Rick lay in his bedroom at the Wilson household, twirling a white feather between his fingers. This feather was a cursed object he had acquired before signing the contract with Zoey. By soaking it in someone's blood, he could absorb their luck.
Over time, Rick had learned how to master the *God of the Culinary Arts* skill. He understood the nuances: luck was about making things fall into place, like getting high-quality equipment or useful items. But fortune—fortune was something else entirely. It gave more options, often unseen. While luck might push you toward the best of three choices, fortune would create a fourth or fifth, better option out of thin air.
The difference was immense, and stealing someone's fortune not only brought good things to the thief but left the victim drowning in misfortune.
Rick was torn.
Undoubtedly, the one he hated most was the person who stole his attributes and Divine Gift. But second place went to Zoey...