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Prologue
Luck doesn't exist. You can't touch it, put it in your pocket, or tame it. You can't earn it. Lera was absolutely certain of that. She always thought luck was an excuse for those who were simply lucky enough to be born under the right star. Her own star, however, seemed to be under repair. Constantly.
That is why, when He appeared in her life, she could not believe her eyes.

Part 1: Shadow in the Subway
Lera descended into the subway, feeling drained. Another job interview had gone nowhere. "We'll call you back," they told her for the seventh time that month. She knew they wouldn't. The commuter train taking her from Moscow to the suburbs was overflowing with people just like her—tired, worn-out, empty-eyed.
It was in the train car that she first noticed the strange man. He didn't look like an ordinary passenger. He looked too clean, almost sterile. His suit and tie were impeccable, his hands perfectly smooth. But his face… Lera couldn't make out his face. It seemed to float, eluding her gaze. He looked straight at her, and there was nothing in his eyes—no curiosity, no sympathy, only a cold, bottomless emptiness.
She looked away, chalking it up to fatigue and a trick of the light. But the next day he was there again. And again. In the same car, at the same time. He didn't approach, didn't try to speak. He simply watched.
One day, after a particularly humiliating rejection ("You don't have enough experience"—a classic), Lera stood on the platform, barely holding back tears. A stranger approached her. He smelled of ozone, like after a thunderstorm.
"You're unhappy," he said. His voice was quiet, but so clear it drowned out the rumble of the trains. "I can fix it."
“Leave me alone,” Lera muttered, wiping away a traitorous tear with her palm.
— I'm not offering anything bad. Just luck. One drop. Wish for it. Right now.
It was so ridiculous, so absurd, that Lera snorted. "Screw it all. I want to be lucky. Happy?" she thought with bitter irony.
The stranger nodded, as if he had heard her thoughts. "Wish accepted."
He turned and disappeared into the crowd.
The next morning, she received a call. It was the HR manager from the same "frivolous" company where Lera had sent her resume, almost as a joke. "We were impressed by your application," said a cheerful voice. "We just had a unique opening. It's urgent. Can you start tomorrow? The salary is 30 percent higher than you asked for."
Lera hung up, not believing her ears. Coincidence. It must be a coincidence.
But coincidences kept coming one after another. Her boss, stern and unapproachable, suddenly became soft and patronizing. She completed a complex project that the entire team had been struggling with on the first try, having found a mistake no one else had noticed. A piece of plaster fell from the ceiling at a caf;, but bounced off without hitting a hair. And then she won the lottery. Not the jackpot, but a sum equal to three months' salary.
Luck entered her life with a quiet, confident tread. And Lera realized it was no coincidence. It was Him.

Part 2: The Price of Bliss
They met again. He was waiting for her at the metro exit.
"Do you like it?" he asked, his featureless face seeming a little more tangible.
"What are you?" Lera breathed out.
"The one who grants wishes. You could consider me an agent of Luck. But everything has a price."
Lera swallowed. “Which one?”
"Nothing significant. A piece of you. Your... emotional energy. Sadness, disappointment, grief. I need it to exist."
It sounded crazy, but no crazier than everything that had been happening in recent weeks. Lera, intoxicated by a wave of luck, agreed. What did she care about abstract sorrows when her real life was improving before her very eyes?
She made a new wish—career advancement. A month later, she was promoted. She wished for a new apartment—and was incredibly lucky, finding a luxurious one downtown for next to nothing.
But the luckier Lera became, the worse things became. Her colleague, her main competitor for a promotion, was in a serious accident and quit. The owner of that very apartment, a sweet elderly woman, died suddenly of an undiagnosed illness, and her relatives rushed to rent out the place. Lera tried not to dwell on it. "Coincidences," she told herself.
But her own life, despite its outward gloss, was becoming stale. The bright colors of her emotions were fading. She stopped crying over sad movies. A fight with her best friend didn't bring the usual pain, only mild irritation. Even joy became muffled, like the sound from the next room. She was becoming empty. Lucky, successful, and yet a completely empty shell.

Part 3: Mirror for the Monster
The turning point came when her father fell gravely ill. The doctors were at a loss. And Lera, in despair, ran to him.
"Save him! Wish him luck!" she begged.
The stranger shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way. Luck isn’t a cure. I can only steer events in the right direction. For your father to survive, someone else has to be unlucky. The surgeon might falter. The donor organ might not arrive. Are you prepared to pay that price?”
Lera looked at him in horror. She finally understood what she was dealing with. This wasn't a benevolent wizard. This was a parasite, feeding on human misfortune. Her success was built on the bones of others' misfortunes.
"Get out!" she whispered. "I don't want your luck anymore! I refuse!"
For the first time, emotion appeared on his face. A slight smile, cold and lifeless.
"I can't refuse. The contract is made. You have become my guide in this world. The more you use me, the more attached I become to you. Soon I won't need your desires. I will be able to take for myself."
Lera recoiled. She saw in his eyes not emptiness, but an endless, insatiable hunger.
Her father survived. Miraculously. But Lera knew it wasn't a miracle. It was the last straw, a last ditch effort for which someone had to pay.

Part 4: A Game of Luck
She decided to fight. If he feeds on the misfortunes he creates through her good fortune, then he must be deprived of that food. He must turn his own weapons against him.
Lera quit her job. She broke the lease. She gave away all her winnings. She deliberately began to act in illogical, unsuccessful ways. She went to interviews she knew she wasn't qualified for. She invested her energy in projects that were sure to fail. She provoked failure, trying to undermine the stream of good fortune that fueled the Creature.
He was always there, his shadow following her every step.
“Nonsense,” his lifeless voice said in her head. “You only multiply the suffering. Your failures now feed me too. You can’t win. Success and Failure are two sides of the same coin. And I am that coin itself.”
Lera felt like she was going crazy. Her life had become hell. But in this hell, she began to feel again. The sharp, piercing pain of defeat. The bitterness of loss. And with it, the true, unmechanical joy of small things returned—a cup of hot coffee, a smile from a passerby, the warm sun on her face.
She understood his weakness. He was the pure embodiment of probability, emotionless, soulless. His strength lay in people's faith in him. In their willingness to trade their feelings for success.

Part 5: Wish me luck
They stood on a deserted platform at an hour when the metro was no longer running. The very platform where it all began.
“I know who you are,” Lera said. Her voice trembled, but there was steel in it. “You are nothing. Emptiness in a suit. You exist only as long as someone believes you can give them happiness. But you don’t give happiness. You only give the illusion of it.”
"Illusion is all people need," He replied. He became almost transparent. "They prefer a shiny lie to the gray truth."
- Me - no.
Lera took a step forward. She didn't ask for luck. She didn't ask for victory. She simply made her decision. With all its consequences. With all the pain, risk, and uncertainty. She accepted her life as it was—unpredictable, unfair, but HERs.
"I'm not afraid of you anymore. I'm not afraid of failure. Go away."
She looked straight into his empty eyes, putting into that look all her newfound pain, all her fragile but real hope, all her human will.
He swayed. His immaculate suit began to disintegrate like smoke. The faceless mask cracked, revealing that same unremarkable emptiness.
“I wish... you... good luck...” he whispered, and his voice sounded like an echo from a deep well.
And disappeared.

Epilogue
A year passed. Lera was going to job interviews again. Sometimes she was accepted, sometimes not. She rented a small room in an old house on the outskirts. Life was difficult, unpredictable, full of ups and downs.
One evening she was walking down the street when it suddenly started raining. She had no umbrella. She would have been soaked to the skin, but a guy coming out of a caf; suddenly handed her his umbrella.
"Hold on, I'm out of the way!" he shouted and ran away.
Lera stood under someone else's umbrella, watching the fleeing figure, and a smile slowly touched her lips. It was simple, fleeting luck. No magic. No price. Just life.
She raised her face to the sky, feeling the cool raindrops hitting the fabric of the umbrella. She felt everything—the chill of the wind, the sadness of loneliness, and the strange joy of this unfamiliar gesture.
And it was real. It was happiness.