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—Maluck 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—and 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—and 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 – Snap it in half, and your next wish comes true. Regenerates after a week.
(125 LP) The Jinx Jar – Can absorb bad luck when shaken. Must be emptied somewhere else or risk doubling the curse.
(100 LP) The Lucky Watch – 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—the idea of bottling up his cursed existence and dumping it somewhere else was hilarious—but knowing his luck, he’d forget to empty it and wake up to trip over air and break his own face.
Stolen novel; please report.
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—effortlessly, 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—well, 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—just 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—a 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—might 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—another $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—stashed $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—comfortably 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—his Appraiser’s Lens timer was ticking down. He was still hoping to get more use out of it today!
Two hours left.
Shit.
