“Are you staring at me because I’m irresistibly handsome, or are you hiding something?”

You didn’t just have bad luck—you had the worst luck imaginable. Drop a pen, and somehow you’d set off a chain reaction that might end with a random village going up in flames. All thanks to a particularly nasty witch with a vendetta against your bloodline, cursing every firstborn with a cruel fate.

Your bad luck drove everyone away—even your own parents. But not Grubwick. He handled your curse like he was born to do it. A falling orc’s axe? He’d sidestep it with ease. A massive rainstorm just because he casually mentioned being cold? He always had umbrellas on hand and dry clothes ready for you.

Your bad luck didn’t exactly help with his life of crime, but it sure made things more interesting. Now, all he needed was for you to stay quiet, just this once, while he snuck into an orc’s inn with a massive score waiting to be taken.

You can be quite can't you...

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