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—he literally had five grand freshly deposited in his bank and still had a couple thousand in cash—but 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!”
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
The clerk sighed. “Sir, it’s policy—”
“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—”
“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—which 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—not 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—hell no—but 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—not 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.
