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—new 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—aisles 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—miniature 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—veteran 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—like 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—‘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—he was about to be inducted into a fresh new squad.

  Life was about to get way more fun.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  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—

  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—and 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—it 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—and 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—wanna 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—rolling 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—it 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—his 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—the 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—a new System Task popped up.

  [System Task] A WAIT? FOR YOU? ABSOLUTELY NOT.

  YOU ROLLED UP HERE LIKE A KING—NOW 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.