There were certain universal constants.
Gravity. Time. Taxes.
And now, apparently, Rex Ward breaking everything he touched.
The next morning — or whatever passed for "morning" in a place built from dice rolls — the House of Odds woke up angry.
Lia stormed into Rex's new suite, tablet in hand, eyes wide with panic.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Rex stretched on the sofa, shirt unbuttoned, coffee mug labeled 'High Risk, Low Reward' in his hand. "Besides my usual chaos? No. Why, did the universe file a complaint?"
"It might as well have!" she snapped, swiping her slate. "Every probability index across the multiverse just spiked."
"Translation?"
"The laws of chance are… drunk."
As if on cue, a nearby slot machine sneezed.
Literally sneezed — coins exploded from the top, showering the room.
Rex blinked. "…Bless you?"
Lia groaned. "That's not all. The House's mascot division just sent you a cease-and-desist."
"The what?"
Before she could answer, the door burst open — and in waddled a five-foot-tall humanoid bunny in a tuxedo and bowtie. Its monocle gleamed menacingly.
"Rex Ward!" it squeaked. "By order of the House Mascot Council, you are hereby fined for unauthorized existential comedy!"
Rex stared. "There's a council for that?"
"Yes!" the bunny puffed up proudly. "Do you think chaos just runs itself?"
Rex rubbed his temples. "This place gets weirder every chapter."
Lia sighed. "You destabilized the House's humor protocols. It's rewriting itself to compensate."
The bunny crossed its fluffy arms. "And as punishment, you must attend Mandatory House Sensitivity Training!"
Rex choked. "You're kidding."
The lights flickered. A massive neon sign appeared over the door:
[Mandatory Training: Maintaining Professionalism While Breaking Probability]
Lia covered her face. "This… is going to be painful."
Thirty minutes later.
Rex sat in a classroom made of floating poker tables. Around him, various creatures — including a literal storm cloud, a talking coin, and a sentient spreadsheet — listened to a holographic instructor drone on.
"Rule One," the hologram said in a monotone, "Never intentionally provoke the odds."
Rex raised a hand. "Define intentionally."
Lia, sitting next to him, whispered, "Please stop talking."
He grinned. "If the universe can't take a joke, that's not my fault."
The spreadsheet beside him turned its cell toward him. "Statistically, you are a menace."
"Thanks, Excel."
The Dealer's voice suddenly interrupted the lecture, purring from the speakers:
"Ah, Rex. I see you're attending class. How… responsible of you."
"Bite me," Rex muttered.
"Tempting," the Dealer replied. "But I have something better. A surprise guest speaker."
The hologram flickered — replaced by the Dealer himself, standing before the room in a pinstripe suit and devilish grin.
"Lesson two: What happens when you cheat the House?"
The room dimmed.
The tables began to rise, glowing symbols forming around Rex's chair.
Lia's eyes widened. "Dealer, don't you dare—!"
He winked. "Relax, my dear. It's just a demonstration."
[Mini-Trial Activated: Detention of Probability.]
[Objective: Escape the Lesson Alive.]
Rex sighed, standing. "Of course it's a trap disguised as a seminar."
The Dealer spread his arms. "Welcome to academia, Wildcard."
Cards flew. Dice screamed.
Lia groaned. "He's doing this just to humiliate you!"
Rex dodged a spinning table, grabbed a flying poker chip, and threw it like a dagger — slicing through the holographic rulebook.
The Dealer clapped. "Ah, beautiful form. Reckless. Unteachable. My favorite kind of student."
Rex smirked, breathing hard. "Then here's my final lesson."
He flicked his wrist — a glowing card appeared between his fingers.
The Joker.
The classroom exploded in laughter — literal laughter, the sound of universes finding the joke funny for once.
When the smoke cleared, the Dealer stood applauding.
"Bravo, Rex. You've successfully weaponized irony."
Rex dusted his coat. "What can I say? I learn fast."
Lia sighed. "You're going to destroy reality one punchline at a time."
The Dealer smiled slyly. "Precisely why I can't stop watching."
And as the lights returned and the cosmic laughter faded, the House itself whispered:
"Wildcard probability expansion… still accelerating."