Rex didn't remember walking out of the crowd; it just sort of parted for him.
Laughter, coins, and cosmic applause echoed behind him as he made his way toward the quieter corner of the House.
Lia followed, holding a translucent slate that projected his data.
"Congratulations, Rex — you've caused a minor riot in less than five minutes."
Rex smirked. "I like to make good first impressions."
She tilted her head. "Most players spend years earning a single Recognition point. You earned one by existing."
"Natural talent."
"Or natural chaos."
A flicker of irritation crossed her normally perfect expression — then curiosity. "Tell me, Rex. Do you even understand what Recognition is?"
He shrugged. "Street cred?"
"Close." She touched the slate, and symbols swirled into view — a grand pyramid of glowing Tables.
"Recognition is the House's attention. The more it notices you, the more the odds bend… for or against you. Most gamblers chase Recognition. But the House?"
She lowered her voice. "It doesn't like Wildcards. Unpredictable variables break the math."
Rex grinned. "Then I'll be their favorite mistake."
Before Lia could respond, the lights dimmed.
A hush swept the hall. Cards froze mid-air. Dice hung suspended.
[Attention: Table Authority — The Dealer — has entered the floor.]
The familiar voice purred, now booming from everywhere and nowhere.
"Ladies and degenerates! Our new player has broken statistical integrity within twenty-three minutes of registration. Let's all applaud his… recklessness."
Applause echoed from unseen hands.
Rex sighed. "You just had to make an entrance, didn't you?"
"I live for drama," the Dealer said, appearing beside him in a swirl of cards. "Now, lesson one, dear gambler: in this House, every win tilts the scale. Win too quickly, and the House tilts back."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning," Lia whispered, "you'll start attracting higher-table challengers. People who bet galaxies for breakfast."
The Dealer leaned in close, his grin gleaming.
"You've entered the House with no faction, no sponsor, and a personality problem. Statistically speaking, you should already be erased."
Rex met the empty gaze. "Statistically speaking, I shouldn't be alive either."
The grin widened. "Precisely why I find you fascinating."
[System Prompt]
New Directive — Prove Survival Value.
Earn 50 Recognition Points before the next full cycle or face ejection from the House.
Reward: Access to the Table Initiate Trial.
Penalty: Forfeit all Fate Points.
Rex frowned. "You're giving me a time limit already?"
The Dealer flicked a card against his forehead. "Consider it motivation."
"Motivation sounds a lot like blackmail."
"Semantics."
Lia cleared her throat softly. "If you're serious about surviving, I suggest you learn the Tables. Meet allies. Maybe… don't antagonize every high-roller you see."
Rex nodded thoughtfully. "Got it. Step one: antagonize selectively."
The Dealer laughed, the sound rippling through the entire casino.
"Oh, Rex… You're either going to rewrite fate or bankrupt it."
And somewhere high above, unseen by any of them, the cosmic odds shifted — numbers re-aligning, probabilities trembling — as the House itself whispered in the dark:
"Wildcard trajectory — unstable. Observation: Priority Alpha."