Maluck knew the day was going to be off the second he woke up and stepped on something sharp.

  “Son of a—!” He hopped back onto the bed, grabbed his foot, and glared at the tiny object on the floor.

  A hotel mint.

  Who the hell leaves a mint in the middle of the floor? Probably Chloe. He sighed, but as he moved to throw it away, something caught his eye.

  Right beside the trash bin? A $20 bill.

  Alright. That was weird. But hey, free money.

  Then he went to get dressed and realized his favorite black button-up shirt had a mysterious bleach stain on it. No idea how. No idea when. Just a perfect, annoying white blotch right in the middle of his chest.

  Annoyed, he grabbed another shirt from his bag—only to find his lost $200 casino chip tucked into the fabric.

  “Okay, I see what’s happening,” Maluck muttered.

  Breakfast didn’t help. He ordered steak and eggs, got oatmeal and fruit instead. Before he could even complain, the manager noticed and sent him an entire tray of untouched food onto his table—including a perfectly cooked steak and eggs plate meant for someone else.

  Fine. He’d take it.

  He sipped his coffee. Burned the hell out of his mouth.

  But as Maluck set his drink down, the guy at the next table stood up—and accidentally dropped his wallet.

  The guy hadn’t noticed, but Maluck had. Without hesitation, he scooped up the wallet and handed it back.

  “Hey, man, you dropped this.”

  The guy blinked, checking his pockets before realizing what had happened. “Oh—wow, thanks! I didn’t even notice.”

  He looked really appreciative. Losing cash was one thing—annoying, sure, but replaceable. The real nightmare? Replacing IDs, credit cards, and whatever else was crammed in there.

  And this guy? He had some special IDs in there.

  Maluck didn’t think much of it—just another small interaction in a busy day. But the man, Tom, took a longer look at him. Because Tom wasn’t just some random guy.

  He was a SIU investigator for the police.

  And even though Maluck had no idea, that simple act of honesty had just left a damn good impression on someone who might be important later.

  “…What the hell is happening today?”

  He stepped outside, and right on cue, a pigeon shit on his shoulder.

  Annoyed beyond reason, he wiped it off and threw his jacket into the backseat of his Hellburst. As he did, something shiny caught his eye between the seats.

  His missing silver coin.

  “…Of course.”

  Then he got into the Hellburst, turned the key, and…

  Click.

  Nothing.

  Battery dead.

  Maluck closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Opened them.

  Right in front of his car? A luxury tow truck with a “FREE SERVICE TODAY” sign plastered across the front.

  Maluck stared.

  Then he started laughing.

  “Alright, universe,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I see what you’re doing.”

  He glanced at his Level 3 – Coin Flip Fate ability.

  “You get equal amounts of good and bad luck. Enjoy the ride.”

  Yeah… it definitely seemed to be on overdrive.

  In fact, what Maluck didn’t realize was that he’d already had several bad luck incidents—more than he even noticed. But because he’d grown up with so much bad luck, the small stuff didn’t even register anymore. A coffee spill here, a lost sock there? Barely worth a thought.

  Meanwhile, good luck? That was building up.

  Tiny, random instances of fortune were stacking in the background, accumulating like unclaimed rewards. He couldn’t see them on his stat sheet, couldn’t track them or predict them—but they were there, lurking just out of sight, waiting for the perfect moment to drop into his life when he least expected it.

  ***

  Maluck met Cass for a quick catch-up, sliding into the booth across from her as she barely glanced up from her tablet.

  Cass was still buried in her research, chasing down every possible way to take down Trask and Lowell. She wasn’t about to let Maluck slack off, either. Without looking up, she rattled off a list of high-level connections, financial records, and weak points they could exploit.

  Maluck took a slow sip of his coffee, watching her work.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “I really have no way of making this happen,” he muttered.

  Cass didn’t even react, too busy scrolling through whatever deep-dive nightmare she’d pulled up.

  And that’s when his Lucky Watch chimed.

  WALK TO FRONT DESK.

  Maluck blinked. “Huh.”

  Cass finally looked up. “What?”

  His instincts kicked in. No questions. No hesitation.

  “Uh, Cass? I gotta step out for a second,” Maluck said, already standing up.

  Cass raised an eyebrow. “What? Why?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, grabbing his jacket and heading straight for the lobby.

  ***

  The hotel lobby was as fancy as ever—full of people with way too much money and way too little self-awareness. The kind of crowd that wore designer suits but couldn’t be bothered to tip, or ordered thousand-dollar cocktails just to look important.

  Maluck wasn’t sure what he was supposed to find here, but his gut told him to keep moving.

  And then—

  BAM.

  He collided with someone hard enough to nearly knock them both over.

  “Watch where you’re—”

  Jonathan Alroquette stopped mid-sentence, his irritation flipping into something far more… happily calculative as he recognized Maluck.

  Maluck blinked. ‘Jonathan? Jonathan Alroquette?’

  And right beside him? A stunning, expensively dressed woman clinging to his arm—the kind of woman who was definitely not his wife.

  Maluck took one look at Jonathan’s face. Then at the woman’s. Then back to Jonathan.

  A slow grin spread across his lips.

  Jonathan exhaled sharply, muttering something under his breath. “Maluck. Fancy running into you.”

  Maluck didn’t buy the fake smile for a second. Jonathan looked nervous.

  ‘Interesting.’

  He smirked. “Funny running into you too, Jon. Something on your mind?”

  Jonathan hesitated. He wasn’t a criminal—he played dirty, sure, but outright illegal? That was a whole different level. But running into Maluck like this?

  ‘It has to be fate.’

  That made up his mind.

  Jonathan straightened his tie, cleared his throat, and gave Maluck a measured look.

  “Let’s talk.”

  ****

  Jonathan sighed, smoothing a hand over his perfectly tailored jacket before gesturing for Maluck to follow him to the hotel bar. But first, he turned to his mistress.

  “Sweetheart, go up to my room. Order whatever you want.”

  She gave him a sultry smile, patted his cheek like he was her favorite indulgence, and strutted off toward the elevator. Maluck watched her leave, then turned back to Jonathan with a knowing smirk.

  “You keep a room here just for your mistresses, huh?”

  Jonathan scoffed, adjusting his cufflinks. “Like you don’t have your own bad habits.”

  Maluck grinned. “Yeah, but mine come with better benefits.”

  They found a quiet booth near the back of the bar, where the dim lighting and overpriced drinks set the mood for whatever ridiculous conversation was about to happen. Jonathan, ever the cliché, ordered a whiskey neat. Maluck leaned forward, waiting for the rich bastard to spill whatever pretentious nonsense he had brewing.

  Jonathan exhaled, swirling his drink with slow irritation before finally saying, “Alan Trask.”

  Maluck blinked, then grinned. ‘Jackpot.’

  Of all the names Jonathan could have dropped, he had to mention Alan Trask—the exact man Maluck was already working on taking down.

  “You mean Alan Trask, the guy who’s running charity scams and laundering money?” Maluck said, trying not to sound too interested.

  Jonathan frowned. “Wait, you know about that?”

  Maluck shrugged. “I know a lot of things.”

  Jonathan shook his head and took a long sip of his drink. “I don’t give a damn about his charities. My issue is that smug asshole outbid me on something I should have won.”

  Maluck raised an eyebrow. “And that something is…?”

  Jonathan clenched his jaw. “An antique puzzle box. Seventeenth century. Rare craftsmanship. He just had to swoop in at the last minute and outbid me. Not because he wanted it. Not because he collects. Just to screw with me.”

  Maluck bit his tongue to keep from laughing. ‘This was hilarious.’

  Here he was, working on taking Trask down for actual crimes—embezzlement, fraud, money laundering—and Jonathan was over here fuming because the man bought a box.

  “So,” Maluck said, barely holding in his amusement, “you’re mad because Trask flexed on you at an auction?”

  Jonathan scowled. “It’s the principle. That box should have been mine. But no, he’s probably just gonna let it collect dust in some vault, just to rub it in my face.”

  Maluck leaned back, chuckling. “So let me get this straight. You want me to… what? Steal it for you? Break into his house and yank it off his shelf?”

  Jonathan gave him a long look.

  Maluck’s laughter stopped.

  “…Wait. You’re serious?”

  Jonathan took another sip of whiskey. “You know people.”

  Maluck blinked. “Oh my. You’re actually asking me to steal it.”

  Jonathan sighed dramatically. “Look, I’m not saying you have to. But if something were to… let’s say… happen, and that box just happened to end up in my possession? I’d be very grateful.”

  Maluck couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This second-generation heir, who had spent his life looking down on people like Trask, was now seriously considering a heist—over a puzzle box.

  Maluck grinned. “Jon, I gotta tell you, this is hilarious.”

  Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Are you going to help me or not?”

  Maluck tapped his fingers on the table, thinking. ‘Sure, breaking into Trask’s place just for a fancy antique box sounded ridiculous—but any excuse to dig around in Trask’s private affairs was gold.’

  And he just so happened to have a world-class thief training at Sentinel Security. “I might know a girl.”

  Jonathan smiled. “And obviously, I’m not expecting you to do this out of the kindness of your heart.”

  Maluck grinned. “Good, because I’m fresh out of that.”

  Jonathan pulled out his checkbook. “You get me the box, I’ll pay $200,000. No questions asked.”

  Maluck whistled. “Damn. You really do have rich people problems.”

  Jonathan shrugged. “I really really hate Trask.”

  Maluck tapped his chin. “What if I told you I could get you the box and screw Trask over in the process?”

  Jonathan’s eyes gleamed. “Then I’d really owe you a favour.”

  Maluck laughed. “Now we’re talking.”

  [System Task: A Gentleman’s Heist]

  Issuer: Greed & Envy (Oh, they’re absolutely eating this up.)

  Objective: Retrieve the Seventeenth-Century Puzzle Box from Alan Trask’s possession and deliver it to Jonathan.

  Bonus Objective: Ensure Trask never outbids Jonathan again—in any way that amuses you most.

  Rewards:

  ?350 LP (For an elegant, high-stakes bit of larceny.)

  ?A ‘favor’ from Jonathan Alroquette (No price tag, but could be worth millions.)

  ?0.1 Charisma (For successfully negotiating between the ultra-rich.)

  ?Potential access to Trask’s private estate & vault.

  ?A very smug rich man who owes you big.

  [System Commentary: Now that’s thinking like a businessman.]

  ***

  Maluck leaned back, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I’ll definitely take the deal, but I’m going to need your help.”

  Jonathan perked up, his interest piqued. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Anything you can do to help would be great.”

  Jonathan leaned in slightly, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Such as?” This was definitely new territory for him—he’d never been involved in anything shady before, and to his surprise, it was thrilling.

  Maluck tapped his fingers against the table. “If you can get me names of people who work there, layouts of his place, that kind of stuff—intel that keeps me from having to do anything too dangerous.”

  Jonathan’s expression shifted from curiosity to something more calculating. “Got it.” Then, after a pause, a smirk formed. “But let’s be honest, it’ll be fun.”

  Maluck chuckled. “Exactly.”

  Jonathan sat back, rolling the idea around in his head. “Oh, this is definitely going to go well,” he said, a wicked glint in his eyes. He was going to enjoy screwing over Trask.

  And Maluck? He was really, really going to enjoy this.

  Not only was he getting the exact information he needed to take down Trask, but he was also collecting a System bonus and getting paid—all at the same time.

  He smiled like someone who had just found a buy one, get three free coupon for something he was already planning to buy anyway.

  There was a lot he needed to do next—plans to set in motion, loose ends to tie up, and details to lock down. But one thing?

  One thing was extra important.

  And he was going to handle that next.

  ***