The notification arrived unexpectedly while Dominic was comfortably making a cup of tea in his small, cluttered kitchen.

He sensed it first, a sudden warmth ignited within the bond thread that connected him to Florence. Unlike Theresa’s, which resonated steadily and familiarly like a gentle hum in the background, Florence’s bond was newer, more unpredictable; its energy danced and crackled with vitality.

Now, that crackling had become more intense, tinged with something fresh and exhilarating, signaling a new development.

```

[BOND MATURATION — FLORENCE MARK]

[BOND LEVEL 1 ACHIEVED]

[THE ANOINTED DEMON OF WAR ACKNOWLEDGES YOU]

[MINOR POWER SHARING UNLOCKED]

[NOTE: SINCE SHE’S GOING TO CONTINUE CALLING YOU MASTER, WHY NOT PLAY INTO IT?]

```

He read the same page twice, the ink blurring slightly with his damp fingertips. Steam rose lazily from his ceramic cup, forgotten in his hand as he stared into its swirling surface.

Through the thread, he sensed her presence, the subtle, sharp focus of her attention, now fixed intently on a movement in the courtyard.

The back door swung open with a soft creak, revealing Florence. She stood there mid-stretch, one arm lifted high toward the ceiling, muscles tensing. Sweat darkened the fabric of her simple tunic, which clung to her skin. Her hair was pulled back into a haphazard ponytail, loose strands falling around her face and shoulders. She met his eyes with a hint of urgency.

"It seems the connection between us has grown," she said. Light tone, sharp eyes reading him and the new thread between them.

"Looks like it."

"Took you long enough."

"I wasn’t the one who needed to do the acknowledging."

She dropped her arm. A slow, satisfied grin spread across her face—pure Florence.

"Semantics, Master, but you’ve earned it." She turned back toward the courtyard. "Don’t let it go to your head, though."

"What? I thought you’d enjoy getting into my head."

She laughed, short and bright, a clear chime that echoed lightly as she already stepped halfway out the door. The sound lingered in the warm air after she had gone.

Dominic picked up his tea, the warmth of the mug grounding him. Two threads now hummed in his chest, two women from destroyed worlds who had chosen to stay, their presence both comforting and burdensome.

He didn’t know what to do with that realization yet. So he drank the tea slowly, letting the gentle heat seep into his bones and settle the storm in his mind.

***

The apartment remained quiet, a peaceful lull between the morning routines and the unpredictable flow of the day ahead. Theresa had entered the study an hour earlier, the soft click of the lock signaling her departure, a gentle finality. Florence had made a dismissive face but chose to leave it be. Wobbly, with a faintly glowing surface, rotated slowly on the main room floor, its steady light emanating a calming, contented aura.

Dominic sat at the sleek, minimalist table and activated the system interface, its holographic panels materializing seamlessly in midair.

Clean panels floated effortlessly, shimmering softly as they awaited commands. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

```

[INFINITE GACHA SYSTEM — ACTIVE]

[CURRENT GT TOKENS: 800]

[NEXT PULL: 500 GT TOKENS]

[PITY COUNTER: 0/40]

[SHOP TIER 2: AVAILABLE]

[CURRENT BANNER: NONE — BASE RATES ACTIVE]

```

The rates didn’t quite meet our expectations. He had already reviewed them earlier that day, and they still appeared somewhat disappointing, lacking the impact we were aiming for.

The SSS rating, at 0.8 percent, was the highest achievable, comparable to winning an esteemed prize: a resilient heroine emerging from a shattered world, embodying strength, endurance, and an unbreakable spirit.

The next was 3.2 percent at the SS rating signified legendary gear, an exceptionally rare and highly coveted treasure that only a select few adventurers could aspire to uncover. All other ratings were below these already impressive benchmarks, highlighting their relative rarity and importance.

He kept his gaze fixed on the numbers as Florence suddenly plopped down onto the couch beside him. She nudged his shoulder playfully and leaned in closer, now able to see the interface clearly after their bond level had been upgraded.

"You’re going to gamble," she said.

"I’m going to make a calculated decision."

"Same thing." She smelled like sweat, fresh air, and the herbal soap from her wash. "What’s the rate for the good stuff?"

"0.8 percent."

She turned her head. Their faces were inches apart. "That’s awful."

"I know."

"So you’re going to do it anyway."

He paused, eyeing the remaining three hundred tokens after a single pull. Not nearly enough for another attempt. The pity counter edged up to one; that was all.

Yet, the system had a voice. It seemed to enjoy watching him attempt, almost alive. An instinct within him urged him to use it. Keep it awake. Keep it interesting.

"Yes," he said. "I’m going to do it."

Florence held his gaze, then grinned. "That’s my Master."

Theresa arrived silently in the study doorway, having unlocked the door without a sound. A cup of tea rested in her hand. She knew the odds. She chose to say nothing.

Her trust in him was steady.

The air grew thick, charged like the moment before a storm. Dominic’s finger hovered. Through the bond, he felt Florence’s pulse spike in sync with his own, while Theresa’s remained a deep, anchoring river.

The interface answered at once.

```

[PULL INITIATED]

[BASE RATES ACTIVE]

[COST: 500 GT TOKENS]

[GT TOKENS REMAINING: 300]

[PULLING...]

```

The light didn’t gather softly. It cracked.

A silver-edged seam tore through the air above the table, sharp and sudden. The sound scraped as steel dragged across stone. The lantern flame bent away from the rift as if trying to escape. The temperature dropped fast enough that Dominic felt it in his teeth.

Both bond threads flared. Through Theresa’s, a steady warmth. Through Florence’s, a sharp crackle. Florence’s attention locked onto the rift with the same intensity she brought to a fight she was about to win.

Wobbly collapsed onto the floor, suddenly perfectly still. Its once gentle wobble ceased completely, the faint glow of its body flickering softly, an unreadable expression fixed on its face.

The rift spat out a small object and slammed shut with a sound like a door kicked closed.

The object landed on the table. Rolled once. Stopped.

It was a bow. A tiny, bright pink, completely absurd bow. Sized for something with the approximate dimensions of a loaf of bread.

```

[PULL COMPLETE]

[RESULT: B-RANK — MINOR COSMETIC ACCESSORY]

[DESCRIPTION: A BOW. FOR THE SLIME. YOU’RE WELCOME.]

[PITY COUNTER: 1/40]

[GT TOKENS REMAINING: 300]

[NOTE: THE SYSTEM APOLOGIZES FOR NOTHING.]

[ADDITIONAL NOTE: IT GENUINELY ENJOYED THAT. PLEASE PULL AGAIN SOON.]

```

Silence.

Dominic gazed at the bow resting on the table as Wobbly looked on. With a slow, careful movement, Wobbly nudged forward, and suddenly the bow was no longer on the table; it was perched, slightly tilted, on Wobbly, shining brightly and undeniably pink. The sentient jelly now had better drip than he did. The universe had jokes.

Wobbly gave a little wobble, and the bow bobbed along, completely unbothered by any need for permission.

Florence reached her breaking point.

Instead of laughing, she let out a loud, hearty howl. She bent forward, her hand supporting herself on the table, while her other hand pressed gently against her ribs where the angel had once cracked them. Her laughter echoed through the apartment, bouncing from wall to wall and filling the space with joy.

"Five hundred tokens," she gasped. "For a bow. For the slime."

"It’s not a slime," Dominic said. His voice was flat.

"It’s got an accessory, Master. It’s accessorizing. The system dressed your summon." She said, still laughing. "Isn’t that nice?"

Wobbly wobbled again with immense dignity, the movements deliberate yet slightly unsteady. The bow bobbed gracefully, its gentle arc emphasizing the character’s poised demeanor. Florence, caught in the moment, suddenly lost her breath entirely and collapsed backward onto the plush, velvety couch, one arm draping over her face while still laughing uncontrollably.

Theresa remained still at the doorway, holding her delicate tea cup lightly between her fingers. Her expression appeared calm and carefully composed, yet her eyes sparkled with lively mischief.

"It’s a good color," she said quietly.

Dominic turned to her. "Whose side are you on?"

"No one’s. I’m just observing."

"You’re enjoying this."

"I didn’t say that."

"You didn’t deny it either."

She took a sip of her tea. Her eyes were still bright. "No. I didn’t."

Florence, from the couch, still catching her breath: "This is the best thing that could ever happen."

Dominic closed the system interface. Three hundred tokens remained. The pity counter sat at one out of forty. The bow sat on Wobbly’s head as it had always been there.

"Ha ha. Florence, we’ve had our laugh now, let’s let it go," Dominic said.

"I’m never letting this go," Florence said. "Even at your funeral, I will bring up the bow."

"There won’t be a funeral."

"Not with that attitude."

He stood, picked up his cold tea, and walked away drinking it anyway.