Many years later, as he faced the deepest curse in the world, Aventurine would recall that distant afternoon when his mother whispered softly to him.
She said, 「"May the Mother Goddess close her eyes three times for you—may your blood forever pulse, your journey remain unhindered, and your schemes never fail."」
O Mother Goddess, why could your grace not be more generous? Could you not have added one more phrase: 'may your good fortune never fade'.…
"What is this thing?" Aventurine summoned the power of his Path, scanning every corner of his body.
Yet he could not detect the slightest anomaly. That strange black mist had caused no harm at all.
But then why did he feel such a bone-deep chill?
He stared at Sylvester, hoping for a reasonable explanation.
"[The Resentment of the Hapless Ones]."
Sylvester met his gaze with sympathetic eyes. "It comes from the final grand wish of an extreme 'unlucky soul' before their death. They wanted the world's most fortunate man to taste the most terrifying fall from grace. Truly… a dreadful curse."
"???"
At those words, Aventurine's mind went blank. The noisy clamor of frightened customers around him faded into silence.
His heart hurt worse than if he'd been cleaved by Blade's sword.
Because death at least ended things. But this? This was a fate worse than death!
Had he just spent a million credits—only to slash away his own luck?
That had to be fake.
Was he really spending money? Didn't feel like it. Even robbery didn't come with punishment like this!
"Mr. Sylvester. I want to open two more!" Aventurine snapped back to his senses, clinging to his last shred of hope. Maybe this shopkeeper was just bluffing, spinning unverifiable nonsense to spook him.
"By all means." Including the black one, Sylvester swiped his card again—for two more trash cans.
Aventurine prowled the shelves, finally picking out two by instinct.
The first opened with a flash of green, revealing a pouch of tiny black pills.
"What's this?"
"[Lesser Recovery Pills]. They have a… slight healing effect." Sylvester rubbed his nose, holding back some of the harsher truth for fear of breaking Aventurine completely.
"How slight?" Aventurine pressed, unwilling to give up.
"Well…"
Sylvester stammered, "Someone once said: 'if you're injured, you'd better hurry and eat this pill… or else your wound will heal before it works.'"
"Hss~" Aventurine's vision darkened.
What was even the point of making something like this? A waste of herbs. Less useful than a sugar cube.
Without a word, he tore open the next one.
Again green light. A four-leaf clover drifted out.
The deep green plant made Aventurine's right eyelid twitch.
On another day, he could have laughed it off, joked about how fitting it was with his luck.
But now, this symbol of good fortune felt like a cruel mockery.
Sylvester: "…"
So, this is what true unluckiness looks like.
"Mr. Aventurine, as the Xianzhou say: 'When things reach their extreme, they must reverse; when misfortune peaks, fortune will follow.' Though luck has abandoned you now, it won't always be this way. No child cries forever, no gambler loses every throw. Don't you think so?"
Aventurine slumped into a chair in the lounge area. He lifted his eyes to Sylvester, face twisted in a bitter smile.
This isn't 'when misfortune peaks, fortune follows'… This is 'when fortune peaks, misfortune follows'.
"I'd never lost before," Aventurine muttered, rubbing his temples, struggling to steady himself. "I need… a moment's rest."
Seeing him pale and ashen, Sylvester nodded in understanding.
After all, men… their first time is always tough.
"Boss, is it my turn now?" A customer stepped forward, seeing the young noble's broken look.
Sylvester glanced up in surprise. A familiar face.
Wasn't this the guy who had pulled the Jade Slave Contract? He hadn't expected him to return.
"That's right, it's your turn. You bought four last time, so you've still got six slots this week."
"Haha, Boss, what a sharp memory. No ledger needed—you just remember it all at a glance." The man strolled in grinning. "That pill from last time? Sold it to a Foxian doctor. Not only covered the cost, made a tidy profit too."
"So here I am, back to try my luck again."
Without hesitation, he grabbed two trash cans, opening them both at once.
Such extravagance—he really must have profited handsomely.
Two blue flashes lit the air.
One was a Memory Bubble, the other a fist-sized red-and-white sphere.
The man's eyes lit up. The trick of judging item quality by the glow at opening had already spread like wildfire online.
Even if he didn't know their exact uses, the blue glow alone guaranteed he'd make his money back.
"Hahaha, Boss Sylvester, what are these? What can they do?"
Aventurine lifted his head at the laughter, eyes burning with longing. It was like watching himself from yesterday.
Sylvester noticed the hollow, soul-departed gaze in Aventurine's eyes and couldn't help but sigh.
This young man just can't take a setback. Two greens, and he's like this? Has he never seen someone go 180 pulls to pity before?
He had to admire his own strong heart. And yet… a faint melancholy crept in. Even… empathy.
"Your luck is very good."
Reading the descriptions, Sylvester said, "The first is a [Memory Bubble of a Starskiff Engineer], containing the professional knowledge of a top Starskiff Engineer. Use it, and you'll instantly master all his skills."
"The second is called a [Master Pokéball]. Throw it at a beast, and it will be captured inside and tamed, with absolute loyalty to you."
"One hundred percent chance to be tamed?!" The man's face was pure joy. Then, hopefully: "Can it work on people too? Humans are animals, right?"
Should I report him to the Realm-Keeping Commission? This guy's giving off antisocial vibes.
Sylvester looked at him blankly. "What do you think? Of course not."
"Shame. I had so many ideas for it." The man shook his head, disappointed.
"But still, quite a harvest." His mood lifted again—these were sure to fetch a fortune.
Especially the [Memory Bubble of a Starskiff Engineer]. It could turn an ordinary man into a top-tier starskiff engineer instantly. The Artisanship Commission would kill to buy one. If he didn't already have a job, he'd use it himself!
Packing up his prizes, he turned to Aventurine and said warmly, "Thanks, kid. You took the bad rolls for me, soaked up the bad luck. Don't be too down—these credits, let's call it Uncle's treat."
Sylvester glanced at the million credits dropped at Aventurine's feet. He really did profit a lot last time, huh.
But to Aventurine, the sight of that million was pure agony.
You can kill a man, but don't you dare kick him while he's down!
His heart shattered, tears welling as he stared at the money.
Slapping his thigh, he burst out: "Boss! Two more trash cans—I'll wash away this disgrace!"
Watching the once-bright, cheerful Aventurine driven into this state, Sylvester felt a pang of guilt.
Maybe… I should help him out this time.