Part 1: The House Always Loses
The "Devil's Dice" was buried three floors beneath the Red Light District. It didn't have a sign, only a heavy iron door that smelled of stale tobacco and desperation.
Valen pushed the door open. The air inside was thick with blue smoke and the clatter of chips.
"This place feels... heavy," Seraphina whispered, clutching her staff. It wasn't just the smoke; the mana here was twisted. It felt like walking under a ladder while breaking a mirror.
"Stay close," Valen said, his hand on his sword. "Caelum said she's drowning in noise. Let's find the source."
They didn't have to look far. In the center of the room, a crowd had gathered around a single table. They weren't cheering; they were watching in terrified silence.
Sitting at the table was a woman with messy violet hair and dark circles under her eyes. She wore a coat that looked like a patchwork of different expensive suits—trophies from defeated opponents. She was shuffling a deck of cards with one hand, humming a low, haunting melody.
[Target Identified: Lyra]
[Class: Doom Singer (Rare)]
"Fold," a large Orc sitting opposite her grunted, throwing his cards down. He was sweating profusely. "I'm out. Keep the money."
"Leaving so soon?" Lyra asked. Her voice was scratchy, like a vinyl record. "But you're winning."
"I'm not winning!" the Orc shouted, standing up. "My chair broke twice! The waitress spilled boiling tea on my lap! And my inventory just glitched and deleted my sword! You're cursed, woman!"
The Orc stormed off. As he passed the doorway, a loose ceiling tile fell and hit him squarely on the head. THUD.
Lyra didn't laugh. She just sighed, scooping the pile of coins toward her.
"Another one bites the dust," she murmured, shuffling the deck again. "Who's next? Come on, I'll give you double odds."
No one moved. The circle of players widened, afraid to get too close.
Valen stepped through the crowd. "I'll play."
The room gasped. Lyra looked up. Her eyes were different colors—one blue, one gold.
"A Paladin?" Lyra smirked. "You're a long way from the church, hero. What's the bet? Gold? Armor? Your pretty face?"
Valen sat down opposite her. Seraphina stood behind him, radiating a soft white light that pushed back the gloom.
"I don't want your money," Valen said, placing his Guild Badge on the table. "If I win, you join my Guild."
Lyra froze. The playful smirk vanished. She looked at Valen, then at Seraphina.
"A Guild?" Lyra laughed, a dry, bitter sound. "Kid, do you have a death wish? Or did you just skip the tutorial on 'bad omens'?"
She leaned forward, her violet hair falling over her mismatched eyes.
"You don't want me," she whispered. "I'm not a teammate. I'm a walking funeral."
Part 2: The Song of Ruin
[Flashback: 2 Years Ago - Floor 5]
Lyra wasn't always alone. She used to be a Bard in a party called "The Silver Chords." They were rookies, full of hope.
"Sing for us, Lyra!" the leader, a jovial warrior named Marcus, shouted. "Give us the Song of Victory!"
Lyra strummed her lute. [Skill: Anthem of Fortune]. It boosted Crit Rate by 50%.
The party felt invincible. They tore through the goblins. They were critical hitting every strike. They felt like gods.
But Lyra's hidden trait, [Equivalent Exchange], was always active. For every stroke of good luck she gave, the universe demanded bad luck in return.
They reached the boss room. They won easily.
"We did it!" Marcus cheered, raising his sword.
Then, it happened.
The Boss's corpse didn't despawn correctly. It rolled over, hitting a structural pillar. A single, tiny pebble fell from the ceiling. It hit a structural weakness in the cave floor.
The floor collapsed.
Lyra watched as Marcus, the healer, and the mage fell into the abyss. She reached out to grab Marcus's hand.
Her glove slipped. Just a little bad luck.
He fell. She survived.
She was the only one left standing on the ledge, surrounded by the loot of the friends she had inadvertently killed.
[End of Flashback]
Present Time - The Devil's Dice
Lyra snapped back to reality. She looked at Valen's earnest face. It reminded her of Marcus.
"I refuse," Lyra said, standing up. "Get lost, hero. Before the ceiling falls on you."
"I challenge you," Valen said firmly. "One game. Highest card wins."
Lyra paused. She looked at the deck.
"You really want to do this?" she asked. "Fine. But if you lose... you leave me alone forever. And you give me that shiny sword."
"Deal," Valen said.
Lyra shuffled. Her hands moved like water.
"I'll warn you," she said softly. "My luck isn't just bad. It's catastrophic. When I play against someone I like... they usually get hurt."
She dealt one card to Valen. One to herself.
Valen reached for his card.
SNAP.
The leg of Valen's chair snapped.
It was happening. The curse. Valen tipped backward. If he fell, he'd hit his head on the stone corner of the bar. It was a fatal trajectory.
Lyra closed her eyes. Here we go again.
But he didn't fall.
A hand caught the back of his chair.
Seraphina.
She wasn't just holding the chair; she was glowing. Her [Saintess's Aura] flared, wrapping around Valen like a protective cocoon.
"Careful," Seraphina said gently, pulling Valen upright. "This furniture is old."
Lyra stared. Her curse... missed?
Valen didn't even look shaken. He flipped his card.
King of Hearts.
Lyra looked at her card. She knew it would be an Ace. It was always an Ace when she wanted to lose, or a 2 when she wanted to win. The universe loved to mock her.
She flipped it.
Queen of Spades.
Lyra blinked. "I... lost?"
She looked at Seraphina. The healer smiled. It wasn't a mocking smile. It was a smile that said, 'I can carry your weight.'
"You lost," Valen grinned. "That means you're hired."
Lyra looked at the cards. For the first time in two years, the game had been fair. The Saintess's blessing had neutralized her calamity.
"You people are crazy," Lyra whispered, her voice trembling. "I'm going to get you killed."
"Our leader is crazier," Valen assured her. "And our Tank is literally unkillable. You'll fit right in."
Lyra looked at the chaotic, smoky room. Then she looked at the two beaming idiots in front of her.
She picked up her lute case from under the table.
"Fine," Lyra sighed, a small, genuine smirk tugging at her lips. "But I'm charging extra for hazard pay."
[Member 9 Acquired: Lyra (The Cursed Gambler)]