Tarot Poker: Why Bother Guarding Against an Idiot?

In 2041, the Tower of the End descended. Seven billion people were dragged into infinite instances, each with a card on the back of their hand. Playing cards summon demons; tarot cards govern the rules. Clear an instance and live; fail and die. Cardholders can kill one another to steal cards, and the tower forbids nothing.

Shi Hen drew three cards: the King of Spades can erase any existence, the Joker can make every rule glitch, and the last is a World card that is beginning to awaken. The only person in the whole tower with three cards, he was at his peak from the start.

But the guy is a lunatic. He hums “Good Luck” while chatting with BOSSes in instances, negotiates deals with a packet of candy, and smiles at everyone like he hasn't a care in the world. Ji Yao thinks he's a reliable teammate; Huo Zheng thinks he's a fine weapon. Nobody knows his smile is calculated: how long he smiles and how many teeth he shows are all rehearsed down to the second. At twelve, at his parents' funeral, he wondered whether the cafeteria's braised pork would get cold. It took him ten years to learn how to smile like a normal person.

Now monsters, demons, and the seventy-two demon gods run rampant through the tower. But the one who truly unsettles them is this grinning human who strolls by. By the time he calls you brother, he's already figured out everything useful you have. When he smiles and says, “It's a pleasure doing business,” he's already worked out his next three moves. In his hands, every card is a chess piece, not a weapon.

And he'll smile as he plays every move, then tell you: Don't worry, I'm just a fool with unusually good luck.