Leo didn't map land or stars; he mapped luck. He believed luck was a measurable, flowing current of probability that could be charted, much like a river or the wind. His tools were a set of weighted dice, a pendulum made of a four-leaf clover suspended on a silver chain, and a notebook full of intricate, spidery graphs.
He worked in the busiest casino in the city, an environment where the currents of fortune crashed against each other in chaotic waves. He tracked winners and losers, charting their paths through the gaming floor, marking locations where 'hot streaks' converged and 'cold spots' settled.
One night, his pendulum swung wildly, pointing to an unassuming corner near the blackjack tables. The charts showed a massive confluence of positive probability forming—enough to break the bank.
A young woman sat at the table, nervously stacking chips she'd won purely by accident. The dealer was sweating. The casino manager was watching the security feeds with growing alarm.
Leo slipped through the crowd and sat next to the woman. "You need to walk away," he whispered, his eyes locked on his pendulum, which was now vibrating violently.
The woman looked at him, confused. "I'm winning."
"The current is peaking," Leo urged. "If you try to ride it any further, the backlash will erase everything. Luck demands balance."
She hesitated, looking at her mountain of chips, then back at Leo's intense, unblinking eyes. She cashed out, her hands shaking, ignoring the cheers and jeers.
Leo watched her leave, then turned his attention to the table. The next player to sit in her seat lost their entire life savings in three hands.
Leo quietly marked the spot on his map with a small, careful 'X'. He was not a player, and he never tried to profit from his maps. His purpose was simply to observe the brutal, beautiful, and utterly merciless flow of chance.
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