With Wuorin's wealth, no gift—no matter how valuable—would be a financial burden. But given the uncertainty of the outcome, she wasn't the type to casually give things away.
"Probability, huh…"
Either way, this was a chance to experience an Objet firsthand.
Shirone wasn't particularly greedy for the gift itself. He was just intensely curious about what might come out.
Perhaps that was the true value of this Objet—the thrill of imagining the gift.
In that sense, Probability's Wheel was an ingenious toy that played on human psychology. Unlike other forms of gambling, there was no real failure.
"At least a Humble Gift is guaranteed. So, can I give it a try?"
"Of course! I do it every day."
Wuorin readily agreed and added an explanation.
"Just flick the tip of the indicator with your finger. Experiments showed that if it spins less than ten times, it's considered invalid. But don't worry—it won't count as your one try for the day."
"Oh-ho, I see."
Shirone's eyes gleamed with interest.
Why exactly ten spins? If there were no restrictions, one could nudge the indicator just enough to land on Miracle.
'Fascinating. Even though it's an object, it's bound by rules like some kind of exception clause.'
Then, a brilliant thought struck him.
"Wait… maybe we can make it land on Miracle every time."
Wuorin's eyes sparkled just like Shirone's.
The ability to analyze an object from multiple angles was essential for an Objet collector. In that regard, Shirone had the makings of a true collector.
"As expected of a mage! You're thinking of adjusting the force to spin it exactly 360 degrees, right?"
"Exactly. Or hiring a professional gambler. If you get a feel for the roulette's sensitivity, you could replicate the same force every time."
"Great idea! But sadly, it's impossible. I've already tried it. The position seems to be determined by some kind of random variable after spinning."
"Hmm… so you're saying Probability's Wheel controls the probability? Even the 1% Miracle could be a lie. Wouldn't that make it an unfair gamble?"
If this was a gambling Objet, the probabilities should at least be fair. Otherwise, there'd be no need for an interface to test them.
Wuorin felt a strong kinship with Shirone.
In truth, she had let many others spin the roulette before. But most were too fixated on the gift they might receive to appreciate the Objet's nature.
Seeing them pray for expensive gifts in front of the roulette had annoyed her so much she'd walked out before.
An Objet collector needed two things: an interesting Objet and an audience who could recognize its true worth.
Zion occasionally brought her good Objets, but his discernment was hopeless.
But Shirone was different.
In her view, the significance of it wasn't in material value but in the daily anticipation of a gift.
In that sense, Shirone's curiosity mirrored her own when she first acquired Probability's Wheel.
"Right. That's why I once hired a world-class professional gambler—a true master of schemas. For ten days, he applied the same force ten times, but the results varied each time. Yet I still believe this is valid as a gambling tool."
"Why? Did you discover something else?"
Zion, unable to bear the boredom, let out a loud yawn.
Of course, he understood the importance of analyzing Probability's Wheel.
But such headaches were for underlings. Royalty only needed to purchase and enjoy Objets.
Regardless, Wuorin's attention remained solely on Shirone.
"Because of the statistics. I obtained this roulette exactly 1,003 days ago. Meaning, excluding today, I've spun it 1,002 times. Out of those, Miracle occurred twice. Humble Gift 823 times, Pleasant Gift 171 times, and Excessive Gift 6 times."
Shirone realized what she was getting at.
"Ah, so the stats roughly match the probabilities. That means the variables are fair. Maybe they're something beyond human control…?"
Wuorin pointed at him excitedly.
"Exactly! The statistics following the probabilities prove there's no trick. So this Objet still holds value as a gambling tool."
Shirone rested his chin on his hand, deep in thought.
The statistics suggested fair rules existed. Yet even the world's best gambler couldn't replicate the same result. That meant the variables operated in a realm beyond human control.
"An extremely sensitive sensor? Something muscle strength can't influence?"
"Yes. Experts think so too. They say it's likely quantum-level variance."
Quantum level.
Indeed, controlling the weight of an electron—lighter than an atom—with muscle power was impossible. This meant that despite its childish appearance, it was an extremely precise device.
Shirone examined Probability's Wheel more closely now.
Outwardly, it looked like an old antique—a crude wooden case, a miniature clown smiling, childish drawings on the hemispherical surface.
Suddenly, he imagined gypsy children spinning the roulette, laughing joyfully. Normally, it would be a heartwarming scene, but for some reason, it sent a chill down his spine now.
"If a Miracle happens, what kind of gift does it give?"
Wuorin's face stiffened coldly.
"I can't tell you that."
Shirone stared at her blankly. Then, as if it had never happened, she stuck out her tongue playfully.
"Hehe, just kidding! It'd ruin the fun if I told you. Come on, hurry up and spin it."
"Hmm, should I?"
Shirone stopped analyzing and prepared for the real thing.
Flicking the indicator was pointless—human force couldn't control it anyway.
Everything depended on luck. A childish future where only amusement awaited.
"Then, here goes."
He placed his finger on the tip of the indicator—and flicked.
Tiririri.
The arrow spun with a sound more fitting for a child's toy.
Wuorin's eyes sparkled as she watched. Even Zion, who usually showed little interest, crossed his arms and fixed his gaze on the roulette this time.
When the needle stopped, Wuorin slammed the table and shot to her feet.
"Wah! This is an excessive gift! The odds for this were only 4%!"
Shirone was too tense to even feel joy at winning such a low-probability prize.
The roulette had spun precisely as dictated by Probability's Wheel. Now, what awaited them?
Knock knock.
Shirone turned toward the door at the sound. But no matter how long he waited, no further movement followed.
"It's here! Oppa, go check it out!"
Shirone walked briskly to the door—though mentally, it took him much longer to prepare himself before opening it.
When he pulled the handle, the sight of torches flickering in a square-shaped cave greeted him.
Not a single sign of life, not even a buzzing fly.
Remembering Probability's Wheel, Shirone scanned the floor. There, a gift box adorned with a red ribbon lay waiting.
A shiver ran down his spine at the sight of this inexplicable present.
This was a sealed space. He hadn't even heard the first door open. So who—or what—had knocked?
"Oppa, hurry up and show us! I'm dying of curiosity!"
Pressed by Wuorin, Shirone reluctantly picked up the gift and placed it on the table. Zion and Wuorin craned their necks like turtles inspecting something strange.
"Since it's yours, you should open it."
When Shirone tugged the red ribbon, the knot smoothly unraveled on its own.
Though the scene was oddly romantic, Shirone handled the box as cautiously as if it were an explosive.
"Huh? What is this?"
Inside was a ceramic doll.
A three-headed girl with black hair cascading down to her ankles. Her lashes were long, and her jeweled eyes resembled those of a real person.
While not grotesque in form, Shirone felt such revulsion that he didn't even want to touch it.
Humans feel the most terror in the uncanny valley—the unsettling midpoint between the familiar and the alien.
This doll was no exception.
Its proportions were unnatural, its features lifeless, yet its hair, lashes, and eyes were so humanlike that it evoked instinctive dread.
Wuorin, however, widened her eyes in fascination.
"Oh? What's this?"
Without thinking, her hand reached for the doll—then hesitated as she glanced at Shirone. She didn't want to pressure him, even if the gift excited her.
Shirone readily yielded. Frankly, he didn't even want to look at it.
"It's fine. I don't know what it is—you examine it."
Wuorin carefully lifted the doll, as though afraid of scratching its gilded surface. Zion's gaze followed it.
Though no expert on dolls, even he recognized this one. He had once gone to great lengths to procure one for his sister—a prized item in her collection.
"An El Crauchi jointless porcelain doll."
"Huh? El Crauchi?"
Wuorin held the doll under the light, inspecting the ceramic face's interior. True enough, there were no seam marks—a genuine artifact.
Confirmation in hand, she finally explained.
"El Crauchi was a dollmaker famous for not using adhesives. Only twelve of his works are publicly known, and all are accounted for. I own four myself. In short—this is an unpublished piece. At auction, it'd start at 100 million gold minimum."
"What? 100 million gold?!"
Shirone's eyes nearly bulged out.
In the Kingdom of Tormia, an average commoner's yearly expenses were around 100 gold. Shirone's own family had scraped by on just 50 gold a year before he became a servant for the Ozent household.
Even by a mage's standards, this was astronomical.
A newly licensed mage earned roughly 4,000 gold annually, while even a state-certified 6th-rank mage averaged under 200,000 gold. In other words, it would take Professor Siana 500 years of backbreaking work to amass such a sum.
Beyond 5th-rank, earnings varied wildly by skill, but given that Kazura's royal 3rd-rank archmages earned around 30 million, 100 million was enough to make any noble's eyes gleam.
'Wait a minute…'
The sum wasn't the issue. How could an El Crauchi piece even be among the possible gifts?
If it was an artist's work, it existed in the world. Unless someone had prepared it in advance, this implied Probability's Wheel could teleport objects across space in an instant.
"...How is this possible?"
"Because it's an Objet." Wuorin tapped the roulette. "Excessive gifts are judged by rarity. Once, someone received a deep-sea fish with a human face. It died immediately, though. Not all excessive gifts are valuable—but this doll is a material jackpot. You could even sell it."
She then eyed Shirone cautiously.
"So, about that…"
Shirone didn't need to hear the rest.
She'd already collected four of these dolls. To outsiders, they were eerie—but to a connoisseur, nothing was more precious.
"If you want it, take it. I don't mind giving it to you."
"Huh? N-No! I didn't mean—I was going to offer to buy it for 100 million! But I thought you'd refuse…"
She seemed to recall how Shirone had snapped when Eliza offered to buy his parents a castle on his first day at the palace.
"Hah! Right. I don't need money. Just take it. The Objet's yours anyway."
100 million gold was hard to pass up.
But if the recipient was Wuorin—Kazura's most powerful figure—it was worth the sacrifice. No amount of wealth outweighed survival.
As expected, Zion's face twisted.
Was his sister really putting him in debt to his rival for the throne? Even for her, this was reckless.
'...Or is it?'
A dark thought flashed through Zion's mind.
Wuorin was the obedient little sister. Despite being Teraze's heir, she had never once slighted him.
But today felt off.
She had chosen this gallery for Shirone's visit.
Fine—she loved showing off her Objets. But why this one?
'Because it's the most probable Objet…'
Had Shirone landed on the 75% modest gift, no issues would've arisen.
Instead, he hit the 4% excessive gift—and it just happened to be Wuorin's beloved El Crauchi doll.
'Wuorin's no fool. Did she test Shirone's luck? If so… is she weighing him against me?'
The thought alone made his throat burn.
Delusion. Coincidence. It has to be.
If Shirone could beat 4% odds, Wuorin picking Probability's Wheel could also be chance.
Besides, she was Teraze's daughter. Even if she played naive, she wasn't so empty-headed as to betray her own brother for Shirone.
"Aah, she's so pretty. Thank you, Oppa!"
Watching Wuorin hug the doll, Shirone understood why brothers doted on their sisters.
Yet his smile soon faded. However he looked at it, Probability's Wheel was not normal.
"Wuorin, you shouldn't spin this roulette anymore."
"Huh? Why?"
Shirone eyed the wheel uneasily.
"It doesn't add up. No magic bypasses equivalent exchange—even irregular spells are a form of mental exchange. But this Objet's too aberrant. If you keep taking gifts like this, someday, the price will come due."
Wuorin blinked, then carefully placed the doll back in its box. Sitting down, she propped her chin on her hand and flicked the roulette's idle needle.
"Hmm, I get what you mean. But by that logic, nothing in the world is 100% safe. More people die from kitchen knives than Objets, you know."
"But fewer people use Objets than knives. Ten deaths out of a hundred isn't the same as ten out of a thousand. And I've heard Objet deaths do happen—haven't you?"
Wuorin slid Probability's Wheel toward him.
"This Objet first appeared 240 years ago. Some of its owners did meet gruesome ends."