Theo had several questions about this.
“Any particular brand?”
“Something that flies.”
“What about range?”
“Something that doesn’t crash into trees.”
“Night vision?”
“Do I look like a guy who wants a daytime drone?”
Theo sighed. “Fine. So, basically, you want the best drone available at an extremely vague budget.”
“Exactly,” Maluck said, nodding like this made perfect sense.
Theo, realizing that this was his life now, grabbed his coat and left to go spend an irresponsible amount of money.
After Theo handled that, Maluck put him on research duty, digging up whatever paperwork, layouts, or employee lists he could find.
Meanwhile, Maluck leaned back, plotting. His Piloting (Drones): Good skill meant he could easily case the lot from above, checking out exits, entry points, and blind spots—all the fun details Chloe would need for her break-in. Chloe, meanwhile, was deep in her own world.
She wasn’t just watching tutorial videos—she was studying. Practicing mental drills. Rehearsing movements. Double-checking her gear. This time, she wouldn’t have to rely on a paper roll or a coffee cup like some low-budget hack job. No, this time?
She was properly geared up.
It was honestly shocking how much she could get her hands on—especially when Maluck made a quick call to Liquor Guy from the biker gang.
“Hey,” Maluck said when Liquor Guy picked up. “You got a guy who sells lockpicks, tiny cameras, and other questionable shit?”
Liquor Guy barely hesitated. “You need high-quality stuff, or the ‘I found this on a sketchy website for twelve bucks’ variety?”
“High quality,” Maluck said. “Chloe’s got standards.”
Chloe, listening from across the room, raised an eyebrow.
“Oh,” Liquor Guy said, his tone changing. “You need the good stuff. Got it. I’ll make some calls.”
Because apparently, when you needed black-market burglary gear, your local criminal entrepreneur was one phone call away.
“How fast can we get the gear?” Maluck asked.
Liquor Guy hummed like he was checking his imaginary inventory. “90% of your list is pretty easy, if I replace some stuff that’s harder to get? Maybe an hour. Depends on how fast my guy moves.”
“Perfect. Bring it by my place.”
“You wanna pay him directly, or should I handle it?”
Maluck smirked. “Oh, I’ll pay you. No offense, but I like keeping my purchases neatly laundered through a middleman.”
Liquor Guy chuckled. “Smart man. No paper trail, no questions asked.”
“Exactly.”
“So where we meeting for you to pay me? I don’t like overdue bills, ya know?”
Maluck leaned back, stretching. “Silver Mirage. 10 p.m.”
Liquor Guy let out a low whistle. “Damn, you’re not messing around. That place is real shady.”
And it was.
The Silver Mirage was one of those casinos that looked just respectable enough on the outside to avoid getting shut down, but inside? Total sleazefest. The kind of place where high rollers, desperate gamblers, and people who absolutely should not be trusted with money all gathered under one roof.
The dealers were friendly but suspiciously fast, their hands moving like they had a personal vendetta against fair play. The security guards were massive, built like steroid injected concrete slabs with the same amount of neck flexibility.
And the biggest rule? Don’t ask too many questions.
If you won too much, you’d get a friendly reminder to take a break. If you owed money, well… you wouldn’t be gambling again anytime soon.
The Silver Mirage.
Where fortunes were made, debts were born, and bad decisions were always on the menu.
***
At around 6 p.m., there was a knock at the door. Knock, knock.
Maluck opened it to find his biker delivery service. This one was a thin, twitchy-looking guy, the kind who looked more like a meth enthusiast than a beer and whiskey type.
Without a word, the guy handed over the gear-wrapped package.
Maluck nodded. “Appreciate it.” He tossed him a twenty.
The biker squinted at it. “Man, this doesn’t even cover gas.”
It definitely would cover gas, and the biker definitely wasn’t planning to buy gas.
Maluck shrugged. “It wasn’t for gas. It was a tip for your outstanding customer service.”
The biker rolled his eyes and left, muttering under his breath.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
Maluck handed the package to Chloe, who immediately started sorting through the equipment. She tested the picks, checked the mini camera, and gave a satisfied nod.
“This is perfect.”
“Good,” Maluck said. “Now, I’m gonna have Cass give you a call to go over what we actually need to find.”
He connected the two of them, and Cassandra wasted no time.
“Okay, Chloe, here’s what I’m looking for. Specific forms, transaction records, anything that ties money movement to named people.”
Chloe groaned. “This is gonna be a pain in the ass. How am I supposed to recognize half of these forms? Can’t I just, like, steal everything and let you sort through it?”
Cass immediately shot that down. “No. Too risky. If anything goes missing, they’ll know something’s up. What you need to do is get copies of the right files, not wipe the whole cabinet clean.”
Chloe made a face but didn’t argue. “Fine, but there’s tons of filing cabinets. It’ll take forever.”
Cass thought for a second. “Wait, don’t you have a mini camera in that gear bag?”
Chloe checked. “Ohhh, yeah. You’re right. That would actually make things way easier.”
“Perfect,” Cass said. “Video call me while you’re in there, and I’ll tell you which ones to get copies of. Less guesswork, more efficiency.”
Maluck, who had been half-listening from the couch, suddenly perked up.
“This—” he gestured at her “—is exactly how good heists are done!”
Then, without warning, he started humming his own dramatic heist soundtrack.
“Dun, dun, dun, duh, da, dun, dunh, dun, dun…”
Chloe threw a pen at his head. Because of his bad luck, the pen exploded, making him look like half man, half blueberry.
“Blueberry Cop! Coming soon to a theater near you!”
***
It was 8 p.m, and that meant showtime.
Maluck, still with traces of ink on his face, turned to Chloe. “You ready?”
“You bet.”
With that, he fired up the Hellburst and drove to the dealership, where Dennis was already pacing in the lot, impatiently waiting. The second he saw the gleaming, growling muscle car roll up, his eyes lit up.
“Wow,” Dennis said, practically salivating. “I can see why you donated your other car.”
Maluck smirked. “That’s what happens when you win big. What I’ve got in my hand? Nothing compared to what I had before I bought this baby.”
Dennis gulped. His fingers twitched.
This was it.
This was the life he wanted. Stacks of cash. Flashy cars. The high roller lifestyle.
Without wasting another second, they peeled out of the lot in a burst of muscle car and machismo, tearing down the streets toward The Silver Mirage.
“Welcome to the Silver Mirage” was written in glowing neon. Tacky, but irresistible to desperate gamblers.
The place looked respectable on the outside—neon lights, a slick modern design, nothing too flashy.
Inside? Pure seediness.
Dennis practically vibrated with excitement as they walked in, eyes darting from table to table like a kid in a candy store.
Maluck peeled off $5,000 from his roll and handed Dennis $1,000.
“Here you go, bud.”
Dennis’s eyes flicked between the remaining fat roll in Maluck’s hand and the grand in his own. A thousand was a good start, sure—but there was more.
A lot more.
“What do you feel like playing?” Maluck asked casually.
Dennis licked his lips. “Roulette. Always been a roulette guy.”
Maluck’s grin widened. “Really? Me too.”
And just like that, they made their way to the roulette table.
The Plan? Lose.
But Maluck wasn’t here to win.
Oh no.
This time? He was here to lose.
And not just him.
Dennis too.
The real game wasn’t at the table. It was happening in Dennis’s head.
If Maluck could hook him in, keep him chasing the rush, empty his wallet, and keep him on the casino’s radar?
Well.
That would be step one of making him desperate.
Before he even touched a chip, Maluck sent a silent command.
“System, I’ve got a lot of Luck Points right now, and I don’t want to burn them. Toggle on bad luck accumulation. Don’t let it eat my Luck Points.”
He was used to switching this function on and off. When he didn’t want to risk bad luck—like when he was driving—he used Luck Points to shield himself. Other times, he let Bad Luck Points build up. He needed them for the Fortune Tuner.
Then, the System responded.
[System Response] You’ve got it, host. But understand this—what you’re doing isn’t just about numbers on a table. You’re knowingly leading a man down a path of self-destruction, feeding his worst impulses, and exploiting his weakness for your own gain. Is that truly the kind of person you want to be?
Maluck smirked. “Yeah, yeah. But since when has ‘nice’ ever gotten you ahead in life?”
Dennis slapped down his first bet, placing $100 on black.
Maluck mimicked him.
The dealer spun.
Red.
Dennis cursed.
Maluck sighed dramatically. And saw that his BP had dropped by from 29 to 28, because of the lost bet.
“Damn. Guess we’re off to a bad start. Maybe a break is in order?”
Dennis waved it off. “Nah, nah, it happens. Gotta keep playing.”
And that?
Was exactly what Maluck wanted to hear.
POV : Astral Universe
In the grand cosmic VIP lounge—where mortal souls were nothing more than prime entertainment—two figures lounged on a couch made of pure indulgence, watching the events unfold below like it was the season finale of their favorite drama.
Greed leaned forward, practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh, this is beautiful. Look at him. Chasing the rush, throwing down money he doesn’t have, convincing himself he’s due for a win.” He sighed contentedly. “That’s the good stuff.”
Envy, perched beside him, took a slow sip of her emerald-colored drink, smirking as Dennis stared longingly at Maluck’s fat roll of cash. “Mmm. And look at that yearning. That jealousy. He wants the car. The swagger. The ‘I just threw away a perfectly good vehicle for fun’ attitude.” She exhaled happily. “This is the best night I’ve had in centuries.”
Greed clapped his hands together. “Alright, I think it’s time to make this official.”
A golden scroll materialized in front of them, glowing with an irresistible aura of temptation.
[System Task: House Always Wins]
- Keep Dennis chasing his losses until he’s drowning in desperation.
- Push him deeper—encourage bigger bets, reckless decisions, and the belief that his luck must turn around.
- Ensure that when he finally hits rock bottom, he has no choice but to lean on Maluck.
Rewards:
- +0.3 Charisma (because conning someone into ruining themselves is an art)
Greed grinned, rolling the scroll up and sending it down with a dramatic flick of his wrist. “And sent!”
Envy watched as the notification popped up on Maluck’s interface, her smirk growing. “Do you think he’ll accept?”
***