The sky was wrong.
It spun. Literally spun. Like a roulette wheel with stars as the numbered slots and galaxies as the croupier's prizes. Every revolution sent shockwaves of probability through Rex's skull.
He groaned. "You didn't tell me space could get motion sickness."
Lia adjusted her gloves, pretending not to smile. "You're not in space. You're in the House's lower dimension—The Trial Tables. This is where the system decides if you're worth its math."
"Sounds friendly."
"Friendly?" She gave him a side glance. "It's called Roulette of the Damned."
"Ah. So a tutorial level."
_____
The floor beneath them folded outward — tiles rearranging into a colossal roulette board floating above a black ocean.
Instead of numbers, each slot bore a name: Famine, War, Miracle, Love, Debt, Extinction, Rebirth.
The Dealer's voice boomed across the void, dripping with smug delight.
"Welcome, Ladies and Variables! Tonight's player: the Wildcard himself — Rex Vance!
His odds of survival? …Less than statistically meaningful."
Applause erupted from the cosmic audience — entities made of light, shadow, and stardust. Some had halos made of poker chips; others were literal dice rolling in humanoid form.
Rex bowed. "Don't worry, I've disappointed higher odds than you."
The Dealer cackled. "Confidence — or insanity?"
"Yes."
Lia sighed, summoning a floating display beside them — Trial Parameters.
Objective: Survive one complete spin of the Table without bankruptcy or annihilation.
Reward: 25 Recognition Points + Key to Intermediate Tables.
Failure: Immediate deletion from statistical memory.
Rex squinted. "Define 'deletion.'"
Lia's lips twitched. "Exactly what it sounds like."
"Cool, cool, no pressure."
_____
The wheel roared to life, and a giant emerald chip materialized above Rex's hand.
Symbols flickered across it: [Faith], [Fear], [Fate].
The Dealer's voice rang out:
"Bet your emotion, gambler. The House feeds on meaning, not metal."
Rex raised an eyebrow. "I can bet feelings now?"
Lia murmured, "Everything's currency here. Love, pride, pain, hope — all convertible."
He smirked. "Guess I'll bet my confidence then."
Lia's head snapped up. "Wait, what—"
He tossed the chip onto the spinning board.
The chip landed on Love.
The entire Table pulsed scarlet.
"Oh no," Lia whispered.
"Oh yes," the Dealer purred. "The Love Slot. How… statistically disastrous."
______
The roulette space around them dissolved — replaced by a grand ballroom of mirrors, chandeliers, and endless music. Phantom dancers swirled through the air, faceless and graceful.
At the center stood her.
Lia froze. "That's—"
"—you," Rex finished softly.
But this wasn't the calm, composed Lia he knew. This was Roulette Lia — draped in scarlet, eyes full of every emotion she normally buried.
"Welcome to the Love Table," she said, her voice like liquid temptation. "To win… you must make me believe you mean it."
"Mean what?"
"That you're not bluffing."
The real Lia turned bright red. "This isn't me! It's a probability construct!"
Rex grinned. "Relax. I'm used to fake affection — I used to date statistics."
"Rex!"
But he was already walking toward Roulette Lia, smile half-charming, half-suicidal.
The music swelled. The construct smirked. "Then prove your odds, gambler."
__
He leaned close, meeting the construct's burning eyes. "I don't bluff."
A pause.
Then — the sound of a thousand dice rolling.
[Result: Critical Success]
The Table acknowledges authenticity.
Reward: +15 Recognition Points.
Consequence: Emotional tether detected.
The ballroom shattered like glass. Rex found himself back on the wheel, breathing hard.
Lia's face was unreadable. "That… shouldn't have worked."
"Why? Afraid the fake you caught feelings first?"
"Afraid you did."
Rex blinked — caught off guard for the first time since arriving in the House.
The Dealer's laughter filled the void.
"Oh, how delicious. The Wildcard's greatest gamble… is affection."
The wheel slowed, halting on Rebirth.
[Trial Complete]
Reward: 25 Recognition Points earned.
Access Granted — Intermediate Table License.
As they were pulled back toward the real casino floor, Lia refused to meet his gaze.
He broke the silence first.
"So, when's the second date?"
"Never."
He grinned. "That's what they all say before the sequel."
The Luckdrake on his shoulder chirped approvingly, tail flicking as the House lights brightened once more.
And somewhere above them, the cosmic odds trembled again — like the universe itself had just placed a dangerous new bet.
Wildcard trajectory: Emotionally compromised. Potential: Unquantifiable.