(Setting some time after the Mammon campaign, this is the story of Rean’s efforts to find a gift for Olga during his vacation in Yethania.)

“Yay! I pulled it!”

One day, an excited shriek echoed down Yethania’s shopping street. A child immediately broke into a joyful dance, drawing envious glances from nearby kids—and a curious sideways glance from Rean passing by.

Rean wasn’t particularly interested in whatever odd novelty had sparked the commotion. After all, the city had just weathered a crisis, and citizens were celebrating. Merchants naturally flocked to border towns like Yethania.

Still, he couldn’t help wondering what had the kids shrieking with such excitement.

“Hey, kids! What’s got you all worked up?”

Curious, Rean stepped closer. The shrieking child eagerly thrust the newly won item toward him.

“This, big brother! It’s the brand-new hero figurine!”

Rean took a closer look. In the child’s hands sat a small, finely painted wooden carving: a slender man in a red trench coat, crystal-embedded trousers, and a strange mask covering his face…

Uh.

Why did this look so familiar?

He examined it again—then cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

This hero was unmistakably *himself*! Who did this?! Come out and talk!

“What’s wrong, big brother? Wanna try your luck too? Too bad—this is the last one… Wait. Why do you look kinda familiar?”

“N-nothing! I-I just don’t get kids these days… Is winning a tiny statue really *that* exciting…?”

Rean stammered, flustered. The child, who’d briefly noticed the resemblance, pouted unhappily.

“No! Sometimes it’s not about the prize—it’s about the *thrill* of winning! The prize doesn’t matter as long as you win… Ugh, forget it. Every kid in town’s been chasing this figurine. We each spun *multiple* times! You just don’t get it, mister! C’mon, guys!”

Rean was stunned a child so young could spout such philosophy. Since when did the prize not matter?!

Yet as he wandered aimlessly, he had to admit—it *was* just a wooden carving. To someone like him, its deeper meaning was lost.

The kids gathered around their friend and walked off. Rean let out a quiet sigh of relief and wiped his brow.

Phew. Good thing they didn’t recognize him. He’d have been swarmed.

Still… realizing he’d become a hero in their eyes sent a warm, unexpected flicker of pride through his chest.

Well then…

His gaze drifted to the small stall the children had surrounded.

“Hey, boss. What’s this about?”

Approaching, Rean saw only modest trinkets—nothing truly valuable. No hidden treasures, not even many common mana crystals.

“Oh? Such a handsome young man, interested in our lottery too?”

The oddly dressed stall owner leaned in warmly. Rean instinctively stepped back twice—but the man seemed harmless, so he moved closer again.

*Lottery?*

Rean recalled roadside games from his travels: pay to smash egg-shaped containers with a hammer, win whatever’s sealed inside. Usually cheap trinkets meant to amuse kids or tempt hopeful gamblers.

“Are these all the prizes?”

He glanced at the stall items.

“Yep! Spin this box—the bead’s color decides your prize. A guy this handsome must have a girlfriend, right? Try for her! Spin out pink and you win! Fail a hundred times? I’ll give it to you free!”

The stall owner held up a pink crystal bracelet, grinning.

Rean snorted. *Typical flattery. “Handsome guy, gorgeous girlfriend”—what if I’m single?*

…Though, if he *were* buying a gift for someone… Olga’s face flashed in his mind. Lately, he’d grown to trust her more. Maybe it was time to make up for past distance.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Rean said dryly, “but I’ll take the compliment. Price per spin?”

“20 Sam! Ten spins for only 180~”

The vendor’s overly cheerful tone made Rean blink—but he wasn’t fooled by discount tricks for kids and shoppers.

*Discounts?* Rean thought proudly. *The great Rean trusts fate. Watch me win on the first try!*

…

“Another ten spins… No! Twenty!”

He shoved bills into the vendor’s hand. Thirty spins. Zero pink beads.

Cold sweat trickled down his temple as a clear bead rolled out. *What the hell? Am I cursed? Thirty spins and not one pink?! Is there even a pink bead in there?!*

*Should I use magic? Peek inside? Guide one out?*

No. This was about honor. If the Seventh Demon King needed magic for a lottery… what glory remained?

Today, he’d spin a hundred times if he had to—until pink appeared.

“Alright~ Let’s keep spinning!”

The vendor laughed, shaking the wooden box. Beads clattered. Rean’s heart hammered. *Pink… pink… pink… pink…*

“Congratulations~ Green bead wins a small candy box~”

“F***!”