And that¡¯s when he found it. The Holy Grail of Pennies In 1982, the Royal Canadian Mint was transitioning from 95% copper pennies to cheaper zinc-core ones. Most of the new batch weighed 2.5 grams instead of the older 3.56 grams. But somewhere, due to a minting error, a handful of the older copper pennies were struck with the new design. How many exist? Maybe three. Last auction price? Over $100,000. Maluck stared at the penny. ¡®No. Freaking. Way.¡¯ The collector¡ªa guy who clearly prided himself on knowing rare comics¡ªhad no idea his breakfast change was worth six figures. That¡¯s a lot of maple syrup! Maluck let out a slow, satisfied breath. ¡°A penny for your thoughts? Mine are worth a hundred grand.¡± He grinned. Tonight? He was celebrating. *** Maluck sat in his car, staring at the check for $200,000 and the small, completely unremarkable penny that was somehow worth another $100,000 sitting in his palm. He had just turned an old comic book he bought for a buck, into more money than most people made in years. This was awesome. This was also a problem. Maluck wasn¡¯t an idiot. The tax man was a greedy, relentless bastard. And he had no intention of handing over half his winnings to the government just because they asked nicely. But how the hell was he going to explain hundreds of thousands of dollars suddenly appearing in his bank account? Not reporting it? That was a one-way ticket to an audit. And knowing his catastrophic luck, his auditor wouldn¡¯t just be some regular tax agent. No, it would be the kind of guy who lived for this. Some CRA desk jockey who jacked off to tax codes and spent his evenings watching documentaries about financial fraud. Yeah. No thanks. That¡¯s when it hit him. A company. Rich people didn¡¯t pay taxes the same way normal people did. They moved their money through businesses, investments, and bullshit expenses that got written off as ¡°business costs.¡± Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Maluck grinned. He made a plan. Step One: Create a company. Something generic and official-sounding, like ¡°Maluck Holdings Inc.¡± Step Two: Start ¡°investing¡± in lottery tickets, collectibles, and casino runs¡ªbut now it was a business strategy. Step Three: Write off every ridiculous thing he could think of as a ¡°business expense.¡± Flights to Vegas? Research trips. Fancy hotel stays? Necessary for networking. Buying high-end suits? ¡°Professional image investment.¡± Hell, even dinners with Chloe? Client meetings. And best of all? Corporate tax rates were way lower than personal ones. Maluck could pay himself a small salary, keep the rest inside the business, and avoid getting taxed into oblivion. It was genius. Of course, he had no idea how to actually do this. Which meant he needed an accountant¡ªpreferably one with loose morals and a burning hatred for the government that rivaled his own. Pulling out his phone, he opened up Sam¡¯s List and, without much thought, typed out: ¡°Hiring an accountant that hates the government.¡± Not surprisingly, nothing came up. What did come up, however, were responses. A lot of them. None helpful. All mocking. ¡°Bro, just commit tax fraud like a normal person.¡± ¡°Did you try asking the CRA directly? Maybe they have a ¡®Corrupt Accountants R Us¡¯ department.¡± ¡°LMAO this guy thinks illegal accountants browse Sam¡¯s List like it¡¯s a used car dealership.¡± Okay. Maybe he needed to be a little more subtle. This time, he took his ad to a few different spots including finance forum, an encrypted chat group that he¡¯d been invited to months ago, and even LinkedOut¡ªthe slightly more professional, yet equally soul-sucking version of social networking. His new post read: ¡°Seeking an experienced tax strategist. Must be well-versed in deductions, loopholes, and creative financial solutions.¡± Much better. Less blatant. More sophisticated. Still, no response. But at least less mockery. [System Response] You¡¯re finally thinking like a winner. Keep stacking that cash. [System Task Issued] Find an accountant who can bend those tax rules so hard they squeak. System Bonus: To be determined based on how much money you save and how little the government gets. Warning: There¡¯s a fine line between tax optimization and tax evasion. Make sure your guy isn¡¯t dumb enough to get you audited¡­ or worse. Hint: The richer someone is, the less taxes they pay. Find out how they do it. Maluck smirked. Hell yes. Time to get rich and stay rich. *** Maluck looked down at the check in his hand, then immediately pulled up his stat sheet. Bad Luck Points: 42. ¡°Ugh,¡± he groaned. ¡°That¡¯s way too high.¡± Forty-two BP wasn¡¯t just flirting with disaster¡ªit was straight-up making bedroom eyes at catastrophe. He could practically feel the universe sharpening a banana peel and setting up a series of unfortunate events just for him. Nope. Not today. He immediately activated the Fortune Tuner, ignoring the ka-ching of 25 Luck Points vanishing from his total. His BP dropped from 42 to 0, and the were converted into 21 fresh, delicious Luck Points. Was it a perfect exchange rate? No. Did he lose out on this deal? Yes. Was it way better than getting hit by a runaway ice cream truck or spontaneously having tinder from a smoker¡¯s cigarette set his cheque on fire? Absolutely. With that out of the way, he took another look at his check. $200,000, crisp and clean. A beautiful sight. Now all that was left was figuring out how to keep as much of it out of the government¡¯s greedy little hands. Which meant¡­ It was time to complete that System Task: Find an accountant that will bend those tax rules so hard they squeak. *** Maluck leaned back, cracked his knuckles, and burned all of his remaining LP on the Probability Charm. What did he want? The best accountant. Not just someone good at their job¡ªhe needed a financial sorcerer, someone who could make $200,000 of questionable income disappear faster than his dignity on an ice patch. The charm activated, working its magic somewhere out in the universe. Meanwhile, across Calgary¡­ Soi Sommer stormed out of the Canada Revenue Agency office, still gripping his box of belongings like it had personally insulted his mother. He wasn¡¯t fired for incompetence¡ªoh no, he was the best damn accountant in that office. His crime? Pissing off his boss. More specifically, his boss¡¯s girlfriend had made a pass at him during a company dinner. Soi, being a man of integrity (and also not wanting to possibly get herpes, she had some very sketchy cold sores), had politely turned her down. She, being a vengeful harpy in designer heels, had spun the story differently. This plus the fact that the same boss hated the fact that Soi was actually better at his job than he was had resulted in Soi being suddenly ¡°habitually late¡± and was given a choice: take a demotion to junior tax auditor or resign. Yeah. Like hell he was gonna take that. Soi refused to go down quietly. He was a numbers god, a tax wizard, a financial war criminal in the making. He just needed a new job. Pulling out his phone, he started scrolling through SkewSearch, looking at job postings. Most of them were boring, legal, and completely underwhelming. Then, one listing stood out: ¡°Seeking an experienced tax strategist. Must be well-versed in deductions, loopholes, and creative financial solutions.¡± Soi blinked. That was oddly specific. He clicked on it. The listing was¡­ short. Almost suspiciously so. No company name. No credentials required. Just a phone number. This was definitely code for ¡°I hate taxes & the government.¡± ¡®Hey, that¡¯s me perfectly,¡¯ Soi thought. Without a second thought, he dialed the number. *** CHAPTER 42 Maluck picked up the phone the moment it rang, because who else could it be? He¡¯d just dumped all his LP into his Probability Charm, and he wasn¡¯t about to believe in coincidences. ¡°Are you the one looking for an accountant?¡± the voice asked. ¡°Yep.¡±, he said casually. ¡°Did you want to meet up?¡± The guy on the other end hesitated, like Maluck had just asked if he wanted to meet in a back alley. He clearly hadn¡¯t expected instant results¡ªmaybe a phone interview, maybe a few emails, maybe a real hiring process. ¡°Uh¡­ right now?¡± ¡°Yeah, why not?¡± Maluck said. That $200,000 check wasn¡¯t going to hide itself, and the last thing he needed was the government deciding to take a ¡°patriotic donation¡± out of his earnings. Soi¡ªbecause apparently, that was his name¡ªgave him the coffee shop address. Maluck wasted no time driving over. His car, once again, did not make a great first impression. Soi glanced up from his phone as Maluck pulled into the lot. His expression was pure skepticism. Like he¡¯d just realized this potential client might pay him in ¡°thoughts and prayers.¡± ¡®Did I just get catfished by a broke guy?¡¯ Maluck walking into the coffee shop could practically hear the mental math happening. This guy was an accountant, after all. The way he was eyeing Maluck¡¯s trusty-but-rusty ride, probably calculating whether this was worth his time, was obviously disdainful. Maluck had spotted him immediately¡ªpale, short-sleeved button-up, glasses slightly askew, and yes, that was definitely a box of personal belongings sitting on the table. ¡®Did I just roll a nat 20 on hiring?¡¯ Maluck thought. He slid into the seat across from him, grinning. ¡°So¡­ looks like you just got fired.¡± Soi blinked. ¡°Wha¡ªhow did you¡ª?¡± He glanced at his box of personal belongings like he¡¯d forgotten it was there. ¡°¡­Oh.¡± Maluck smirked. ¡®Yeah. That¡¯s about as perfect as it gets.¡¯ *** ¡°So, Soi,¡± Maluck said, leaning back in his chair, ¡°I¡¯m looking for an accountant, and you¡¯re looking for a job. Seems like fate, huh?¡± Soi, still a little wary, adjusted his glasses. ¡°That depends. What exactly are you looking for?¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°Someone who can make sure the government gets as little of my money as legally possible.¡± Soi gave him a long, calculating look. Then, with the air of a man deciding whether or not to sell his soul, he sighed. ¡°Alright. My qualifications¡ªI¡¯ve worked for the CRA for the last ten years. Started as a Junior Tax Auditor, moved up the ranks, learned all the tricks, and saw firsthand how the system really worked. Then, well¡­¡± He gestured vaguely to the box of fired employee sadness sitting next to him. Maluck nodded knowingly. ¡°Let me guess¡ªyou did your job too well, and a jealous boss and office politics got in the way?¡± Soi blinked, then let out a dry laugh. ¡°Damn. Nailed it. You sure you¡¯re not psychic?¡± Maluck smirked. ¡°Nah, just seen enough competent people get screwed over to recognize the pattern.¡± Soi narrowed his eyes. ¡°Uh-huh. Anyway, yes. I was given a choice¡ªeither accept a demotion that would effectively kill my career or quit. So now, here I am, drinking overpriced coffee and wondering if my life is about to spiral into a financial abyss.¡± Maluck laughed. ¡°Perfect! I love hiring people with a grudge against the system.¡± Soi gave him a very skeptical look. ¡°Right. And what exactly do you do that requires an accountant with loose moral fiber?¡± Maluck tapped the $200,000 check sitting in his pocket and smirked. ¡°Let¡¯s just say I come into money in¡­interesting ways.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not drugs or money laundering is it? I¡¯m not touching that.¡± This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Nope. Way more innocent. Gambling, pawn shops and lottery tickets.¡± Soi raised an eyebrow. ¡°And you want to make sure none of it ends up in the government¡¯s hands?¡± Maluck snapped his fingers. ¡°Bingo.¡± Soi sighed, rubbing his temples. ¡°Okay. First things first¡ªyou need a corporation. You can¡¯t just deposit random piles of money and expect the CRA to not come sniffing around.¡± Maluck nodded. ¡°Sounds good. How soon can you set one up?¡± Soi blinked. ¡°You¡¯re really serious about this, huh?¡± ¡°Dude, my entire financial strategy right now is winning scratch tickets and gambling. Of course I need someone to keep me from getting audited into oblivion.¡± Soi leaned back, considering. Then he extended his hand. ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll take the job. But I expect to be paid well.¡± ¡°How much, is well?¡± ¡°WelI I was making $110,000 a year,¡± Soi said, eyeing Maluck warily. ¡°So I hate to ask, but¡­ can you even afford me?¡± He glanced out the window at the absolute disgrace of a car Maluck had parked outside. Maluck smirked. ¡°Here, first deposit for my company.¡± He casually slid the $200,000 check across the table. Soi picked it up and read the memo line: Comic Book Sale. He blinked. Then blinked again. ¡°Is this real?¡± Maluck took a sip of his coffee. ¡°Yeah, just don¡¯t spill anything on it. It¡¯s definitely worth more than the car you keep judging me for.¡± Soi looked at the very real $200,000 check in his hands, labeled comic book sale, and then back at Maluck, who was dressed like a guy who only recently upgraded from eating instant noodles for every meal. Soi carefully gave the check back, as if it might spontaneously combust. ¡°You do realize that most people starting a business don¡¯t just hand out six-figure salaries like candy, right?¡± ¡°Yeah, well, I¡¯m not most people,¡± Maluck said, grinning. ¡°So why don¡¯t we say $150,000 a year, and you can start¡­ right now.¡± Soi let out a long, slow exhale. ¡°Jesus. What exactly is this job?¡± ¡°Simple,¡± Maluck said, waving a hand. ¡°I need you to find every loophole, every deduction, and every questionably legal strategy possible to make sure the government never sees a single cent of my money.¡± Soi stared at him for a beat. Then, for the first time all day, a slow grin spread across his face. ¡°You have no idea how much I¡¯m going to enjoy this,¡± he said, shaking Maluck¡¯s hand. Maluck shook his hand. ¡°Deal. Welcome aboard, Soi. Now, let¡¯s go make some questionable financial decisions.¡± *** Maluck leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. ¡°Alright, Soi, walk me through this. What exactly do I need to do here? And more importantly¡­¡± he grinned, ¡°what do you need to do so that I don¡¯t have to do anything?¡± Soi chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°Man, you really are trying to take the hands-off approach, huh?¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Maluck said. ¡°I¡¯m a firm believer in delegation. You know, hiring experts to handle things I have zero interest in.¡± Soi smirked and pulled out his notebook, flipping to a clean page. ¡°Alright, let me break this down into a quick checklist for you. Just the basics, so you don¡¯t accidentally commit tax fraud before I even file your first report.¡± He started scribbling notes while Maluck sipped his coffee, already feeling way better about his financial future¡ªor at least, his ability to avoid troubles altogether. Soi tapped his pen against the notebook. ¡°Alright, Maluck, here¡¯s what you need to do: Absolutely nothing.¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°Now that¡¯s what I like to hear. Best hire I¡¯ve ever made.¡± Soi smirked. ¡°Hold your horses. Technically, you still need to sign some paperwork, set up a business account, and, you know, legally exist as a company. But after that? Yeah, I¡¯ll handle everything.¡± Maluck exhaled dramatically, leaning back in his chair. ¡°Ugh, paperwork? You mean, like¡­ actual forms and stuff?¡± ¡°Yes, actual forms,¡± Soi said, rolling his eyes. ¡°But don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll fill them out. You just have to sign where I tell you to.¡± Maluck clutched his chest in mock relief. ¡°So I don¡¯t have to read anything?¡± ¡°Not unless you want to.¡± ¡°Why would I ever want to?¡± Soi chuckled and shook his head. ¡°Alright, here¡¯s the plan. First, we¡¯re setting up a business entity¡ªprobably a corporation or an LLC¡ªso you can run all your income through it. Casinos, scratch-offs, sketchy parking lot baseball trades¡ªeverything gets funneled through the company.¡± Maluck nodded. ¡°Okay, and what does that do for me specifically? Because this all sounds dangerously close to effort.¡± ¡°It means you aren¡¯t personally paying taxes on any of this,¡± Soi explained. ¡°Instead of ¡®Maluck the Guy Who Wins Too Much Money,¡¯ the government only sees ¡®Maluck Industries, LLC.¡¯ And companies? They get all the loopholes.¡± Maluck¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°I love loopholes. Loopholes are my second favorite hole.¡± Soi smirked. ¡°I refuse to ask you what your first favourite is. Now, the company is going to pay for everything¡ªhotels, travel, meals, entertainment. You¡¯re basically a business expense now.¡± Maluck gasped. ¡°So you¡¯re telling me¡­ I can write off fancy sushi?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°And expensive hotels?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°And gambling??¡± ¡°Technically¡­ yes. If we¡¯re smart about it.¡± Maluck slammed his hands on the table. ¡°Soi, my man, this is incredible. I was born to run a fake company.¡± Soi groaned. ¡°It¡¯s not fake, it¡¯s just strategically structured.¡± ¡°Right, right, totally legal and above board,¡± Maluck said, waving a hand. ¡°Now, what do you need from me so we can make this happen?¡± Soi flipped his notebook closed. ¡°Two things. One, a business name.¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°Easy. Lucky Bastard Enterprises.¡± Soi paused. ¡°¡­Okay, first, that¡¯s an HR nightmare. Second, do you really want ¡®Bastard¡¯ in your company name when you¡¯re trying to look legitimate?¡± Maluck frowned. ¡°Fine. Lucky Star Ventures. Sounds fancy, right?¡± Soi nodded. ¡°That¡¯ll work. Now, the second thing¡ªfunding. We need to start the business account with some capital.¡± Maluck pulled out the $200,000 check again and slid it across the table. ¡°This enough?¡± Soi blinked. Then blinked again. ¡°You really got this from selling a comic book?¡± Maluck shrugged. ¡°Not just any comic book! A majestic tale of mutant liberation and freedom.¡± Soi exhaled. ¡°Yeah, okay. We¡¯re definitely getting this set up today. Before you do something stupid like lose it at a blackjack table.¡± Maluck scoffed. ¡°Pfft, please. I¡¯d at least double it before losing it all.¡± Soi buried his face in his hands. ¡°This is going to be the weirdest job I¡¯ve ever had.¡± Maluck clapped him on the shoulder. ¡°And also the most profitable. Now, let¡¯s go start my totally legitimate empire.¡± *** CHAPTER 43 Maluck taking a sip of his coffee said, stretching lazily. ¡°So, just to confirm¡ªyou said I don¡¯t have to do anything, right? Like, nothing at all?¡± Soi narrowed his eyes. ¡°Technically, you need to sign a few things¡ª¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah, eventually.¡± Maluck waved a hand dismissively. ¡°But right now, if I just hand over this check, I can leave and go about my very important business?¡± Soi stared at him. ¡°You mean gambling?¡± Maluck gasped dramatically. ¡°I am offended. I run a highly diversified luck-based investment portfolio.¡± Soi exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°Right. And let me guess, the strategy is ¡®bet until I win¡¯?¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± Maluck said, nodding. ¡°See? You get me.¡± Soi crossed his arms. ¡°So you¡¯re just gonna hand me, a total stranger you just met, a $200,000 check and walk away? Just like that?¡± ¡°Yup.¡± ¡°You¡¯re seriously not worried I might take it and disappear?¡± Maluck grinned, sliding the check across the table. ¡°Not even a little.¡± Soi raised an eyebrow. ¡°You just met me in a coffee shop.¡± ¡°True.¡± ¡°You barely know my last name.¡± ¡°Also true.¡± ¡°And I only have you a very quick summary of my background. And you haven¡¯t done any reference checks.¡± Maluck shrugged. ¡°Yeah, but I¡¯m a great judge of character.¡± Soi gave him a flat look. ¡°Based on what?¡± Maluck smirked. Secretly, he wasn¡¯t trusting at all. But his Scammer Slayer improvisation skill hadn¡¯t gone off once, which meant this guy was legit. That skill was basically his human lie detector, and so far, Soi had passed every test. Besides, if Soi did try to screw him over? Maluck would find a way to make his life a living nightmare filled with angry geese, untied shoelaces and suspiciously coincidental chaos. Instead of saying all that, Maluck simply leaned back and grinned. ¡°Call it a hunch.¡± Soi shook his head in disbelief. ¡°You¡¯re either the dumbest person I¡¯ve ever met or the most trusting.¡± ¡°Why not both?¡± Maluck said, standing up. ¡°Anyway, enjoy your new job, buddy. Give me a call when I need to scribble my name on something.¡± Soi watched Maluck casually walk away, still stunned at how quickly this guy was willing to dump a $200,000 check in his lap and call it a day. As Maluck reached the door, Soi finally snapped out of it and called after him. ¡°Maluck! If you win big, let me know! I¡¯ll need that info¡­ oh, wait¡­ only fifty grand¡ªonly tell me when you win big!¡± He didn¡¯t want Maluck calling him every five minutes. ¡°And if you win too big, we¡¯re gonna have to start buying ¡®art pieces¡¯ and ¡®business assets¡¯ to keep the government from sticking their greedy little fingers where they don¡¯t belong!¡± Maluck waved a hand over his shoulder like he¡¯d just been given the most casual life advice ever. ¡°Got it! Win big, buy art, dodge taxes. Love this plan!¡± Soi shook his head, rubbing his temples. ¡°Jesus Christ, this guy¡¯s either gonna make me rich or send me to prison¡­¡± *** Maluck decided to drive back to his hotel. All of his¡­ ¡°work¡± had been done. He had sold the comic, started a business, and now it was time to relax. Maybe grab some lunch. Turn in his lottery winnings. Yeah, lunch sounded good. First, though, he decided to check in on Chloe. ¡°Hey, Chloe, how¡¯s the training going?¡± he asked as he walked into the gym. She hissed at him like an angry cat. ¡°This is bullshit. When I signed up for the two days, I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d be stuck in the gym for the whole damn day.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not the whole day,¡± Maluck said, holding up his hands defensively. ¡°It¡¯s only been a couple hours.¡± ¡°Grrrr,¡± Chloe said, squinting at him with pure betrayal. ¡°Anyways¡­ why don¡¯t you grab a shower? Then we¡¯ll finish up,¡± he offered. ¡°That¡¯s better,¡± Chloe muttered, wiping sweat from her forehead. ¡°And I¡¯ll buy you lunch.¡± ¡°That¡¯s even better.¡± After her shower, they went down to the hotel restaurant and had an incredibly good meal. Today, they both got grilled salmon with seared scallops. The salmon was perfectly cooked, its skin crispy and golden brown, while the flesh inside was tender and flaky, glistening with a delicate sheen. A light glaze of lemon-butter sauce added just the right amount of richness, perfectly complementing the natural flavor of the fish. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. The seared scallops sat next to it, each one caramelized to a soft, golden-brown perfection. The edges had just the right amount of crispness, while the inside remained plump and buttery. They practically melted in the mouth, bursting with a sweet, briny flavor that seemed to perfectly balance the richness of the salmon. A sprinkle of fresh herbs and a few sprigs of thyme sat atop the dish, their green vibrance offering a light, aromatic contrast to the warm, savory seafood. On the side, a small serving of creamy mashed potatoes added a soft, comforting base to the dish, and a delicate drizzle of roasted garlic aioli tied it all together. It was the kind of dish that felt indulgent but light, the flavors dancing across the tongue with every bite. A meal that wasn¡¯t just satisfying¡ªit was an experience. It was fine dining at its best. And the best part? It was rich in healthy fats, fish oil, and protein¡ªeverything they needed to fuel their workouts. The salmon was packed with omega-3 fatty acids, those heart-healthy fats that not only helped to keep their joints lubricated for heavy lifting but also improved overall brain function. The seared scallops added another layer of lean protein, perfect for muscle recovery after a tough session in the gym. Together, the dish was a powerhouse of nutrition¡ªlight yet filling, and full of the good stuff that would support their intense workouts. As they dug in, Maluck couldn¡¯t help but appreciate how balanced the meal was¡ªnothing weighed them down, but it gave them the energy to keep pushing through their routines. The fish oil from the salmon would work wonders on their muscles, reducing inflammation from all the squats and deadlifts. Plus, the protein would aid in muscle repair and growth, helping them get stronger with each gym session. It was the kind of food that made them feel like they were doing something right¡ªfueling their bodies with wholesome, nutrient-dense ingredients that would keep them going strong, both in the gym and in life. ¡°This is what I¡¯m talking about,¡± said Chloe, taking a bite of her perfectly seared salmon. ¡°I thought you¡¯d force me to be on a diet of plain chicken breast and hard-boiled eggs.¡± ¡°Nah,¡± said Maluck, shaking his head. ¡°Getting in shape is 80% diet, so what fun would it be to be rolling in casino wins if we had to change our diet to horribly bland chicken? You think I¡¯m gonna enjoy my 10k while chewing on a flavorless hunk of chicken?¡± Chloe laughed. ¡°Exactly! What¡¯s the point of winning big if I have to survive on bland food? I didn¡¯t sign up for a lifetime of chewing through cardboard.¡± Maluck grinned, raising his glass. ¡°Exactly. You¡¯re not a hamster. You deserve the good stuff. I mean, we can¡¯t let those gains go to waste with bland chicken and egg meals, right?¡± Chloe smirked. ¡°That¡¯s right. I¡¯d rather skip the ¡®wellness¡¯ if it means giving up on things that taste good.¡± Maluck chuckled. ¡°Exactly. Gotta balance the wins, the workouts, and the meals. No point in getting fit if you¡¯re miserable the whole time, right?¡± Chloe raised her glass. ¡°To good food, good fortune, and not having to live on dry chicken and despair.¡± ¡°Cheers to that,¡± Maluck said with a laugh, and they clinked water glasses. After her meal, Chloe sighed contentedly. ¡°Okay. I can¡¯t hate you for abandoning me in the gym now.¡± ¡°Good to know,¡± Maluck said, popping a scallop into his mouth. ¡°So¡­ we¡¯ve got half a day left. You¡¯ve worked so hard training. What do you want to do?¡± Chloe twirled her fork between her fingers and gave him a slow, considering look. Then, with a small smirk, she said, ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ you wanna head back up to the hotel room?¡± She gave him a very deliberate wink. Maluck grinned. ¡°I could definitely do some cardio.¡± And with that, they headed upstairs. [System Task] Make sure Chloe makes an O-face three times. System Bonus: +0.02 Endurance. Maluck read the task and nearly choked on air. ¡®Wait¡­ seriously? I get rewarded for this?¡¯ He wasn¡¯t sure whether to be impressed or slightly concerned about the System¡¯s priorities. But hey, free stats were free stats. And endurance? That was definitely a useful upgrade. Maluck smirked to himself. ¡°I can definitely get behind this,¡± he muttered, grinning like a wolf. Chloe, already heading toward the elevator, glanced at him. ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± ¡°Oh, nothing,¡± Maluck said, waving her off. ¡°Just feeling extra motivated.¡± Chloe raised an eyebrow. ¡°Riiiight. Whatever, Lucky McLuckface.¡± As they stepped into the elevator, Maluck cracked his knuckles and mentally prepared himself. ¡®Three times, huh? Well, he wasn¡¯t about to let the system down.¡¯ Challenge accepted. *** Maluck lay back in bed, staring at the ceiling with the biggest self-satisfied grin. He felt fantastic. Like he¡¯d just leveled up in the most fun way possible. Because he had. [System Task: COMPLETED] Great job tiger! Bonus: Statistical dominance over an entire continent¡¯s worth of dudes, Endurance stat in reserve. Plus 3 LP for enthusiasm. His Endurance stat had ticked up by +0.02, and while that might not sound like much, he knew exactly what it meant now. That wasn¡¯t just a number. That was 80 million men who were now officially worse than him at¡­ well, this. ¡®Damn,¡¯ he thought, barely holding back a laugh. ¡®I just outperformed the entire male populations of France and Australia combined.¡¯ He turned his head slightly. Chloe was still asleep, hair a mess, her arm draped lazily over her face. She looked peaceful. Exhausted. Mission accomplished. Maluck mentally fist-pumped. He stretched out, feeling elite. And chuckled. ¡®Some guys wake up and check the stock market. Others check their crypto wallets. Me? I check my Endurance stats.¡¯ The best part? Chloe had no clue that their sex had just made him physically stronger. And luckier! He had to fight the urge to laugh too loud. If she caught him she¡¯d think he was being weird. ¡®No wonder RPG protagonists always end up with harems. If they¡¯re getting passive stat boosts like this, it¡¯s basically an arms race. Except it¡¯s not arms we are comparing.¡¯ He exhaled, thoroughly pleased with himself. Then, out of pure curiosity, he checked the hard numbers. Before, his Endurance had been 1.05. With the new boost, it was now sitting at 1.07. When his Endurance stat finally jumped from 1.05 to 1.07, it didn¡¯t seem like much of a change. Just 0.02. Not a huge deal, right? But here¡¯s where it got interesting: the System didn¡¯t work like normal stats or percentiles. It wasn¡¯t about getting a flat increase in endurance¡ªit was about how your endurance stacked up against everyone else. Maluck had gone from being better than about half the population with his 1.05 to suddenly outlasting 400 million men with 1.07. Why? Well, a small change like that pushed him from the average range, where most people¡¯s stats hovered, straight into the top 1%. It¡¯s kind of like this: in a world full of people clustered at the middle of the pack, a small improvement can shoot you up the ranks. Maluck¡¯s 0.02 increase wasn¡¯t just a minor bump¡ªit launched him ahead of millions, maybe even billions. He wasn¡¯t just a bit better than before. No, he had officially ascended into the top 1% of global male endurance, all because of that little push from the System. A 0.02 increase was like a tiny snowball at the top of a hill, picking up momentum until it could crush everything below. Maluck was now top-tier, and it hadn¡¯t even taken him long to get there. It was wild how a small boost could have such an impact on a global scale, but hey, that¡¯s the System for you. Every little increase mattered, and apparently, this one mattered a lot. Which meant, on a global scale, he had already surpassed 400 million men in terms of raw stamina. Four. Hundred. Million. Maluck had literally ascended into the top 1% of male durability worldwide¡ªand all it took was one incredible session in bed. ¡®Jesus. If I do this a few more times, I might unlock Super Sayanballz.¡¯ He snorted at his own thoughts and stretched out again. ¡®You know what? I should celebrate. Steak and eggs. That feels right. A true victory meal.¡¯ Yeah. He was built different now. CHAPTER 44 Chloe eventually stirred, stretching lazily before cracking one eye open to look at Maluck, who was lying comfortably beside her. ¡°I am not moving. I am not getting out of this bed. Your job is to get me food,¡± she declared, voice still heavy with sleep. Maluck smirked, already reaching for the room service menu. ¡°Yes, your highness,¡± he said with a mock bow. His Intelligence stat was 1.16, so he wasn¡¯t an idiot. He knew exactly what she¡¯d want after a night like that¡ªsteak, eggs, a fresh blueberry shake, and coffee so strong it could reanimate the dead. Life with room service? 100% awesome. Life with a hot goth girl in bed beside him and room service? 110%. As he placed the order, he turned back to her. ¡°So, what do you want to do later?¡± Chloe barely cracked open her other eye. ¡°Did you not hear me? I am not moving. I live here now. This is my home.¡± Maluck laughed. ¡°Okay, today we lounge in bed and watch TV. But what about tomorrow? Technically, you only took a few days off work¡ª¡± She groaned dramatically. ¡°Why are you such a buzzkill? Ignoring you now.¡± Maluck placed the order and they both just lay in bed chit chatting. Before Maluck too much time had passed, there was a KNOCK, KNOCK at the door¡ªthe beautiful, magnificent sound of food salvation arriving. Maluck practically sprung from bed to retrieve it, wheeling in the cart like a medieval squire presenting an offering to his liege. ¡°Here you go, Queen of Darkness. I, your loyal vassal, have procured the finest victuals for you.¡± Chloe sat up, hair still an absolute mess, but eyes lighting up as she saw the spread. ¡°Foooodddd!¡± She grabbed her coffee first, taking a sip like it was the elixir of life. Maluck watched with satisfaction as she took her first bite of steak, eyes fluttering shut in appreciation. ¡®Yeah. This was the life.¡¯ *** Chloe, after her rejuvenating meal and an additional hour and a half of lying in bed like a contented cat, finally sighed and stretched. ¡°Fine. You¡¯re right. I should figure out what I¡¯m going to do tomorrow.¡± Maluck glanced over at her, smirking. ¡°Oh? And? What¡¯s the plan?¡± She flopped dramatically onto her side, burying half her face in the pillow. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I really don¡¯t want to go back to working at the pawn shop.¡± Maluck nodded, feigning deep thought. ¡°Then why don¡¯t you work for me?¡± Chloe blinked. ¡°What? By lying in this bed? I mean, I¡¯m not really built to be a sugar baby. Or, because I¡¯m a goth, I guess I¡¯d be a sugar batty.¡± Maluck chuckled at that. ¡°No. You¡¯d be my first official employee of Lucky Star Ventures.¡± She propped herself up on one elbow. ¡°What the hell is Lucky Star Ventures?¡± ¡°Well, remember that comic book I told you I bought?¡± ¡°Yeah, you got it at Abdul¡¯s next door, right?¡± ¡°Yep, that¡¯s the place.¡± Chloe shrugged. ¡°I mean, I know Abdul sells those comics for, like, a buck each. You said it was worth something, so what¡¯d you get? Ten grand? That¡¯d be awesome, considering he probably buys them in bulk for, like, twenty bucks a carton.¡± Maluck scratched his cheek, trying to hold back a grin. ¡°Uh¡­ not exactly.¡± She gave him a suspicious look. ¡°Okay¡­ how much then?¡± He hesitated just long enough to build suspense. ¡°Two hundred thousand.¡± Chloe¡¯s jaw dropped. Her arms shot up dramatically, nearly launching her coffee and juice across the room. ¡°WHAT?!¡± ¡°Whoa, whoa!¡± Maluck said, laughing as he rescued her nearly doomed drink. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND?!¡± She still wasn¡¯t processing it. ¡°For a comic book??¡± ¡°Yep.¡± He grinned, leaning back with all the smug satisfaction of a cat who just stole an entire roast chicken. She stared at him like he¡¯d just casually admitted to robbing a bank. ¡°SERIOUSLY?!¡± ¡°YEAH,¡± Maluck said, ¡°And because it was such a large sale, I had to set up a business. Otherwise, the government would have taken a big ol¡¯ chunk, and nobody wants that.¡± Chloe crossed her arms. ¡°Yeah, fuck taxes.¡± ¡°Exactly. So I hired an accountant, and we¡¯re officially setting up Lucky Star Ventures.¡± Chloe blinked again, looking equal parts impressed and bewildered. ¡°¡­And you did all of this while I was hanging off a bar like a sad squirrel in the gym?¡± ¡°Yep!¡± Maluck said proudly, puffing out his chest. ¡°See? I wasn¡¯t slacking.¡± Chloe grinned and leaned over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. ¡°Well, you did good.¡± Maluck mentally celebrated. ¡°Alright, so what would I even do as your ¡®employee?¡¯¡± He shrugged. ¡°No clue. But there¡¯s definitely a spot on my team for the world¡¯s best thief¡­and worlds best¡­.¡± Chloe narrowed her eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t. You. Finish. That. Sentence.¡± Maluck raised his hands in mock surrender. ¡°Okay, okay. Look, don¡¯t think of it as employer-employee. Sure, it¡¯s my business, but I was thinking more of a percentage deal. You get 25% of whatever we make, as long as you¡¯re willing to work.¡± Chloe raised an eyebrow. ¡°And what does this ¡®work¡¯ involve? Stealing things?¡± Maluck shook his head. ¡°Honestly? I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t want you breaking into houses or doing any of that kind of shit. But¡­ who knows what we¡¯re gonna end up doing?¡± She smirked. ¡°You mean like yesterday?¡± ¡°Exactly!¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°You saw what our day was like. It was insane. And fun. And profitable. Now imagine that¡­ every day.¡± Chloe leaned back, tapping her chin. ¡°¡­That would be pretty fucking awesome.¡± *** ¡°Hey, can I borrow your car?¡± Chloe asked, grabbing her jacket off the chair. Maluck, who was lounging on the bed, glanced up. ¡°Sure. What are you doing?¡± ¡°Well, since we were just talking about it, I figured I might as well go to the pawn shop, quit, and get my back wages. It¡¯s about a thousand bucks, too.¡± She zipped up her jacket and slipped her boots on, looking way too determined for what should¡¯ve been a simple errand. Maluck tossed her the keys. ¡°Cool. Go ahead.¡± She caught them and headed out, slamming the door behind her. The drive to the pawn shop was routine, but the moment she stepped inside, she knew something was off. The store felt emptier than usual¡ªa bunch of the display cases were missing their usual clutter, and the owner wasn¡¯t behind the counter. She looked around, spotting the shop¡¯s only other employee, a greasy-haired guy named Travis, wiping down an old stereo. ¡°Where¡¯s the boss?¡± she asked, crossing her arms. Travis snorted. ¡°Coin exhibition. Took off this morning with a case full of old junk.¡± ¡®Of course.¡¯ She should¡¯ve known the bastard would be out trying to make a quick buck. ¡°Figures,¡± she muttered. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll have to go track him down.¡± A quick search on her phone pulled up the location¡ªsome convention center across town. If Ron thought not being in the shop for the day would help him dodge this conversation, he had another thing coming. The exhibition was a mess of booths, collectors, and middle-aged men arguing over coins like it was a stock exchange. Chloe wove her way through the crowd, scanning the booths until she spotted him¡ªRon, her smug, weaselly boss, chatting up some potential buyer with a greasy smile. She marched straight up to him, cutting right into whatever sales pitch he was delivering. ¡°Hey, Ron. We need to talk.¡± His face twitched when he saw her, but he quickly plastered on a fake, oily grin. ¡°Chloe! What a surprise. What brings you here?¡± ¡°I¡¯m quitting for real,¡± she said flatly, crossing her arms. ¡°And I¡¯m here for my last paycheck.¡± Ron barely hesitated. ¡°Oh, uh¡­ yeah, about that.¡± He scratched the back of his head, suddenly looking very interested in a display case full of antique pennies. ¡°You actually violated company policy, so I can¡¯t pay you.¡± Chloe blinked. ¡°What?¡± ¡°You broke the rules. Pretty serious stuff,¡± he said, waving a dismissive hand. ¡°Can¡¯t reward bad behavior.¡± Her hands clenched into fists. ¡°What ¡®rule¡¯ did I break, exactly?¡± Ron made a show of looking thoughtful, as if he were digging deep into the imaginary handbook he¡¯d just made up. ¡°Oh, you know¡­ the one about, uh¡­ not abandoning your shift without notice?¡± Chloe¡¯s eye twitched. ¡°I gave two weeks¡¯ notice a month ago. You¡¯ve been dodging me for the past three weeks.¡± Ron shrugged, all faux innocence. ¡°Yeah, well, you should¡¯ve given me a reminder.¡± Oh, she was going to kill him. Right here. In front of all these nerds trading dimes. She took a deep breath, physically forcing herself not to commit a felony. ¡°Ron. Just give me my money.¡± He laughed. ¡°Oh, c¡¯mon, Chloe. You know how this works. It¡¯s not worth the fight. You¡¯d have to go through small claims court, pay fees, and even if you win, I¡¯d just say I don¡¯t have the money.¡± He leaned in with a smirk. ¡°What are you gonna do? Get a lawyer? You can¡¯t afford that.¡± Her fingers twitched. She could take him in a fight. She could absolutely take him in a fight. But, unfortunately, that wouldn¡¯t get her a thousand bucks. Grinding her teeth, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the exhibition before she did something regrettable. Still fuming, she drove back to the hotel, gripping the steering wheel like she was imagining it was Ron¡¯s neck. Maluck was about to greet her when she walked in, but one look at her face told him everything he needed to know. ¡°Nope,¡± she said, cutting him off before he could ask. ¡°Just¡­ nope.¡± She threw his keys onto the table, flopped onto the bed, and groaned into the pillow. Maluck folded his arms. ¡°He stiffed you, huh?¡± She lifted her head just enough to glare at him. ¡°What was your first clue?¡± Maluck cracked his knuckles. ¡°Oh, hell no.¡± Right on cue, his System flashed a task. [System Task]: Justice delayed is justice denied. Make sure this bastard learns the value of fair pay. Bonus based on severity. What Maluck didn¡¯t know was the task had come straight from Justice herself, one of the toughest and most no-nonsense of the Virtues. She wasn¡¯t the type to mess around when it came to fairness, and if anyone was taking advantage of people, they were about to learn her lesson the hard way. Justice had watched over the situation and knew exactly how to deal with it. While Wrath could get fired up and angry, Justice¡¯s approach was more methodical, and exacting. Her task wasn¡¯t just about getting the money back¡ªit was about making sure that anyone who thought they could take advantage of others would remember the lesson. You don¡¯t mess with fairness. You don¡¯t mess with the concept of what¡¯s right. And Maluck, whether he realized it or not, was the instrument for that lesson. Maluck grinned. ¡°He¡¯s still at the coin show, right?¡± Chloe sat up. ¡°Yeah, why?¡± ¡°Then I¡¯m going.¡± She hesitated. ¡°Are you sure? Ron knows some shady people. Like, dudes who sell things with the serial numbers scratched off.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll get your money.¡± *** CHAPTER 45 Jumping into his car, he was now the embodiment of Justice¡ªa literal luck-based hitman, with a Task. Maluck approached the coin exhibition booth, where Ron was animatedly discussing his wares with a burly biker, clad in worn leather and sporting a tangled beard¡ªa man who seemed more at home in a garage than amidst coin collectors. The biker¡¯s passion for coins was evident, though his methods of acquisition were questionable, often involving nocturnal ¡®collections¡¯ from unsuspecting owners. Spotting Maluck, Ron plastered on a customer-service smile. ¡°What can I do for you, friend?¡± Maluck¡¯s expression remained stony. ¡°I¡¯m not your friend. I¡¯m here to collect Chloe¡¯s back wages.¡± Ron scoffed, his demeanor shifting. ¡°I already told that bitch she¡¯s not getting anything.¡± The biker leaned in, his presence imposing. ¡°Ron, is this guy causing you problems?¡± Maluck met his gaze unflinchingly. ¡°Hey, Bigfoot, this is none of your business.¡± The biker¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Oh, it wasn¡¯t before, but now it is.¡± Maluck smirked. ¡°What are you going to do? Punch me in front of this exhibition booth?¡± Ron quickly intervened, placing a hand on the biker¡¯s arm. ¡°Yeah, don¡¯t do that. We¡¯ve still got two days left in this show, and I don¡¯t want to lose my booth.¡± Maluck glanced around at the sparse display. ¡°Why do you even have a booth? Your junk here is all crap.¡± The biker bristled. ¡°Crap? What are you talking about?¡± Maluck gestured dismissively. ¡°I¡¯m talking about this sad excuse for a booth. You don¡¯t even have anything good here.¡± Ron clenched his fists. ¡°Shut your damn mouth.¡± Maluck said. ¡°Hell, I bet my pocket change is worth more than what you¡¯ve got here. And I know none of it isn¡¯t fake.¡± A small crowd had begun to gather, drawn by the escalating confrontation. Ron sneered. ¡°Oh yeah? You said you¡¯d bet? Alright then, I¡¯ll bet that my collection isn¡¯t fake and that it¡¯s worth more than whatever pocket change you¡¯ve got. What are you putting up?¡± Maluck smirked and pulled out a thick roll of cash¡ªthe winnings from his recent lottery ticket. ¡°I¡¯ll bet this. Think you can afford to match it?¡± Ron, no stranger to handling large sums of cash, eyed the roll greedily. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll take that bet. The total value of my collection against whatever¡¯s in your pocket¡ªfor the full amount of that roll.¡± The biker chuckled, clearly enjoying the spectacle. The crowd now grew bigger, excited to see what was going to happen. Maluck nodded. ¡°Sure. Why don¡¯t we call someone over to judge?¡± The crowd had grown, and among them were a few individuals who appeared knowledgeable about coins. Two stepped forward, their presence commanding attention. ¡°I think we could help.¡± The crowd were excited when they saw who had stepped out to be impromptu judges for this bet. One was Judge Arlo Thornton, a retired federal judge with a deep passion for numismatics, known for his sharp eye for detail and rare coins. The other was Iris Montgomery, a well-known coin collector and historian, recognized across the country for her extensive private collection and her expertise in rare, historical currencies. Judge Thornton adjusted his glasses and looked over the collection with a calm, practiced eye. ¡°I must say, these pieces have potential,¡± he said in a low, gravelly voice. ¡°Not just in their apparent value, but in the stories they could tell. Some of these may be rarer than you think.¡± Iris Montgomery leaned in closer, her fingers lightly tracing the edges of one of the coins. ¡°Yes, indeed. A lot of people think they know what¡¯s valuable, but the true worth is often hidden beneath the surface. I¡¯d be very curious to see what we¡¯re working with here.¡± Maluck stepped forward, nodding. ¡°Alright, what¡¯s the verdict?¡± Judge Thornton raised an eyebrow. ¡°Well, without doing a more thorough examination. I can tell you right now that at least three of these coins have historical significance, and depending on their condition¡­¡± He trailed off, the anticipation hanging in the air. Iris tapped her fingers thoughtfully on the table. ¡°I¡¯d say you¡¯re sitting on something special. I would recommend a full authentication and valuation from an accredited numismatic institute, but just by eye¡­ some of these are worth more than you might guess.¡± They meticulously continued examining Ron¡¯s collection, carefully tallying up the values. After several minutes, Judge Thornton looked up and cleared his throat. ¡°Indeed, a few of these coins, I can¡¯t determine with 100% certainty whether they¡¯re authentic. But the rest add up to roughly $70,000 to $75,000.¡± Nobody would outright say someone¡¯s coins were fake, but saying they couldn¡¯t determine their authenticity was pretty much the polite way of calling them counterfeit. Ron¡¯s face twitched as he crossed his arms, a huff escaping his lips. His gaze flickered between Maluck and the display of coins, clearly unsettled by the revelation that some of his prized collection had questionable authenticity. Despite that, the mention of $70k seemed to have a calming effect on him. It was still a substantial amount, after all. He squinted at Maluck, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. ¡°I think it¡¯s worth more, but I¡¯m sure it¡¯s worth more than you¡¯ve got on you, pretty boy,¡± he said, his voice dripping with a mix of annoyance and begrudging respect. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Maluck slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small collection of coins. He opened his hand, revealing a modest assortment: a few loonies (the Canadian one-dollar coin), some toonies (the Canadian two-dollar coin), a couple of dimes, and a single penny. The clink of metal echoed in the quiet space as the coins settled into his palm, their dull shine hardly reflecting the kind of wealth Ron was expecting. He smirked slightly, knowing this wasn¡¯t exactly what Ron had in mind. The coins seemed out of place next to the pile of rare, valuable treasures they¡¯d been discussing. Maluck met Ron¡¯s gaze with an almost nonchalant expression, as if to say, This is all I¡¯ve got¡ªlet¡¯s see what you make of it. Ron eyed the coins in Maluck¡¯s hand, his eyebrows twitching in confusion. ¡°That¡¯s what you¡¯re putting on the table?¡± he scoffed, his voice tinged with disbelief. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡± Maluck just smiled back at him. Ron burst into laughter. ¡°Looks like you¡¯ve got about six bucks in change.¡± Iris Montgomery carefully examined the coins, nodding in agreement as she assessed their value. ¡°Yeah, about six dollars. Oh, wait a second¡­¡± She paused, her eyes widening as she focused on one of the coins. ¡°Oh my!¡± she exclaimed, a note of excitement creeping into her voice. Judge Thornton, who had been observing quietly, leaned in closer. His voice dropped to a whisper. ¡°Is this what I think it is?¡± Iris nodded slowly, still holding the coin in her hand. ¡°I think so.¡± ¡°Well, looks like we have a winner,¡± Judge Thornton said, a satisfied smile forming on his face. The crowd, still uncertain about what was happening, exchanged curious glances. They had no idea why the two appraisers were so excited over a single penny. Iris held up the penny, adjusting her glasses as she addressed the growing crowd. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, this isn¡¯t just any penny. This is a rare and valuable find!¡± The crowd grew super excited, this was the kind of thing you¡¯d see on TV. ¡°Alright, folks, let me explain why this little coin is worth a fortune. Back in 1982, the Royal Canadian Mint was switching from making pennies mostly out of copper to a cheaper zinc version. The new pennies were supposed to weigh 2.5 grams, while the older copper ones were 3.56 grams. Simple enough, right? ¡°But here¡¯s where it gets interesting¡ªsomewhere in the middle of this change, a mistake happened. A handful of the new pennies were accidentally made with the older, heavier copper. ¡°How many of these rare misprints exist? Maybe three. And you, my friend,¡±¡ªhe pointed at Maluck¡ª¡°just so happened to have one of them in your pocket.¡± The crowd murmured in shock, some people pulling out their own pennies just in case they had a hidden jackpot. The Judge smiled, happy to show off his knowledge. ¡°So, indeed. This penny alone is worth over a hundred grand. Congratulations on your win. And Ron? You might want to start counting your losses.¡± The crowd murmured in surprise, and Ron¡¯s face paled. Iris Montgomery looked at Ron. ¡°Based on this, it seems you¡¯ve lost the bet. You should pay the man.¡± The crowd erupted in cheers and laughter, reveling in Ron¡¯s misfortune. Maluck pocketed the rare penny with a sly grin. ¡°Guess my pocket change isn¡¯t so worthless after all.¡± Ron, defeated and humiliated, begrudgingly pulled out a few bills to cover Chloe¡¯s back wages, muttering under his breath. Maluck eyed the stack¡ªjust a thousand bucks¡ªand then turned his gaze back to Ron with a sly smirk. ¡°Sorry, friend,¡± he said, stretching the word ¡°friend¡± with enough sarcasm to make it practically drip. ¡°But the bet wasn¡¯t just about Chloe¡¯s wages, was it? You remember the terms¡ªmy roll against the same amount of cash. Not just the back wages.¡± He waved the thick wad of bills again, just to rub it in. ¡°And my pocket change just outperformed your entire display. So¡­¡± Maluck¡¯s eyes flicked down to the small, almost pathetic stack of bills Ron had pulled out, barely over a thousand. ¡°Looks like you¡¯re a little short, don¡¯t you think?¡± Ron¡¯s face, already twisted in anger from the thought of handing over Chloe¡¯s last paycheck, darkened further. Losing that money was bad enough, but now he was on the hook for nine grand on top of it. With the growing crowd still watching, there was no way he could just slink away. If he tried, his reputation among the other coin dealers would be in shambles. Worse, after the subtle accusations that some of his coins might not be entirely authentic, word would spread fast. No one in the industry would trust him, and coin collectors could be ruthless when it came to sniffing out fraud. Grinding his teeth so hard it looked like he might crack a molar, Ron reluctantly reached into his cash reserves. His fingers curled around each roll of bills like he was about to strangle them before he slapped them onto the table. Every muscle in his face twitched as he peeled off the cash, looking more pained with each bill that left his possession. Maluck, thoroughly enjoying every second of Ron¡¯s slow descent into financial despair, counted along in his head like he was savoring a fine meal. Eight thousand. Eight thousand five hundred. Nine thousand, one hundred. Ron¡¯s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white as he practically growled through gritted teeth. ¡°There. Happy now?¡± Maluck picked up the money, gave it a slow, deliberate count, and then let out a theatrical sigh, shaking his head. ¡°Not really. My roll was $9,180¡ªlooks like you¡¯re a little short.¡± He reached into his own pocket and rattled some loose change. ¡°If you need, I can spot you a couple quarters.¡± The crowd erupted into laughter, a few people even literally slapping their knees. The moment Maluck rattled his loose change, the crowd lost it. ¡°Ohhh DAMN!¡± someone hollered from the back. ¡°Yo, this man just penny-shamed you, Ron!¡± another laughed. ¡°I thought this was a coin show, not a public execution!¡± A guy in a vintage hockey jersey let out a loud whistle. ¡°Somebody get this man some aloe for that burn!¡± One of the older collectors, a distinguished-looking man with a monocle¡ªyes, an actual monocle¡ªshook his head. ¡°This is the worst financial decision I¡¯ve witnessed in decades. And I was there for the Weenie Baby crash.¡± Meanwhile, a younger guy with a Pok¨¦monsters card binder was recording on his phone, grinning ear to ear. ¡°Oh, this is going straight to CoinTok.¡± A woman elbowed her husband and cackled. ¡°That¡¯s what you get for lowballing customers, Ronald!¡± Ron, jaw clenched so tight it could cut diamonds, threw the extra twenties down with enough force to make them flutter dramatically in the air before landing in front of Maluck. ¡°Damn, he had to dig real deep for those last bills,¡± someone said with mock sympathy. Another man shook his head and muttered, ¡°Bro¡¯s about to start charging entry fees just to breathe near his booth.¡± The laughter didn¡¯t stop, even as Ron turned a shade of red not commonly found in nature. Maluck picked them up with a satisfied grin. ¡°Pleasure doing business.¡± As Maluck walked away, the biker leaned in close to Ron, his voice low and gravelly. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll get it back.¡± Ron, still seething, barely acknowledged him, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. His face was a mix of humiliation and barely contained rage, the kind of look that promised petty revenge in the near future. The biker cracked his knuckles, a slow, deliberate sound, like someone snapping the neck of Ron¡¯s dignity one vertebra at a time. ¡°Nobody takes the cash like that and walks away clean, right?¡± Ron exhaled sharply through his nose, nostrils flaring. ¡°Damn right,¡± he muttered. Behind them, the crowd was still buzzing, some people filming, others still laughing at the spectacle. Somewhere, a vendor was already making a joke about limited edition Ron Rage Coins being the next big collectible. But Ron wasn¡¯t listening. He was too busy plotting. CHAPTER 46 The crowd dispersed, many still chuckling at the unexpected turn of events. Maluck returned to the hotel and, without ceremony, tossed the thick roll of cash onto the bed in front of Chloe. ¡°Got your back wages. And a little extra.¡± Chloe caught it, flipping through the bills with practiced fingers. Her eyebrow shot up. ¡°A little extra?¡± Maluck smirked and held up what was left of his own stack. ¡°Whoa! So much?¡± she said, eyes widening. ¡°What the hell did you do? Rob the guy?¡± ¡°Something like that,¡± Maluck said, grinning. ¡°Let¡¯s just say your ex-boss bet against me and¡­ well, he lost. Badly.¡± Chloe gave him an amused but skeptical look. ¡°I don¡¯t know whether to be impressed or deeply amused.¡± ¡°Oh, be both,¡± Maluck said, flopping onto the couch. ¡°Because it gets better. The whole thing got recorded and put on Cointok.¡± Chloe¡¯s eyes lit up like a jackpot winner. ¡°You¡¯re kidding. I have to see this.¡± She grabbed her phone and pulled up the app, scrolling until she found the trending video. And there it was¡ªthe now-infamous clip of Ron¡¯s humiliation, with thousands of likes and comments rolling in. The camera had caught everything: Maluck¡¯s smug confidence, Ron¡¯s growing frustration, the crowd absolutely eating it up as a single penny wrecked a man¡¯s entire week. They watched it together, and Maluck, in secret, thought he looked quite handsome and delightfully arrogant. The best part? [System Task Complete]: Make sure this bastard learns the value of fair pay. Bonus based on severity. ?.02 Perception ?.02 Intelligence As the notification faded, Maluck stretched, utterly content. Chloe snorted. ¡°Damn, I should¡¯ve quit way sooner.¡± They both laughed, the tension of the day melting away. *** Now that Chloe wasn¡¯t working and Maluck had nothing pressing to do while waiting for his check to clear, he decided to spend the next three days just lounging in the hotel. Seriously, that was the plan. He and Chloe had fun in the gym, he suffered the occasional bad luck incident, and he focused on one main goal¡ªbuilding up his Bad Luck Points. For three days, Maluck let the bad luck roll in. Small annoyances. Minor inconveniences. A slow, steady avalanche of bullshit. First, the shower water turned ice cold exactly ten seconds into washing his hair. He stood there, shampoo dripping down his face, praying for the hot water to come back before he lost feeling in his toes. Spoiler: It didn¡¯t. Then, there was the socks conspiracy. Somehow, every time he put on a pair, at least one was mysteriously damp. It wasn¡¯t water. It wasn¡¯t coffee. It wasn¡¯t anything he could explain. And he hated it. His fancy complimentary hotel pen exploded in his hand, leaving him looking like he had just lost a fight with an ink demon. The ink did not wash off easily. His fingers looked like he had taken up calligraphy as a blood sport. His toothpaste tube betrayed him, exploding not just onto his toothbrush, but all over the sink and mirror. Like a damn crime scene. Then came the cursed gym towel incident. After a solid workout, he grabbed a fresh towel, only to find it had a mysterious rough patch right in the middle. Like it had been washed in pure spite. It was like drying off with mild sandpaper. His shoes developed a squeak. Not a normal squeak. A loud, aggressive, mocking squeak that happened only when he walked on marble floors. The problem? The entire damn hotel was marble. At night, his phone kept slipping off the bedside table for absolutely no reason. Gravity was against him. And then, just as he hit 99 BP, Maluck sat down in triumph¡­ and knocked over his glass of water. Right into his lap. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. He checked his BP, sighing. Bad Luck Points (BP): 99. ¡®Finally.¡¯ And then, as if the universe wanted to add one last F U, the TV remote batteries died. There, at last, he hit 100 BP! Grinning, he immediately went to use the Fortune Tuner. 25 LP was all he needed. Then he realized. He had no LP. SERIOUSLY?! Once he converted all that BP, he¡¯d have a nice, fat 50 LP to work with. But right now? He was completely screwed. ¡®Why wasn¡¯t he smarter? Why didn¡¯t he save some LPs?¡¯ Maluck sat there, staring at his stat screen, feeling like the biggest idiot in the universe. 100 BP. 0 LP. This was not the awesomeness he thought it would be. Now, he deeply regretted every single time he had mocked protagonists in novels who hoarded their points like dragons sitting on gold. ¡°Use your damn skill points, dumbass!¡± he had yelled at his phone countless times while reading. ¡°Why are you so worried about emergencies!¡± Turns out, it wasn¡¯t about emergencies. It was about having a buffer for when you were a dumbass. Which he clearly was. He groaned and flopped onto the bed, dramatically covering his face with a pillow. The System, ever helpful, decided now was the perfect time to rub it in. [System Response] ¡°Actions have consequences. Maybe next time, manage your resources better.¡± Maluck shot up. ¡°Are you serious right now?!¡± No response. Because, of course, the System only talked when it wanted to insult him. He flopped back down, arms spread, staring at the ceiling. He could feel the cosmic judgment pressing down on him. He was a fool. The clown. The absolute buffoon who had let himself hit 100 BP without a single LP in reserve. He sighed. He had exactly two options right now: 1.Find a way to get LP immediately. 2.Pray his bad luck didn¡¯t hit him with a major disaster before he figured out Option 1. A knock at the door made him tense. ¡®Oh no. It begins.¡¯ *** Thankfully, it was just Chloe, who had forgotten her key card and also didn¡¯t feel like looking shady while breaking into the room. He greeted her with a quick, distracted ¡°hi,¡± before immediately pacing around the room, deep in thought. Maluck gritted his teeth. He was completely stuck. He could feel the pressure building. The Bad Luck points were at a dangerous high, and he still hadn¡¯t figured out a way to solve the problem. Every second that time ticked by, it was a second closer to an unexplainable flower pot dropping onto him from a third floor window. With 100 BP, any Good Luck event would first burn through all his Bad Luck Points¡ªwhich meant no LP gained. That also meant buying Koala Kola¡¯s was useless. Any ¡°Sorry, try again.¡± would just lower BP without actually giving him LP. Last time, he had burned it down to about 6 BP before he started winning sodas. Completely useless. And gambling? Same issue. He could lose money, sure, but all it would do was lower BP. There was no way to generate LP from it. That left him with only one option. System Tasks. Maluck sighed. He just knew the System was going to make him do something stupid. He needed to trick the System into giving him a task¡ªpreferably one with LP as a reward. But how? ¡°Hey, System,¡± he said out loud, rubbing his temples. ¡°I could really use a System task right now.¡± [System Response] ¡°Then go do something interesting.¡± ¡°¡­That¡¯s not helpful.¡± [System Response] ¡°Neither is sitting in your room whining.¡± Maluck groaned. He needed a plan. The thing about System tasks was that Maluck had noticed something weird¡ªthe System had moods. Sometimes it was angry. Sometimes it was greedy, pushing him to make money. And sometimes¡­ sometimes it was downright slutty, practically encouraging him to go out and experience the pleasures of the world like a damn harem novel protagonist. But today? Today, the System had apparently become a prude. When Maluck asked, ¡°System, I need some LPs. What¡¯s the best way to do that? Should I go pick up some girls with Chloe?¡± The response came instantly. [System Response] Oh no! Don¡¯t do that! Chastity is, like, so important! Everyone should strive for it! I mean, do you really want to be just another guy chasing after fleeting pleasures instead of embracing true virtue? No way! You¡¯re better than that! Maluck blinked. What. The. Hell. ¡°Are you serious? There¡¯s still a System task for me to convince Chloe to have a threesome!¡± [System Response] Oh-em-gee, no way! Chastity is, like, super important! You gotta keep your heart pure and your mind focused on, y¡¯know, wholesome things! No distractions, just good, clean fun! Also¡­ uhh, that task? Yeahhh, it kinda expired. Too bad! But hey! New day, new blessings, right?! Maluck rubbed his temples. ¡°I think you just called me a sinner.¡± [System Response]If the shoe fits, girl! But maybe let¡¯s try on a different pair¡ªone that walks the path of goodness and light! Maluck groaned harder. Of all the personalities it could have woken up with today, it had to be the judgmental nun. ¡°Alright, fine,¡± he said. ¡°So¡­ no LP for picking up girls. What about gambling?¡± [System Response] Oh no, bestie! Gambling is a total no-go! It¡¯s just setting yourself up for trouble. Let¡¯s focus on making honest, wholesome choices instead! Maluck squinted. ¡°That¡¯s rich, coming from a luck-based System.¡± [System Response] It¡¯s one thing to wisely manage fortune, but it¡¯s another to just throw it all away like confetti! Would you toss pearls into a pigpen? Let¡¯s make smarter choices! Maluck threw up his hands. ¡°Okay, fine. What do I do then? How do I get LP?¡± The System paused before answering. [System Response] Oh gee, Bestie! I guess I could whip up some Tasks for you! Buuuut just a heads-up¡ªthey¡¯ll be a bit tougher. And, like, if you fail? There might be some penalties. Try your best :) Maluck sighed. ¡°Looks like I have to go feed orphans or help an old lady cross the street or something.¡± [System Response]Aww, Bestie! A heart that gives is a heart that totally prospers! Spread that kindness like rainbows and hugs! Maluck glared at nothing. ¡°I swear, if tomorrow you wake up as Greedy System again and start telling me to hoard money, I¡¯m gonna sue for emotional whiplash.¡± He decided, even though he had the Prudey System today, at least it had given him some hints. If Chastity knew he had nicknamed her Prudey System, she might have given control to Justice so she could smite him! She just wanted him to be pure! ¡°Welp. Guess I¡¯m spending the day doing wholesome stuff. Better start looking up soup kitchens.¡± Maluck groaned. Being a good person was going to be so much work. *** CHAPTER 47 The System has responded to his desperate plea for help and issued him his first task, that had a chance of a negative. [System Task]: Avoid impure thoughts for one hour. Reward: +5 LP Failure Penalty: -10 LP Maluck stared at the notification. He was immediately screwed. Chloe existed. She walked around. She breathed. He was doomed. Knowing how important it was for him to get some LP¡ªand absolutely not wanting to find out what happened if he hit negative LP¡ªMaluck decided to prepare before hitting accept on the system task. First, he needed to get rid of any distractions.AKA Chloe. He turned to Chloe. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m gonna need an hour by myself. Do you mind heading to the coffee shop or the restaurant or¡­ anywhere?¡± Chloe gave him a look. The kind of look that made it very clear she was absolutely thinking something inappropriate. ¡°¡­Are you about to do something dirty? Maybe tug the old sausage? Give the dark lord some punishment?¡± Maluck groaned. ¡°No! Absolutely not! But it¡¯s really important that I have complete silence for the next hour. You could even say the fate of the entire company depends on it.¡± She folded her arms, still eyeing him with suspicion. ¡°You sure? Because this really sounds like the kind of thing a guy says before he locks the door and¡ª¡± Maluck immediately cut her off. ¡°I swear on all things holy, Chloe, there will be no weird stuff happening. I just need to be alone for exactly one hour, no interruptions.¡± She sipped her coffee, considering this. ¡°Alright, fine. But if I come back and anything smells weird, I¡¯m quitting.¡± With that, she grabbed her bag and headed out. He accepted the Task as soon as she left the room. [System Task Active: Avoid impure thoughts for one hour.] Time Remaining: 59:59 Reward: +5 LP Failure Penalty: -10 LP Maluck took a deep breath. ¡®Alright, just one hour of pure, innocent thoughts. Easy.¡¯ He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the blank TV screen. Maybe turning it on would help? Wait, no. That¡¯s a trap. Commercials have bikini models. Hell, even yogurt ads are risky these days. He stood up and started pacing. That was safe. Pacing was pure. ¡®Okay, what¡¯s something totally neutral?¡¯ He decided to mentally review tax laws. Nothing was less sexy than tax deductions. He started making a mental list of the tax exemptions he needed to put together for Soi. ¡®Let¡¯s see¡ªrestaurant bill, gym bill, hotel bill, lubricant and condo bill¡­ ah, crap!¡¯ He tried doing push-ups. Good, good, exercise was productive. But after the third push-up, his mind wandered to Chloe doing stretches at the gym and¡ªNOPE. He switched tactics, grabbing a hotel notepad and writing out math equations. 198 x 69 Wait. 69? That was the exact position Chloe had suggested this morning when she¡ªSTOP. Time Remaining: 28:17 Maluck was breaking into a cold sweat. This was so much harder than it should be. He tried to think of safe, innocent things. Puppies. Grandma¡¯s knitting. A rock. Just a plain, boring rock. School. Then his brain betrayed him. ¡®What if Chloe wore glasses and had a librarian outfit¡ªNO!¡¯ He faceplanted into the bed and screamed into a pillow. Time Remaining: 10:42 He had reached a state of mental exhaustion. He stared at the ceiling, whispering the alphabet backward just to keep his mind occupied. Z¡­Y ¡­X¡­¡­¡­.. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Finally, the timer hit zero. [System Task Complete!] +5 LP Earned! Maluck let out the biggest sigh of relief in his life. He had done it. He had fought the horny demons in his own head and emerged victorious. A few minutes later, Chloe walked in, holding a fresh coffee. ¡°So? Did you save the company?¡± Maluck sat there, looking like a war survivor. ¡°¡­Yes.¡± She raised an eyebrow. ¡°You look like you just fought a battle.¡± ¡°You have no idea,¡± he muttered. She sat down and stretched. ¡°Well, whatever you did, I hope it was worth it.¡± Maluck checked his system screen, saw the +5 LP, and clenched his fist. ¡°Oh, it was.¡± *** After completing his first System Task¡ªand basking in the glorious freedom of being able to have impure thoughts about Chloe again¡ªMaluck decided to go for another one. [System Task Generated!] Objective: Compliment someone without it sounding flirty. Rewards & Penalties: ?If they simply say, ¡°Thanks,¡± ¡ú +3 LP ?If they look annoyed and assume he¡¯s hitting on them ¡ú -5 LP ?If they respond with, ¡°Are you okay?¡± ¡ú -10 LP Uh, man, this was gonna be hard. Maluck stared at the system task, already feeling the pressure. He couldn¡¯t compliment Chloe¡ªshe was literally the only person in the room, and that would definitely come off as flirty. Hell, even when he wasn¡¯t trying to be flirty, she usually thought he was being flirty. He also briefly entertained the idea of just randomly walking around the hotel, finding someone to compliment, and seeing if that would give him some much-needed positive LP. But then he realized¡ª nope. ¡°Basically,¡± he said to himself, ¡°if a hot guy says something nice, it¡¯s charming. If a regular guy says it, it¡¯s weird. And if I say it? Well, that¡¯s probably just me losing negative LP points faster than a slot machine eating your quarters.¡± Maluck sighed, rolling his eyes at his own absurdity. If only the System made it easier to be genuinely nice without the awkward risk of sounding like a total creeper. Yeah, no. Time to find someone else to compliment. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m heading out for a bit,¡± he said, standing up. Chloe raised an eyebrow. ¡°I just got back. Now you¡¯re leaving? What¡¯s up?¡± ¡°No reason!¡± he said way too quickly, already heading for the door. Now she was definitely suspicious. Was it something she did? Nah, impossible. ¡®I¡¯m awesome,¡¯ she thought, brushing it off. Meanwhile, Maluck was already roaming the hotel, scanning for potential targets. The gym? Nope. Complimenting someone on their form was basically a one-way ticket to being labeled a gym creep. The restaurant? Too risky. If he told a waiter they had great service, they might smirk and assume he was angling for their number. Then, like a divine gift from the system itself, he spotted the Activity Center. Today¡¯s event? Knitting Circle. ¡®Perfect.¡¯ Maluck walked in, immediately spotting a circle of elderly ladies, all hunched over colorful balls of yarn. The air smelled like lavender and Werther¡¯s Singles. ¡®Alright, just play it cool.¡¯ He spotted one woman who had knitted an impressively long scarf, looking like something straight out of a fantasy RPG. ¡°Hey, uh, sorry to interrupt,¡± he said casually, peeking in. ¡°I thought it was a different activity day, but¡ª¡± He glanced at her work and nodded. ¡°That¡¯s a really nice scarf, by the way.¡± The old woman looked up, her eyes twinkling behind her thick glasses as she smiled warmly. ¡°Thanks!¡± she said in a voice that sounded like it had been honed through decades of pleasant exchanges with shopkeepers and neighbors. She paused for a moment, then glanced down at the colorful scarf in her hands, the yarn slipping through her fingers with a soft click-clack of the needles. ¡°You know, this scarf¡¯s for my grandson, Billy. He¡¯s about to graduate from college, bless his heart. He¡¯s studying engineering, though I don¡¯t quite understand it. All I know is he keeps telling me about ¡®thermodynamics¡¯ and ¡®electric circuits¡¯ and I nod, but really, I¡¯m just waiting for him to ask me if I have some nice hot cocoa ready.¡± She chuckled softly, shaking her head. ¡°Billy, though, he¡¯s such a good boy. Always calls me at least once a week, even if he¡¯s got his head buried in textbooks. You wouldn¡¯t believe how many times I¡¯ve made him a big batch of cookies after a hard day of studying. I think he¡¯s just using it as an excuse to eat my cookies if I¡¯m being honest.¡± She looked back at her knitting, her hands working with a steady rhythm. ¡°But this scarf, oh, it¡¯s gonna be special. I¡¯m telling you, the colors match his school¡¯s team, and every time he wears it, he¡¯ll remember how proud I am of him. Of course, I¡¯ll probably get a little emotional when he does.¡± Her eyes softened as she continued to knit. ¡°That boy¡¯s grown up so fast. It feels like just yesterday I was making him little mittens for his first winter. Now he¡¯s got this big ol¡¯ brain full of fancy science stuff, and he¡¯s about to take on the world. Makes a grandmother proud, it does.¡± Maluck patiently listened to her ramble on about her grandson. If this was the price he was going to have to pay to accomplish this task, it was worth it. After the story was over, the System Task popped up in his mind. [System Task Accomplished!] +3 LP Maluck resisted the urge to fist-pump. ¡®Nailed it.¡¯ He knew the System probably wanted him to compliment somebody who had a chance of taking it the wrong way, as if it were some sort of training exercise for his ¡°harmless compliment skills.¡± But honestly? He really had no interest in doing that. ¡°I mean, who needs that kind of drama?¡± he muttered to himself. ¡°Compliment someone, and suddenly you¡¯re either a creep or an unwanted romantic interest. No thanks, System. I¡¯ll pass on this lesson in ¡®How to Make Awkward Small Talk 101¡¯.¡± He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his luck and the absurdity of it all. At this point, he¡¯d rather face a fire-breathing dragon than try to navigate the minefield of giving a compliment without accidentally becoming a character in a bad rom-com. ¡®Technicalities and old ladies with hearing problems for the win.¡¯ Maluck checked his LP count. Luck Points: 8. He was getting so close. Just 17 more points, and he could finally use the Fortune Tuner to turn his BP nightmare into sweet, sweet LP goodness. ¡®Come on, System. Throw me a bone here.¡¯ Of course, the System remained conspicuously silent. Probably because it was still in Chastity Mode, meaning any request for an easy LP gain was going to come with some wholesome moral lesson. And after what he had been through? He hoped it wasn¡¯t another Task that required purity of thought. That last one had been brutal. ¡®I barely survived the last one, and that was with Chloe out of the room. If she so much as breathes near me, I¡¯m gonna fail instantly.¡¯ So he needed safe LP gains. Something easy. Something that wouldn¡¯t have hidden pitfalls, like, ¡°Go rescue a kitten from a tree, but if it scratches you, you lose 20 LP.¡± CHAPTER 48 [System Task: Dress Modestly for a Day] Maluck stared at the task and tried to think about what a day entailed. He had to clarify if it was 24 hours because there¡¯s no way he could do that. Especially since the 7 LP wouldn¡¯t get him to the 25 LP that he needed. Maluck frowned at the screen and asked, ¡®What exactly counts as a ¡®day¡¯?¡¯ [System Response] Oh heck, that¡¯s a good question! You¡¯re really smart, Bestie! Let¡¯s say¡­ eight hours! Maluck thought it over. ¡®Eight hours? Yeah, I can do that. That still gives me time to rack up more LP later, and I already have a plan in mind.¡¯ Maluck grabbed his keys and called out, ¡°Hey Chloe, I¡¯m heading out.¡± He jumped into his car and started driving to the mall, but immediately, he heard some very suspicious noises coming from the engine. His BP had climbed to 102, and it seemed like his car was about to punish him for it. ¡®Come on, baby, you can make it,¡¯ he thought, gripping the wheel. Thankfully, luck¡ªor at least the lack of catastrophic bad luck¡ªwas still on his side. By the time he rolled into the mall parking lot, his BP had dropped to 101. ¡®Phew. Made it.¡¯ It seemed like his bad luck would have kicked in if a piece of good luck hadn¡¯t stopped it. And the bad luck? Well, it definitely would¡¯ve involved his car¡ªprobably with the engine blowing up right after he ran out of gas, while also getting a flat tire and being stuck in a thunderstorm. He walked into the mall, heading straight for a PAG store, because if he was going to dress like a respectable, non-threatening, non-fashionable citizen, he was going to do it right. He bought a pair of khakis and a polo shirt, the universal uniform of middle-aged dads and guys who get just a little too excited about lawn care. As soon as he put them on, he muttered, ¡®System, accept task.¡¯ [Task Timer Started: 8 Hours] After putting on his new outfit and paying for his purchase, he immediately dashed out of the store before anyone he actually knew could see him. Jumping back into his car, he reassured himself, ¡®Okay, I should be safe in here. No one should be looking at me.¡¯ But then came the next question: Where was he going to spend the next eight hours safe from ridicule and still get a compliment on his outfit? A quick SkewSearch later, he found the perfect place: a Christian youth group hosting a ¡°Board Games & Spirituality¡± event. ¡®Perfect. No one is gonna judge khakis and a polo in that crowd.¡¯ He drove over to the rec center and, sure enough, spotted a group of teens hanging out. A few of them were even wearing similar outfits. ¡®Thanks, guys. Appreciate the camouflage.¡¯ One of the kids looked up and said, ¡°Nice outfit! Are you here for board games?¡± That technically counted as a compliment right? He was correct! [Task Requirement Met: Got a Compliment on Your Outfit!] ¡®Boom! Part one complete.¡¯ Maluck immediately turned on his heel, and said to the friendly tee, . ¡°Oh! Uh, I just forgot something at my place. Be right back.¡± He wasn¡¯t coming back. This would sadden Brad, who had been looking forward to having a new possible friend to play board games and discuss spirituality with. But Maluck would never know that. Checking the timer, he had seven hours left. He needed somewhere really safe to hide out where no one would see him. Simple. He pulled out his phone and made a call. ¡°Al¡¯s Storage.¡± ¡°Hey, I need to rent a warehouse. Something big enough to park a car in.¡± ¡°How long?¡± ¡°One day.¡± ¡°All right, we¡¯ve got one in the city. Do you need someone to meet you there?¡± ¡°Nope, just make sure the door is unlocked.¡± ¡°Can I take payment over the phone?¡± ¡°Sure, here¡¯s my Visex number.¡± A $150 charge later, Maluck was speeding toward the warehouse, grinning. He rolled up the door, drove inside, and slammed it shut behind him. ¡®Ha! Seven hours? No problem. I can sit here in silence and cruise my way to free LP. Take that, System!¡¯ *** Seven hours passed. Everything was going fine¡ªuntil his phone died. Now he was sitting in complete darkness, alone, in his car, with nothing to do. He debated turning on the interior lights, but then paranoia kicked in. ¡®What if I forget to turn them off and kill my battery? What if I accidentally turn on the engine and somehow gas myself to death with carbon monoxide?¡¯ It wasn¡¯t likely. Technically, modern cars were designed to prevent that sort of thing. But with 115 BP? Not. Freaking. Risking. It. So there he sat, staring into the void, trying not to fall asleep, trying not to let his mind wander to impure thoughts (just to practice), and questioning every life decision that had led him to this moment. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. [System Task Completed: Dress Modestly for a Full Day] Yay! You did it, Bestie! Eight whole hours of dressing wholesome and respectable! Wasn¡¯t that great! +7 LP for choosing virtue over vanity! And hey, no one laughed at you! (Khakis and a polo? Great choice! See you can dress nicely and still be fashionable!) Before completing the fashion task, he had 17 LP left to earn. He just gained +7 LP from dressing modestly. So now, his total LP is 12. Still not enough for the 25 LP needed to use the Fortune Tuner. He was getting closer, though! ¡°Hey, System, I need more points. Can you give me a couple of Tasks at once?¡± [System Response] No problem, bestie. Here we go! [System Task Assigned: Mega Purity Challenge for Bestie!] Task 1: Watch an Entire Documentary About Celibacy Task 2: Read a Book That Promotes Virtue and Restraint Task 3: Avoid Alcohol, Caffeine, and Other ¡®Earthly Indulgences¡¯ for a Day ¡°System, where can I go see this documentary? My phone¡¯s dead.¡± [System Response] Don¡¯t worry. I can play it directly into your mind. ¡°What?¡± [System Response] Here we go. And that was the moment he lost two hours of his life to the most soul-sucking movie he¡¯d ever seen. It was painfully obvious that some preachy church group had thrown money at this, hoping to convert lost souls through sheer boredom. He had to resist laughing. The worst part? Resisting laughing wasn¡¯t just about keeping a straight face¡ªit was about keeping a straight mind. Every time the giggles crept in, he had to reroute his brain with, ¡®Hmm, that¡¯s an interesting choice. I wonder why they did that? And look at this technique. They used a very interesting mise-en-scene here, where they placed the actual religious text as a symbol for the teen¡¯s unwavering faith towards celibacy. The placement of the book on the nightstand, so strategically in frame, speaks volumes about the character¡¯s internal conflict¡ªperhaps a bit too loudly, but nonetheless effective. It¡¯s almost as if the book is a constant reminder of her pledge, watching over her every move, like a silent guardian of virtue. Ah, yes. The director¡¯s use of a long lens in this shot was also quite intentional. Unlike the tight, frenetic cuts often used to express anxiety or urgency, this long lens allows us to take in the scene slowly, almost meditatively. It stretches the moment, making us feel the weight of the character¡¯s decisions, and perhaps even our own discomfort as we watch her struggle. The framing creates distance¡ªnot just from the character but also from the viewer¡¯s understanding of her world. The lens elongates the space between them, forcing us to confront her actions with a certain level of detachment, but also drawing us in, forcing us to examine what motivates her. Hmm. Very, very interesting choices. Why not go for something shorter, something more action-cut, something that would place us in the thick of the emotional conflict with the character? But no, instead, we are kept at a distance, both physically and emotionally. It¡¯s a calculated move, Mr. Director. The lack of action-packed shots gives us room to breathe and process, but it also heightens the tension, creating a sense of expectation. Now, this whole sequence really comes together when you look back at the scene from 20 minutes ago. The female character, earlier in the film, asked that seemingly innocent question: ¡°What exactly is celibacy?¡± A question that appeared trivial at the time, but in hindsight, it¡¯s a pivotal moment. The question wasn¡¯t just curiosity; it was a way for the character to explore her own unspoken doubts. And now, in this moment, the director brings us back to that inquiry, using it as a kind of foreshadowing. The girl¡¯s journey with celibacy becomes a metaphor for her own inner turmoil, and the director makes sure we see every single inch of it, from the placement of the book to the weight of the decision she¡¯s facing. It¡¯s fascinating how the director has woven these details together, almost like a delicate thread binding the character¡¯s past to her present. These small, seemingly insignificant moments now stand as symbols for her larger internal conflict. She doesn¡¯t just want to stay true to her faith, she¡¯s desperately trying to understand it. These choices, these deliberate pacing and framing decisions¡ªthey¡¯re all part of a masterstroke in narrative and visual storytelling. The pacing here is the key: deliberate, slow, and patient, forcing us to watch, feel, and reconsider every moment.¡¯ Got it! Let me rewrite this, keeping the two skills separate for clarity: By doing this, he tapped into his Pop Culture Trivia Skill, and his Memorizing Obscure Facts Skill, to reframe the entire movie. Instead of focusing on the documentary¡¯s actual subject, he treated it as an analysis of an obscure cult film. He shifted the focus to the making of the documentary itself rather than its content, which made it feel less like a soul suckingly boring film and more like a deep dive into B movie directorial choices. It helped him see the film in a new light. On top of that, by using his skills in overanalyzing film direction, he had fun blowing things out of proportion for dramatic effect. Most of his analysis was probably inaccurate, and the director might not have meant half of what he was suggesting. But regardless of its accuracy, it was occupying his mind, and that was enough. When it finally ended, he had successfully completed the first task. And also had a great time doing so. ¡®Maybe I should post my review on Rotted Potatoes?¡¯ *** After the movie was over, he faced a new challenge: obtaining a 50-page book about celibacy. This task was fraught with peril, as it required driving, and he had just accumulated four more BP. So, he resolved to be exceptionally careful. Navigating the streets with the focused precision of a neurosurgeon, he deftly weaved through traffic, keeping his focus sharp and his reflexes even sharper. His steering wheel grip was steady, and each turn was calculated, making the city traffic feel like an expertly choreographed dance. Every red light and pedestrian seemed to fall into his rhythm as he effortlessly moved from block to block. Then, just as he was congratulating himself on his flawless drive, disaster struck. A pigeon, seemingly sent from the heavens to ruin his perfect track record, swooped down out of nowhere with all the grace of a missile on a crash course. The bird flapped frantically, aiming straight for his windshield, making a beeline as if it had a death wish. In that split second, he had no choice but to swerve slightly¡ªjust enough to avoid a tragic avian collision but not enough to cause a scene. He sighed in relief as the pigeon veered off, safely out of harm¡¯s way. ¡°Well, that was a close call,¡± he muttered, shaking his head. ¡°It¡¯s always something with these damn pigeons.¡± He checked his rearview mirror, making sure the bird wasn¡¯t plotting another attack. With his heart rate still elevated but his driving intact, he continued on, determined to reach his destination without further interference. The bookstore loomed ahead, a grand edifice that resembled a cathedral more than a place of commerce. He half-expected to be handed a hymnal upon entry. Inside, he approached a cheerful assistant. ¡°Excuse me, do you have any books on celibacy? Preferably for teenagers. Or even better, pre-teens!¡± He was eager for big fonts and plenty of pictures. The assistant¡¯s smile faltered. ¡°For¡­ pre-teens?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± he replied, ¡°something light and engaging. Maybe with cartoons? It has to be at least 50 pages though.¡± The assistant blinked. ¡°Let me check.¡± She scurried away, leaving him amidst shelves of spiritual enlightenment. As he waited, he couldn¡¯t help but chuckle at the absurdity. Here he was, a grown man, seeking a celibacy primer designed for kids. He imagined the illustrations: a cartoon character with a halo, saying, ¡°Just say no¡­ to everything!¡± The assistant returned, holding a colourful volume titled ¡°Waiting is Cool!¡± adorned with a smiling ice cube mascot. ¡°This might be what you¡¯re looking for.¡± He took the book, suppressing a laugh. ¡°Perfect. Just what I had in mind.¡± Mission accomplished, he left the bookstore, pondering how life had led him to this moment. *** CHAPTER 49 His no-alcohol, no-coffee, no-sugar sentence only had four more hours to go, and oh, was he suffering. The withdrawal was real. ¡®But actually¡­ it wasn¡¯t that bad,¡¯ he told himself. He was on a health kick, after all. Sure, he¡¯d been hitting the gym, but his diet had been adequate at best. This task? Not nearly as torturous as some of the others. Originally, he planned to drive to a coffee shop and read his book, but then his brain caught up with his body. ¡®Wait. Coffee shop? That¡¯s very, very bad. Very, very tempting.¡¯ A place designed to lure people in with the sweet siren song of caffeine and sugar? Absolutely not. Okay, what about a bar? ¡®Oh. Right. Alcohol. That would also be breaking the rules.¡¯ Maybe a church? ¡®Pfft, yeah, right.¡¯ He wasn¡¯t that desperate. So he just drove. Aimlessly. Contemplating life, celibacy, and whether this was what rock bottom looked like. That¡¯s when he noticed something odd. Two motorcycles. Tailing him. ¡®What the hell?¡¯ His Tactics & Strategy: Excellent and Piloting (Vehicles): Average skills kicked into gear, flashing red alarms in his brain. If he were still in the military, he would have noticed earlier. But no¡ªhis brain had been full of ¡®how to be pure¡¯ and ¡®how to get Luck Points¡¯, and that had clearly delayed his paranoia response. He wouldn¡¯t have noticed them at all if not for his random, indecisive driving. It was his own erratic movements¡ªhis constant turns as he rejected location after location¡ªthat had triggered it. He zigged. They zigged. He changed his mind and zagged. They followed. And honestly, two guys on loud choppers weren¡¯t exactly the definition of subtle. Fine. Let¡¯s see what they wanted. He pulled over in a quiet area, a small park with a bench and a nice little tree. Most importantly, there were no coffee shops, no bars, and no sugar peddlers in sight. Just him, his celibacy book, and two very loud, very obvious bikers rolling up behind him. *** Maluck stepped out of his car, genuinely curious about what these two bikers wanted. Was it a smart move? Probably not for most people. But he wasn¡¯t most people. He wasn¡¯t even worried. Well, except for one thing¡ªthe mountain of BP¡¯s he was sitting on. With that many Bad Luck Points, this was not a great time for a fight. Turns out, these guys were from the same gang that Ron¡¯s buddy Sasquatch was in. ¡®Or was it Bigfoot?¡¯ He forgot what he had called him. Didn¡¯t really matter. These guys weren¡¯t here to make friends. A [System Task] popped up in front of him: HURT THESE FUCKERS +0.01 Strength +0.01 Dexterity +0.02 Health Maluck laughed out loud when he saw that. ¡°Fuck yeah!¡± Finally, something that wasn¡¯t about celibacy. ¡°Hey, asshole! What the fuck are you laughing at?¡± one of the bikers growled as he stepped off his bike. ¡°You¡¯ve got our money!¡± Maluck raised an eyebrow. ¡°That¡¯s weird. I¡¯ve never met you before, so how could I possibly have your money?¡± The other biker scoffed. ¡°Ah, real smart-ass. You know very well what money.¡± ¡°No, I really don¡¯t,¡± Maluck said. Well, okay, he did, but this was fun. ¡°You¡¯ve got nine grand on you that belongs to a friend of ours,¡± the first biker said. ¡°We¡¯re here to pick it up.¡± Maluck whistled. ¡°Wow, you guys are really good friends. He trusts you to take all nine grand?¡± The two bikers exchanged grins. ¡°Well,¡± one of them said, ¡°he also said there might be another nine in it for us.¡± Maluck feigned a look of deep concern. ¡°But that¡¯s my money. How could I possibly give it to you?¡± The two bikers pulled out motorcycle utensils¡ªor, as normal people called them, weapons¡ªa tire iron and a chain. ¡°Well,¡± the first one said, smirking, ¡°we¡¯re not really asking, are we?¡± Maluck had to stop himself from cheering. ¡®Thank fucking God. Do these guys have any idea how hard it¡¯s been?¡¯ A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. The biker narrowed his eyes. ¡°What are you smiling at?¡± Maluck held up his book. ¡°You know what I¡¯m thinking about?¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Not celibacy.¡± And with that, he whipped the hardcover book directly at the biker¡¯s face. If they had been wearing full-face helmets, this would have done absolutely nothing. But bikers being bikers, their chopper-riding, tough-guy aesthetic demanded that they only wear those little skullcap helmets¡ªwhich did jack shit to stop the spine of a book from slamming into an unprotected nose. CRUNCH. The first biker hit the ground, clutching his face. ¡°MY NOBESSS!¡± Maluck looked down at his book. It was now covered in blood. Fantastic. Celibacy had finally done something useful. He turned to the second biker, who was just staring at him in absolute shock. Guys who dressed like Maluck¡ªkhakis, polo shirts, holding what looked like a children¡¯s book¡ªdid not usually fight back. The biker snapped out of it. Didn¡¯t matter how this guy was different ¡ªhe had a fucking tire iron. He swung. Maluck dodged. His Hand-to-Hand Combat: Good and Fitness Level: Above Average skills kicked in immediately. Stronger than he looked, quick enough to react, and most importantly¡ª Improvisation Skill Unlocked: Garbage Combat Oh, this was about to be fun. Maluck yelled, ¡°Do you have any idea how hard it is to have nothing but pure thoughts when you have a hot goth girlfriend and a giant bed in your room?!¡± The biker barely had time to register what was happening. Confusion flickered across his face, but that didn¡¯t matter¡ªbecause right after dodging the tire iron, Maluck grabbed him and launched him into the park bench. CRUNK! The wood and metal structure crunched as it met the biker¡¯s knee. Maluck, fully embracing his Improvised Garbage Combat skill, treated the bench like a solid, immovable piece of street trash¡ªa perfect weapon. Which was ironic, considering he had just thrown a pile of human trash into another pile of actual trash. ¡°Ow!¡± groaned the first biker, trying to push himself off the bench. Maluck wasn¡¯t done. ¡°And do you know how hard it is to walk around dressing like this without getting made fun of?!¡± he bellowed, gesturing at his khakis and blue polo, as if they were a symbol of tremendous suffering. Before the guy could respond, Maluck jumped up and brought his foot down on the biker¡¯s knee. CRACK! Yeah. That knee was done. The guy let out an agonized scream. ¡°AARRGHH!¡± Maluck wasn¡¯t finished. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°And finally¡ªdo you have any idea how much I want a coffee or a beer right now? Maybe both!?¡± The biker, now absolutely terrified, shook his head. ¡°I-I don¡¯t know¡ª¡± Maluck grabbed him by his greasy hair and slammed his face into the bench. BANG!!! ¡°A LOT,¡± Maluck growled. BANG ¡°A FUCKING lot.¡± BANG ¡°So THANK YOU for showing up right now, you two were a great help!¡± The guy didn¡¯t even have the decency to say, ¡°you¡¯re welcome¡± due to him passing out cold. Rude. His friend, the one still dealing with a very broken nose, was now scuttling backward on his ass like a crab, eyes wide with horror. Maluck had just wrecked his buddy¡ªwhat the fuck was he supposed to do against that? Unfortunately for him, Maluck had already made up his mind. He approached, and without a word, delivered a straight kick to the guy¡¯s face. WHAM! The biker¡¯s head snapped back, his body going limp as he joined his unconscious friend in dreamland. Maluck had made sure not to kick hard enough to break his neck, but definitely hard enough to keep him down for a long time. And just like that, it was over. After tonight¡¯s fight, these two would never¡ªever¡ªmess with a guy in a blue polo and khakis again. Because now they understood just how much unrestrained rage and frustration could be hiding underneath such a painfully suburban outfit. But that¡¯s a story for another time. *** [System Task Complete] HURT THESE FUCKERS +0.01 Strength +0.01 Dexterity +0.02 Health (BONUS : They really regret their choice of stopping you) +.01 Endurance for an absolutely awesome asskicking *** CHAPTER 50 Maluck came down off his adrenaline high, stretching his arms with a satisfied sigh. ¡®Damn, that was a fun fight.¡¯ Now, for the best part¡ªlooting. Like any good RPG player, he knew the golden rule: Once you defeat the spawns, you gotta loot ¡®em. He rifled through their bags and pockets, pulling out a solid haul. ?Cash: $805 in bills. Nice. ?Weapons: The tire iron and chain went straight into the backseat of his car. Never knew when those would come in handy. ?Drugs: He poured those out onto the ground. Not interested. He figured these guys probably wouldn¡¯t need them either¡­ for a long while. ?The real treasure? A two-six of really good rum. Maluck held the bottle up, inspecting it. Damn. These bikers roll in style. He glanced at his timer. Three hours left. He gave the bottle a long, meaningful look. The kind of look that said, I¡¯ve got a date with you soon, baby. Then, with all the care in the world, he placed it gently in the passenger seat of his car. Because hey, you always treat your dates right. With the looting done, he picked up his now bloodstained copy of ¡®Waiting is Cool!¡± He still had to read 50 pages for his task. Then he sat down on the same park bench he had just used as a weapon and started reading. ¡­He actually read 56 pages. Because, honestly? He wanted to see what happened to that little Ice Cube mascot. Turns out, the little guy had a pretty good life after all. And you know what? Waiting really is cool. Maluck smiled. Book: Done. Looting: Done. Two tasks down. Now all he had to do was wait another two and a half hours. If only he hadsome way of passing the time. That¡¯s when he heard a phone ring. *** The phone ringing caught Maluck off guard. Mainly because: 1.His own phone was busted. Thanks, Bad Luck Points. 2.The ringtone was¡­ ¡°Mediocre to the Bone.¡± Classic. He figured, ¡®Hey, I¡¯ve got time to kill,¡¯ and followed the sound. Ah. There it was, in the vest pocket of Biker #1¡ªaka Flatnose. Maluck fished the phone out, used Flatnose¡¯s very unconscious thumb to unlock it, and answered. ¡°Hello? Is this Checkers Pizza? I¡¯ve been waiting over an hour.¡± There was a pause, then a very angry voice on the other end. ¡°Who the fuck is this?¡± Maluck frowned. ¡°Who am I? You called me.¡± ¡°Where¡¯s John?¡± the voice demanded. Maluck glanced down at the two human-shaped piles of regret in front of him. ¡°Is that the guy with the smashed nose, or the guy with the broken knee? ¡®Cause either way, neither one of them are getting any pizza.¡± ¡°What pizza?¡± the guy on the phone barked. Maluck sighed. ¡°Wait, you¡¯re not Checkers Pizza? Then why are you even calling me? It¡¯s been almost 30 minutes¡ªmy pizza should be free, right?¡± The guy on the phone growled, ¡°I don¡¯t know who you are, but I will find you.¡± Maluck snorted. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s an easy task. The phone¡¯s still on. Go ahead and hit ¡®ping.¡¯ You¡¯ll find me real quick.¡± ¡°You hold on right there, asshole,¡± the voice spat. ¡°I¡¯ll do just that.¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°Great. While I¡¯m on hold, are you at least gonna put on some music? Maybe some smooth jazz?¡± Silence. ¡®Rude.¡¯ *** The guy came back on the line, his voice dripping with smugness. ¡°I¡¯ve got you now, fucker.¡± Maluck sighed. ¡°Seriously? You make it sound like that was hard. I¡¯m literally sitting here with the phone open, waiting for you to show up.¡± The guy hesitated. ¡°Yeah, well¡­ we¡¯re coming.¡± ¡°Great,¡± Maluck said. ¡°But don¡¯t forget one thing.¡± ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°Bring the pizza.¡± A dial tone would¡¯ve been appropriate here. Instead, there was just awkward, empty silence. Whatever. He estimated he had about thirty minutes to kill before company arrived. And he was right. Right on schedule, thirty five minutes later, the loud sound of a lot of bikes filled the air. At least eight. Maluck grinned. ¡®Awesome. My kind of party.¡¯ And at the front of the gang? Yeah. Ron¡¯s buddy. Sasquatch. ¡®Or¡­ Bigfoot? Still not sure.¡¯ The massive man stomped forward, his scowl set to maximum intimidation. ¡°Hey. Where¡¯s my guys?¡± Maluck looked at him like he¡¯d just asked where the sky was. ¡°Are you blind as well as stupid and ugly?¡± Bigfoot¡ªor whatever his name was¡ªdidn¡¯t respond. His brain clearly wasn¡¯t built for verbal combat. Instead, his beady eyes scanned the park. Yeah, there they were. Two very broken, very unconscious bikers crumpled on the ground. Bigfoot¡¯s jaw clenched. He had already lost this battle of wits, so instead of humiliating himself further, he went for the default dumbass solution. He pointed straight at Maluck and barked, ¡°Fuck him up!¡± *** Maluck wasn¡¯t stupid. He hadn¡¯t spent the last thirty minutes just twiddling his thumbs and thinking about chastity and purity like some kind of monk. No. He¡¯d been preparing. As soon as the gang rolled up, he pulled out the chain from earlier and started whipping it around, testing its weight. It made a satisfying whoosh with every spin. Still¡­ 8-on-1. It¡¯d be great if he was some unstoppable kung fu master, but reality was a thing, and reality said: Hand-to-Hand Combat: Good. Not excellent. Not legendary. Just good. So, no. He wasn¡¯t about to take down eight bikers with nothing but a chain and moxie. What he could do? Run. Because here¡¯s the thing about bikers: They bike. They didn¡¯t ride those massive, chrome-covered choppers because they liked running. And while Maluck didn¡¯t like running either¡­ at least he did it every day. To train for situations just like this. *** He didn¡¯t run far. Because those beautiful chrome-covered choppers were just calling to him. Oh, he wasn¡¯t about to jump on one for some epic 80s-style motorcycle chase. No, no, no. That would require actual motorcycle skills, and his Piloting (Vehicles): Average rating meant that would end with him eating asphalt. What he was going to do? Something better. He zeroed in on the nearest bike, took a breath, and¡ª BAM! ¡ªfull-body tackled it like a goddamn linebacker. Now, the thing about bikers? They had a habit of parking their bikes way too close together, like some medieval cavalry preparing for battle. Which meant¡­ CLUNK! CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK! The bikes toppled like dominoes. A symphony of shiny metal hitting pavement. Seeing that, the pursuing bikers screamed in pure agony. ¡°MY BIKE!¡± ¡°YOU SON OF A BITCH!¡± Maluck? He just grinned. *** The rage fueled them. Their leather-clad, vest-wearing bodies surged forward, chasing him with the single-minded fury of men who had just watched their precious vehicular babies hit the pavement. Maluck, at this point, actually turned around¡ªwhich was probably the last thing they expected. And the frontrunners? The two guys leading the charge? Yeah, they both caught a nice, fat chain to the face. CRACK! CRACK! For some reason, they had never actually thought about what would happen if they caught him. They were like dogs chasing trucks¡ªso focused on the chase that they never once considered what came after. And just like that, they met the exact same fate as every dog that finally catches the truck. THUMP! THUMP! Straight on their asses. *** The other six, including Bigfoot, decided to slow down, regrouping instead of blindly charging in like their downed buddies. Smart. They were trying to circle him. ¡°Good thought!¡± Maluck yelled. ¡°You gotta make sure you catch me in a circle, otherwise I¡¯m gonna get through. It¡¯s like playing a game of duck-duck-goose!¡± He kept moving, weaving, watching. There was one big advantage to being one guy against six. He only had to look for weak links¡ªwho was actually coordinating, and who was just here to throw punches and look tough. Most of these guys fought in bars, where close combat worked in their favor. Where tight numbers meant you could swarm someone and end a fight fast. Out here? In the open, where footwork and actual coordination mattered? Not so much. Maluck whipped around the edge of the circle, swinging his chain menacingly at one of the bikers. The guy flinched back¡ªhe didn¡¯t get hit, but that wasn¡¯t the point. Because in that split second of hesitation? Maluck booked it. Right out of their attempted encirclement. His Hand-to-Hand Combat was, again, good. Not excellent. Not legendary. Just good. But you know what was excellent? Tactics & Strategy. And here¡¯s the thing about tactics¡ªit wasn¡¯t just about moving armies or commanding squads. Even in street fights, tactics mattered. Maluck kept moving, forcing them to chase. Now? It was a game of endurance. Who would tire out first? Maluck, who trained every day, or these bikers, who spent their time drinking beer, revving engines, and riding instead of running? Endurance (End): 1.08 might not have seemed like much, but out here? It wasn¡¯t a joke. He couldn¡¯t see their stat sheets, but he could see the huffing and puffing. These guys were already starting to slow down, their breaths coming in heavy gasps. It was like watching a bunch of little engines that couldn¡¯t. Maluck glanced over his shoulder, spotting one of them already wiping sweat from his brow, the others trailing just behind. As they slowed down, Maluck matched their pace. He didn¡¯t want them giving up and running back to their bikes. That would be very bad for him. But his running wasn¡¯t random or aimless. He¡¯d been steering them toward a construction site¡ªor, more accurately, a half-built, probably abandoned building. It was a chaotic mess of concrete, pits, and bad city planning. Exactly the kind of terrain advantage he needed. When he got close, he yelled back at them. ¡°Hey, fuckers! Seriously, I¡¯m about to escape. Aren¡¯t you gonna run a little faster?¡± Anger flared in their eyes. And like idiots, they sped up again, temporarily forgetting their pack tactics in favor of pure rage. Which was great¡ªbecause the second they charged into the construction site¡­ CRACK! CRACK! Two of them stepped directly into potholes. SNAP. ¡°AHH! MY ANKLE!¡± They hit the ground hard. Now, only four were left standing. The remaining bikers glanced down at their fallen comrades and, instead of realizing the obvious trap, just assumed they were idiots. What they hadn¡¯t realized was that Maluck had long planned for this. He had 30 whole minutes while waiting for them to show up. One minute? Pulling out the chain. The other 29? Setting up mini pit traps using his Improvised Weapons skill. Maluck ducked under a low beam, and as soon as the four bikers ran in after him¡ªBANG! He spun around and smashed the beam with his chain. What looked like a solid, secured beam was actually precariously balanced. A mass of rebar and steel came crashing down, right in the bikers¡¯ path. CRUNK! Two of them managed to dive out of the way. The other two? Pinned. ¡°FUCK, I¡¯M STUCK!¡± one of them yelled. Maluck dusted off his hands, grinning. Two down, two to go. And with that, Maluck turned around, grinning. CHAPTER 50 Maluck came down off his adrenaline high, stretching his arms with a satisfied sigh. ¡®Damn, that was a fun fight.¡¯ Now, for the best part¡ªlooting. Like any good RPG player, he knew the golden rule: Once you defeat the spawns, you gotta loot ¡®em. He rifled through their bags and pockets, pulling out a solid haul. Maluck held the bottle up, inspecting it. Damn. These bikers roll in style. He glanced at his timer. Three hours left. He gave the bottle a long, meaningful look. The kind of look that said, I¡¯ve got a date with you soon, baby. Then, with all the care in the world, he placed it gently in the passenger seat of his car. Because hey, you always treat your dates right. With the looting done, he picked up his now bloodstained copy of ¡®Waiting is Cool!¡± He still had to read 50 pages for his task. Then he sat down on the same park bench he had just used as a weapon and started reading. ¡­He actually read 56 pages. Because, honestly? He wanted to see what happened to that little Ice Cube mascot. Turns out, the little guy had a pretty good life after all. And you know what? Waiting really is cool. Maluck smiled. Book: Done. Looting: Done. Two tasks down. Now all he had to do was wait another two and a half hours. If only he hadsome way of passing the time. That¡¯s when he heard a phone ring. *** The phone ringing caught Maluck off guard. Mainly because:
  1. His own phone was busted. Thanks, Bad Luck Points.
  2. The ringtone was¡­ ¡°Mediocre to the Bone.¡±
Classic. He figured, ¡®Hey, I¡¯ve got time to kill,¡¯ and followed the sound. Ah. There it was, in the vest pocket of Biker #1¡ªaka Flatnose. Maluck fished the phone out, used Flatnose¡¯s very unconscious thumb to unlock it, and answered. ¡°Hello? Is this Checkers Pizza? I¡¯ve been waiting over an hour.¡± There was a pause, then a very angry voice on the other end. ¡°Who the fuck is this?¡± Maluck frowned. ¡°Who am I? You called me.¡± ¡°Where¡¯s John?¡± the voice demanded. Maluck glanced down at the two human-shaped piles of regret in front of him. ¡°Is that the guy with the smashed nose, or the guy with the broken knee? ¡®Cause either way, neither one of them are getting any pizza.¡± ¡°What pizza?¡± the guy on the phone barked. Maluck sighed. ¡°Wait, you¡¯re not Checkers Pizza? Then why are you even calling me? It¡¯s been almost 30 minutes¡ªmy pizza should be free, right?¡± The guy on the phone growled, ¡°I don¡¯t know who you are, but I will find you.¡± Maluck snorted. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s an easy task. The phone¡¯s still on. Go ahead and hit ¡®ping.¡¯ You¡¯ll find me real quick.¡± ¡°You hold on right there, asshole,¡± the voice spat. ¡°I¡¯ll do just that.¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°Great. While I¡¯m on hold, are you at least gonna put on some music? Maybe some smooth jazz?¡± Silence. ¡®Rude.¡¯ *** The guy came back on the line, his voice dripping with smugness. ¡°I¡¯ve got you now, fucker.¡± Maluck sighed. ¡°Seriously? You make it sound like that was hard. I¡¯m literally sitting here with the phone open, waiting for you to show up.¡± The guy hesitated. ¡°Yeah, well¡­ we¡¯re coming.¡± ¡°Great,¡± Maluck said. ¡°But don¡¯t forget one thing.¡± ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°Bring the pizza.¡± A dial tone would¡¯ve been appropriate here. Instead, there was just awkward, empty silence. Whatever. He estimated he had about thirty minutes to kill before company arrived. And he was right. Right on schedule, thirty five minutes later, the loud sound of a lot of bikes filled the air. At least eight. Maluck grinned. ¡®Awesome. My kind of party.¡¯ And at the front of the gang? Yeah. Ron¡¯s buddy. Sasquatch. ¡®Or¡­ Bigfoot? Still not sure.¡¯ The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The massive man stomped forward, his scowl set to maximum intimidation. ¡°Hey. Where¡¯s my guys?¡± Maluck looked at him like he¡¯d just asked where the sky was. ¡°Are you blind as well as stupid and ugly?¡± Bigfoot¡ªor whatever his name was¡ªdidn¡¯t respond. His brain clearly wasn¡¯t built for verbal combat. Instead, his beady eyes scanned the park. Yeah, there they were. Two very broken, very unconscious bikers crumpled on the ground. Bigfoot¡¯s jaw clenched. He had already lost this battle of wits, so instead of humiliating himself further, he went for the default dumbass solution. He pointed straight at Maluck and barked, ¡°Fuck him up!¡± *** Maluck wasn¡¯t stupid. He hadn¡¯t spent the last thirty minutes just twiddling his thumbs and thinking about chastity and purity like some kind of monk. No. He¡¯d been preparing. As soon as the gang rolled up, he pulled out the chain from earlier and started whipping it around, testing its weight. It made a satisfying whoosh with every spin. Still¡­ 8-on-1. It¡¯d be great if he was some unstoppable kung fu master, but reality was a thing, and reality said: Hand-to-Hand Combat: Good. Not excellent. Not legendary. Just good. So, no. He wasn¡¯t about to take down eight bikers with nothing but a chain and moxie. What he could do? Run. Because here¡¯s the thing about bikers: They bike. They didn¡¯t ride those massive, chrome-covered choppers because they liked running. And while Maluck didn¡¯t like running either¡­ at least he did it every day. To train for situations just like this. *** He didn¡¯t run far. Because those beautiful chrome-covered choppers were just calling to him. Oh, he wasn¡¯t about to jump on one for some epic 80s-style motorcycle chase. No, no, no. That would require actual motorcycle skills, and his Piloting (Vehicles): Average rating meant that would end with him eating asphalt. What he was going to do? Something better. He zeroed in on the nearest bike, took a breath, and¡ª BAM! ¡ªfull-body tackled it like a goddamn linebacker. Now, the thing about bikers? They had a habit of parking their bikes way too close together, like some medieval cavalry preparing for battle. Which meant¡­ CLUNK! CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK! The bikes toppled like dominoes. A symphony of shiny metal hitting pavement. Seeing that, the pursuing bikers screamed in pure agony. ¡°MY BIKE!¡± ¡°YOU SON OF A BITCH!¡± Maluck? He just grinned. *** The rage fueled them. Their leather-clad, vest-wearing bodies surged forward, chasing him with the single-minded fury of men who had just watched their precious vehicular babies hit the pavement. Maluck, at this point, actually turned around¡ªwhich was probably the last thing they expected. And the frontrunners? The two guys leading the charge? Yeah, they both caught a nice, fat chain to the face. CRACK! CRACK! For some reason, they had never actually thought about what would happen if they caught him. They were like dogs chasing trucks¡ªso focused on the chase that they never once considered what came after. And just like that, they met the exact same fate as every dog that finally catches the truck. THUMP! THUMP! Straight on their asses. *** The other six, including Bigfoot, decided to slow down, regrouping instead of blindly charging in like their downed buddies. Smart. They were trying to circle him. ¡°Good thought!¡± Maluck yelled. ¡°You gotta make sure you catch me in a circle, otherwise I¡¯m gonna get through. It¡¯s like playing a game of duck-duck-goose!¡± He kept moving, weaving, watching. There was one big advantage to being one guy against six. He only had to look for weak links¡ªwho was actually coordinating, and who was just here to throw punches and look tough. Most of these guys fought in bars, where close combat worked in their favor. Where tight numbers meant you could swarm someone and end a fight fast. Out here? In the open, where footwork and actual coordination mattered? Not so much. Maluck whipped around the edge of the circle, swinging his chain menacingly at one of the bikers. The guy flinched back¡ªhe didn¡¯t get hit, but that wasn¡¯t the point. Because in that split second of hesitation? Maluck booked it. Right out of their attempted encirclement. His Hand-to-Hand Combat was, again, good. Not excellent. Not legendary. Just good. But you know what was excellent? Tactics & Strategy. And here¡¯s the thing about tactics¡ªit wasn¡¯t just about moving armies or commanding squads. Even in street fights, tactics mattered. Maluck kept moving, forcing them to chase. Now? It was a game of endurance. Who would tire out first? Maluck, who trained every day, or these bikers, who spent their time drinking beer, revving engines, and riding instead of running? Endurance (End): 1.08 might not have seemed like much, but out here? It wasn¡¯t a joke. He couldn¡¯t see their stat sheets, but he could see the huffing and puffing. These guys were already starting to slow down, their breaths coming in heavy gasps. It was like watching a bunch of little engines that couldn¡¯t. Maluck glanced over his shoulder, spotting one of them already wiping sweat from his brow, the others trailing just behind. As they slowed down, Maluck matched their pace. He didn¡¯t want them giving up and running back to their bikes. That would be very bad for him. But his running wasn¡¯t random or aimless. He¡¯d been steering them toward a construction site¡ªor, more accurately, a half-built, probably abandoned building. It was a chaotic mess of concrete, pits, and bad city planning. Exactly the kind of terrain advantage he needed. When he got close, he yelled back at them. ¡°Hey, fuckers! Seriously, I¡¯m about to escape. Aren¡¯t you gonna run a little faster?¡± Anger flared in their eyes. And like idiots, they sped up again, temporarily forgetting their pack tactics in favor of pure rage. Which was great¡ªbecause the second they charged into the construction site¡­ CRACK! CRACK! Two of them stepped directly into potholes. SNAP. ¡°AHH! MY ANKLE!¡± They hit the ground hard. Now, only four were left standing. The remaining bikers glanced down at their fallen comrades and, instead of realizing the obvious trap, just assumed they were idiots. What they hadn¡¯t realized was that Maluck had long planned for this. He had 30 whole minutes while waiting for them to show up. One minute? Pulling out the chain. The other 29? Setting up mini pit traps using his Improvised Weapons skill. Maluck ducked under a low beam, and as soon as the four bikers ran in after him¡ªBANG! He spun around and smashed the beam with his chain. What looked like a solid, secured beam was actually precariously balanced. A mass of rebar and steel came crashing down, right in the bikers¡¯ path. CRUNK! Two of them managed to dive out of the way. The other two? Pinned. ¡°FUCK, I¡¯M STUCK!¡± one of them yelled. Maluck dusted off his hands, grinning. Two down, two to go. And with that, Maluck turned around, grinning. *** CHAPTER 51 ¡°Two on one? We all know how that turned out just 30 minutes ago.¡± Maluck said sarcastically. One of them, though, was Bigfoot¡ªand he was a big guy. Which, again, was exactly why Maluck called him that. Bigfoot swung a tire iron. Maluck swung his chain. The chain wrapped around the iron, coiling tight¡ªand with a sharp yank, he ripped the weapon out of Bigfoot¡¯s hand. For a brief second, Bigfoot looked surprised. But that surprised look didn¡¯t last long. Because the chain didn¡¯t stop moving. It continued its arc, coming right back around and¡ª WHAM! ¡ªslamming its steely kiss into his surprised face. Three teeth cracked. His head snapped back. Now his face was more pi?ata than surprised. But, to be fair, Sasquatch was tough. He spit out the teeth and charged. Tried to close the distance, get into hand-to-hand range. Maluck danced back, snapping the chain forward again. This time, just a quick flick¡ªnot a full attack, just enough to sting and stop his rush. CRACK! Bigfoot flinched. Maluck stepped back again¡ªthen snapped the chain once more, this time low. CRACK! Right to the knee. Not enough to break it¡ªbut definitely hurt, The thing about fighting big guys like Sasquatch? They could take a pounding. But as long as you kept your endurance up and kept hitting them, they were just sandbags. And when was the last time you heard about someone getting taken down by a sandbag swinging back and forth? ¡­Exactly. The other guy tried to jump in and help, but in reality? He was less helpful than if he had just stood still and cheered from the sidelines. See, if two uncoordinated guys tried to fight a tactician like Maluck, all they really did was help him out. Every time the second guy rushed in, Maluck would maneuver him right in front of Sasquatch, slowing Bigfoot down¡ªand making sure neither of them could attack him properly. And every single time that happened? Another painful chain strike landed. CRACK! WHIP! Rinse and repeat. Bigfoot went down first. But honestly? It was a photo finish. Because the second guy¡ªlet¡¯s just call him Littlefoot¡ªhit the ground a second later. One big thud, one slightly smaller thud¡ªboth out cold. Now, once again, it was loot time. Well¡­ not quite. There were still a couple of bikers hobbling around with busted ankles or pinned under rebar, groaning in pain. Maluck could have let them go. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. But that would be stupid. Something some kind of wannabe hero would do. And right on cue, a System Task popped up. [System Task:] They¡¯ve had enough. It¡¯s time to show restraint and forgiveness. Bonus: +0.02 Wisdom Maluck looked at the task. Then he looked at that juicy +0.02 Wisdom. He actually considered it for a couple of seconds. And then¡ª ¡°Nope.¡± He hit NO. Yeah, he regretted missing out on those Wisdom points¡­ But he refused to be a bitch to the system. What was funny was that right after he hit NO on the System task¡­ A new System Task popped up. This one? [System Task:] FUCK ¡®EM UP. MAKE THEM REGRET IT. Bonus: +0.02 Strength This one? Maluck automatically accepted and hit YES without hesitation. ¡®Hell, if he was gonna mess them up anyway, and the System was actually encouraging it, why wouldn¡¯t he take the deal?¡¯ At this point, he was pretty sure the System was completely cuckoo for Koko Puffs¡ªbecause these two tasks were the exact opposite of each other. First, it was all ¡°Show restraint and forgiveness.¡± And now it was just ¡°FUCK ¡®EM UP.¡± Absolutely no consistency. But hey¡ªhe still got one of them. And that was good enough for him. *** It didn¡¯t take long to finish off these little wounded bunnies. They were already down, already struggling¡ªall Maluck had to do was make sure they regretted everything. And just like that, the system dinged. [System Task Complete!] FUCK ¡®EM UP. MAKE THEM REGRET IT. Bonus: +0.02 Strength EXTRA BONUS: For previous 8-1 fight and turning down ¡°forgiveness and restraint¡± task Maluck grinned. That was more like it. *** POV : Astral Universe In the Astral Universe, a whole bunch of Sins were high-fiving each other. It was rare that they got to issue an opposing System task.. And it was even rarer when their champion chose them over the goody-goody Virtues. Somewhere in a different part of the Astral Universe, Patience was sulking. Meanwhile, Wrath, Lust, Gluttony and even Envy were celebrating like their team just won the championship. ¡°Hell yeah!¡± Wrath bellowed, slamming a large fist into Gluttony¡¯s chubby palm. ¡°Did you see that?¡± Lust cackled. ¡°He didn¡¯t even hesitate! Patience got wrecked!¡± Envy smirked. ¡°And that¡¯s why we picked Maluck as our shared champion.¡± Because, at the end of the day? He was one of them. *** POV : Calgary With all of them down for the count, it was time for the best part of his day. More looting spawns. And this time? There was even a fallen boss monster in the mix. So, naturally, he looted Bigfoot first. Among all the cash, trinkets, and general biker garbage he pulled out of their vest pockets and wallets, a few things made him smile in appreciation. ?$3020 and a couple of collector¡¯s coins. He had no idea how much they were worth, but he wasn¡¯t about to waste time Skewesearching that. There would¡¯ve been even more, but when the bikes tipped over? Yeah, some bottles had smashed. ?Drugs. Yep. Straight into the ground. ?Weapons. More tire irons and chains¡ªwhich he really didn¡¯t need more of. But honestly? He was glad this fight happened in Canada and not the U.S. If this had been America, these guys would¡¯ve been packing heat. Here? Guns were way harder to get, even for outlaw biker types. Sure, they might¡¯ve had a couple of shotguns strapped to their bikes sometimes, but not today. Riding around with visible shotguns on a chopper was a surefire way to get pulled over immediately. And with all the loot gathered? It was time to celebrate. Because not only did he get the loot¡­ Time was up. [System Task Assigned: Mega Purity Challenge, COMPLETE!] Task 1: Watch an Entire Documentary About Celibacy ?Objective: Sit through a full-length film about why people choose celibacy and reflect on its wisdom. ?Success Condition: Watch the whole thing and actually pay attention. +8 LP Task 2: Read a Book That Promotes Virtue and Restraint ?Objective: Read at least 50 pages of a book that reinforces self-discipline and moral purity. ?Success Condition: Actually read it. +8 LP Task 3: Avoid Alcohol, Caffeine, and Other ¡®Earthly Indulgences¡¯ for a Day ?Success Condition: Successfully survive a day. +15 LP He celebrated! Pulling out the bottle of rum from his car he had a big swig, yeah he could have chosen one of the new bottles, but he had promised the rum first! Never leave your original date hanging. Even when 3 more beauties arrive. He had a quick look at his stat sheet. Normally he only looked at it in the morning, but today? It seemed warranted. STATS Luck Level: 2 (0/200) Unfortunate ¨C Your toast lands butter-side down. On your last clean shirt. Bad Luck Points (BP) 129 Luck points (LP) 43 Strength (Str): 1.10 Intelligence (Int): 1.28 Charisma (Cha): 1.02 Health (HP): 1.01 Dexterity (Dex): 1.03 Wisdom (Wis): 1.12 Constitution (Con): 1.02 Endurance (End): 1.18 Perception (Per): 1.14 Cash: $224,500 (Cash + Bank) Roll of cash = $22,203 Visex bill = $12,075 1982 Penny $100,000 roughly Unknown Bigfoot Coins ? INVENTORY Bad luck Bracelet The Probability Charm ¨C While wearing it, any event you want to happen gets a 10% boost in probability. Stacks with other Luck items. Every time you use your Probability Charm, your LP goes down¡ªregardless of whether you win or lose. The Luck Siphon Stone ¨C When touched to someone, it sucks off their luck and adds it to your own. (Recharged) The Appraiser¡¯s Lens ¨C A device that spots hidden value and potential in objects, investments¡­ and even people. (Recharging) The Lucky Watch ¨C Time always seems to be on your side while wearing it. Never late, never too early. Fortune Tuner (25 LP Per Use) : A strange, mechanical device designed to adjust luck, transforming bad luck into good luck. One of the biggest gains Maluck loved from all this? His Health was now over 1.00. That meant he was officially above average¡ªand now, none of his stats were below that baseline. If things kept going like this¡­ Becoming a superhero wasn¡¯t out of the picture. But even more importantly? He finally had enough Luck Points to use on the Fortune Tuner. And with his Bad Luck Points stacking up dangerously high¡­ He wasn¡¯t about to wait any longer. He used 25 Luck Points to activate the Fortune Tuner. Bad Luck Points (BP) 0 Luck points (LP) 82 ¡®Ahhhhhhhh! Sweeeeet! Zero BP!¡¯ He might not have thought about it during the fight, but there were definitely a few times he had almost face planted while stepping on what seemed like normal ground. Now it was time to go home, and let Chloe know about his day. Or at least as much as he could tell her, without revealing the System. CHAPTER 52 Leaving the pile of biker trash behind, Maluck hopped into his car and drove back to the hotel, feeling pretty damn satisfied with himself. The night had been productive. He had more cash, no Bad Luck points, and a well-earned appetite. But the second he stepped into the hotel room, he was immediately met with an extremely anxious Chloe. Arms crossed. Brow furrowed. Eyes full of suspicion. The moment she saw him, she blurted out, ¡°Where the hell have you been all day?!¡± Then, without even waiting for an answer, she took a step back, scanned him head to toe, and added, ¡°And why do you look like a Good Buy employee who just got done murdering someone?¡± Maluck glanced down at himself. Yep. Still in khakis and a polo. Still splattered in dried blood. He looked back up at her, cleared his throat, and said, ¡°Uh¡­ well, that¡¯s a long story. And I¡¯m starving as hell, so how about I explain after we order room service?¡± Chloe stared at him for a second, then sighed heavily. She was still mad¡ªbut she was also hungry. And honestly? The stress of not knowing where Maluck had been all day had already really killed her appetite. Now that he was back in one piece, it was finally time to eat. Maluck grabbed the room service menu and ordered like a man who had just beaten an entire gang of bikers with a chain and a bad attitude. A double ¡°King Burger¡± for himself, extra cheese, extra bacon. A side of chili cheese fries, double loaded. A strawberry milkshake, because he deserved it. Chloe, by contrast, ordered a normal human portion. A single burger. Onion rings. A very judgmental stare. Maluck couldn¡¯t help but grin. She may not have gone overboard with the food, but the stare? That one was a masterclass in judgment. He was impressed. As Maluck placed the order, Chloe squinted at him. ¡°Seriously. What the hell happened to you today?¡± He sat down on the bed, grinning. ¡°Okay, so picture this¡ª¡± BANG BANG BANG. Before he could even start, there was a knock at the door. ¡°Room service?¡± Chloe asked, confused. Maluck frowned. ¡°That was way too fast.¡± They exchanged a glance. Then, Maluck cracked his knuckles and sighed. ¡°Alright. New plan. I¡¯ll tell you over dinner, but first, let¡¯s see who else wants to ruin my night.¡± Because at this point? He was pretty sure trouble had his room number on speed dial. *** Maluck and Chloe stared at the door. The knocking had been way too fast for room service. Chloe frowned. ¡°Uh¡­ you sure you didn¡¯t order a side of trouble with your burger?¡± Maluck sighed, rolling his shoulders. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t be the first time.¡± BANG BANG BANG. The knocking came again, harder this time. Maluck glanced at Chloe. ¡°Stay back.¡± She crossed her arms. ¡°Oh sure, yeah, let me just cower in fear while you handle it, Big Man.¡± Maluck grinned. ¡°Appreciate the support.¡± He approached the door, but instead of just opening it like an idiot, he leaned in and asked, ¡°Who is it?¡± There was a long pause. Then, a deep, gruff voice said, ¡°Your pizza delivery.¡± Maluck blinked. ¡°¡­I didn¡¯t order a pizza.¡± Another pause. ¡°.. errr yeah you did a Checkers pizza, and it¡¯s been over 30 minutes, so it¡¯s free.¡± This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Chloe scoffed. ¡°Oh, well, in that case, let¡¯s definitely open the door for sketchy surprise pizza.¡± Maluck smirked. ¡°Yeah, see, now I know exactly who this is.¡± He swung the door open. And standing outside? Three big, burly guys in leather jackets, looking extremely annoyed. One of them was holding his nose, which was definitely broken. Another was limping. The last one? A new one, a stranger. And, he was holding a plastic bag from a liquor store. Maluck leaned against the doorframe. ¡°Well, well, well. What do we have here? Three very sad-looking dudes, and one of them actually brought drinks. How polite.¡± The guy in the middle¡ªBroken Nose Guy¡ªgritted his teeth. ¡°We neeb to tulk.¡± Maluck raised an eyebrow. ¡°Talk, huh? See, I feel like if I step into that hallway, we¡¯re gonna do a lot less talking and a lot more bleeding.¡± The limping guy groaned. ¡°Look, we¡¯re not here to fight.¡± ¡°Could¡¯ve fooled me.¡± Maluck crossed his arms. ¡°So what do you want?¡± The guy with the liquor store bag held it up. ¡°Peace offering?¡± Maluck tilted his head. ¡°Booze?¡± ¡°Good booze,¡± the guy said. ¡°And an apology.¡± Chloe peeked over Maluck¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Wow. Did you actually beat the common sense into someone?¡± Maluck smirked. ¡°Looks like it.¡± Then he eyed the bottle. ¡°¡­Is that rum?¡± The guy nodded. ¡°Top shelf.¡± Maluck considered this. Then, with a sigh, he stepped aside. ¡°Fine. But if you guys mess up my King Burger experience, I swear to god, I¡¯ll finish what I started.¡± And with that, the three bruised and battered bikers entered the room. Because, honestly? Maluck was interested in what these guys had to say, and they had even brought apology booze. *** Maluck closed the door behind them, eyeing the three bikers like they might try something stupid at any moment. Chloe, on the other hand, flopped onto the hotel bed, crossing her legs as if this were a live show, and she was waiting for the drama to start. ¡°So,¡± she said, ¡°who the hell are these guys, and why do two of them look like they got dragged behind a truck?¡± The guy with the broken nose grumbled, ¡°Because we mide as well huv been.¡± Maluck just grinned, dropping onto the couch. ¡°Chloe, meet what¡¯s left of the Biker Brigade of Bad Decisions¡ªthe dumbasses who tried to jump me earlier.¡± Chloe¡¯s eyebrows shot up. ¡°Wait. These guys? This is why you¡¯re covered in blood?¡± Maluck gestured at them. ¡°Well, to be fair, most of the blood is theirs.¡± The guy holding the liquor bottle¡ªwho Maluck now mentally labeled Liquor Guy¡ªcleared his throat. ¡°Yeah, so, about that¡­ we might¡¯ve miscalculated a bit.¡± Chloe snorted. ¡°Oh? You think?¡± Maluck leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s hear it. What made you guys think it was a great idea to try and shake me down for money I obviously wasn¡¯t gonna give up?¡± Limping Guy sighed, rubbing his busted up knee. ¡°Look, we didn¡¯t know you were¡­¡± He paused, looking Maluck up and down. ¡°¡­whatever the hell you are.¡± ¡°A menace?¡± Chloe suggested. ¡°A problem?¡± Maluck offered. ¡°A walking headache?¡± Liquor Guy added. Maluck grinned. ¡°All of the above.¡± Liquor Guy shook his head. ¡°Anyway, Bigfoot¡ªer, Tom¡ªwas convinced you were just some rich dude that Ron was having issues with. And we kinda have a ¡®working relationship¡¯ with him. And, well¡­ let¡¯s just say¡­ we usually don¡¯t have problems with rich dudes.¡± Maluck chuckled. ¡°Yeah, well, you found one.¡± The limping guy¡ªLimpy, because Maluck wasn¡¯t in the mood for learning names¡ªcrossed his arms. ¡°Look, we¡¯re not here to start anything again. Honestly, after what happened, nobody in our crew wants to go another round with you. We get it. You¡¯re built different.¡± Maluck smirked. ¡°Damn right.¡± Liquor Guy set the bottle on the table. ¡°This is just¡­ a peace offering. Consider it our way of saying we¡¯re not coming after you anymore.¡± Maluck eyed the bottle. Top-shelf rum. Then he eyed the bikers. Still alive, no weapons, looking genuinely defeated. A system task popped up. [System Task:] True strength lies in knowing when to show mercy. Accepting their defeat with grace is the mark of a wise and honorable person. Temper your aggression, for restraint is just as powerful as action. Bonus: +0.05 Wisdom *** Maluck ignored the advice but looked at the huge .05 Wisdom reward and immediately hit YES with joy. What Maluck didn¡¯t know was that the Virtues had been watching. They had seen Patience get absolutely schooled when Maluck turned down the Virtue¡¯s task in favor of Wrath¡¯s ¡°fuck ¡®em up¡± special. And worse? They had seen Wrath give a bigger reward. That was not acceptable. If Maluck kept picking the Sins¡¯ tasks, it wouldn¡¯t be long before he was chugging whiskey with Greed, high-fiving Pride, and committing tax fraud with Envy. The Virtues needed to act. If his innate goodness wasn¡¯t going to be enough to keep him on their side¡­ Well. Bribery might do the trick. ¡°Fine,¡± he said, picking up the bottle and inspecting the label. ¡°But if you guys ever come after me again, I¡¯m keeping the next bottle AND breaking all of your knees.¡± Broken Nose Guy winced. ¡°Noded.¡± Chloe, meanwhile, was still watching the exchange like it was the best show she¡¯d seen all week. ¡°So¡­ you just traumatized an entire biker gang into giving you booze and leaving you alone?¡± Maluck popped the bottle open and poured himself a glass, then poured glasses for everyone in the room. The substantial bonus and the prospect of not having to watch out for random biker troubles were certainly reasons to celebrate. ¡°Yep.¡± She whistled. ¡°I knew you were a problem, but damn.¡± ¡°Alright, guys,¡± Maluck said, raising his glass. ¡°Let¡¯s drink a toast and celebrate the end of our¡­ ¡®misunderstandings.¡¯¡± Chloe smirked. ¡°Ah yes, the classic ¡®you tried to mug me, and I broke all your bones¡¯ misunderstanding.¡± Liquor Guy sighed, lifting his glass. ¡°Yeah¡­ big whoops on our part.¡± Broken Nose Guy grumbled, ¡°My face still hurts.¡± Limp Guy muttered, ¡°I misunderstand how I let myself get involved in this.¡± Maluck clinked his glass against theirs. ¡°Good, good. Keep misunderstanding things, and maybe I¡¯ll get another free bottle out of it.¡± They all drank. Because at this point, why the hell not? ¡°See, now I can finally relax,¡± he said, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. ¡°Good food, good drinks, and no problems.¡± BANG BANG BANG. Another knock at the door. Maluck groaned, rubbing his temples. Chloe just laughed. ¡°Oh, this is great. Who wants to ruin your night this time?¡± Maluck stood up, rolled his shoulders, and cracked his knuckles. ¡°Guess we¡¯re about to find out.¡±