The tavern had gone quiet.
Every eye in the room followed the small, ragged boy sitting at the gambling table. The air was thick with ale, smoke, and disbelief. Klein smiled faintly, the coin spinning lazily across his knuckles.
"Ready for another?" he asked, his tone light, almost teasing.
The old bearded man beside him gave a short nod. He was still trying to make sense of the last few minutes—three rounds, three wins, clean and effortless. Each toss of the coin had landed perfectly, predictably. Heads.
"Go on, boy," one of the players growled. "Let's see if your luck holds."
Klein grinned. 'Luck's the only thing I've got right now.'
Paros' voice purred in his mind, smooth as silk. "And what a fine thing it is to have. Shall we?"
Klein flicked his thumb, and the coin spun through the air. It caught the lamplight again, glimmering like gold, before landing neatly in his palm—heads.
Cheers erupted from the watching crowd. The old man who'd partnered with him shouted triumphantly, slamming the table. The losers groaned, tossing their coins forward.
Round after round, Klein's pile grew larger. He didn't count it—just enjoyed the sight of it glittering under the dim tavern lights.
'Four wins straight,' he thought. 'I'm either a genius or cursed to be lucky.'
Paros chuckled. "You make it sound like suffering. You should be celebrating."
'I will, once I'm not surrounded by angry drunks.'
The coin's hum deepened, almost like a laugh. "A wise thought."
The next round began. The men glared at him openly now, their eyes narrowing with every toss. Klein didn't flinch. He simply flipped Paros again—clean, confident, almost lazy.
Heads.
Again.
The table went silent.
For a long moment, no one moved. Then one of the men slammed his palm on the table.
"Impossible! That's four in a row!"
Another stood, his face red. "You're cheating, brat!"
Klein shrugged. "Maybe you're just unlucky."
"Unlucky, my ass!" The man reached across the table, grabbing Klein by the collar. "No one wins that clean unless they're scamming!"
Klein's smile didn't waver. "You want to bet on that too?"
That was the wrong thing to say.
Two more men stood up. The crowd backed away, sensing the shift in mood. Chairs scraped against the floor, and the air filled with the tension of drunk anger.
The bearded man—Klein's supposed partner—looked from the furious gamblers to the boy beside him, his face twisting with fear. "Kid, maybe we should—"
He didn't finish. One of the gamblers shoved him aside and grabbed Klein's arm.
"Let's see that coin, huh? Let's see your trick!"
Klein struggled, his pulse spiking. He felt the coin in his hand vibrate, faintly alive.
'Paros,' he thought quickly, 'any suggestions?'
"Run."
'Run? They're three grown men!'
"Then cut your way out."
Klein's eyes darted to the table. A dull knife lay near a half-finished loaf of bread. He didn't think—just moved.
In one motion, he grabbed the blade and slashed it across the hand gripping him. The man howled, stumbling back.
Blood splattered across the table. The crowd gasped.
Klein didn't wait. He scooped the pile of coins into his small bag and bolted for the door.
"Get him!" someone shouted.
Chairs toppled as men surged to their feet. Klein darted between them, slipping past the stumbling drunks and out into the street. The night air hit him like a slap, cold and sharp.
He ran.
Boots thundered behind him, curses echoing down the narrow road. Klein's bare feet slapped against the dirt, his lungs burning.
'They're faster!' he thought.
Paros' voice came calm, almost amused. "Then run smarter."
'I'm ten! I don't do smart!'
"Left. Alleyway. Now!"
Klein veered sharply into a dark alley. Barrels and crates lined the walls. He vaulted over one, squeezing through a gap barely big enough for his frame. Shouts echoed behind him, growing fainter.
When he finally stopped, he was panting, his chest heaving. He leaned against a wall and grinned wildly.
The bag of coins jingled in his hand—heavy, real.
'We did it,' he thought, half in disbelief.
Paros' chuckle rippled through his mind. "You didn't just win, master. You stole fate's coin purse and ran off laughing."
Klein laughed out loud, the sound echoing through the quiet alley. "Fifty percent cut, huh? Sorry, old man. I'll pay you back in spirit."
He sat on an old bench, still catching his breath. The adrenaline faded slowly, replaced by an almost childlike glee.
"Not bad for my first night alive again," he murmured.
"Not bad at all," Paros agreed. "Though you've made enemies already."
"Let them come," Klein said, tossing the coin up and catching it. "Luck's on my side."
The coin glimmered faintly in his palm, the runes pulsing like a heartbeat.
Heads, as always.
Klein giggled softly, leaning back against the bench, the sound of coins clinking in his lap.
'You know, Paros,' he thought, 'I think I like this world.'
"I thought you might," the coin replied. "Now, master, shall we find our next game?"
Klein's smile widened, sharp and bright.
"Yeah," he whispered. "Let's gamble with destiny."