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—essentially 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—DON’T distract me.”
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She turned back to the safe.
Maluck forced himself to breathe normally, but inside?
Pure celebration.
[System Notification] Task Completed.
Reward: 5 LP.
Wait—what?!
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—a 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—take 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—find 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.
