Page 19 of Against All Odds

90%.

A smile played around my lips. So the guy was afraid of mice. Interesting.

Chance of the server seeing the mouse within the next five minutes.

15%.

Well, not a very perceptive one, this guy. According to Jurrian, it was impossible to influence conscious decisions as these would mess with free will – but not unconscious ones. Like, the chance of this distracted server happening to spot the mouse in the corner of his eye.

Chance of the server seeing the mouse within the next five seconds → increase to 70%.

One thing I’d been good at before I dropped out of school was math, and a quick calculation in my head told me 0.7 x 0.9 = 0.63. Well over sixty percent chance for this guy to drop the plates. Of course, we had to wait on fate to—

Plates clattered on the floor, louder than the man’s yelp. Remains of sauce and chicken bones flew in different directions. A few people around him glanced up as the mouse sprinted off into a hole in the wall. Kyle’s head snapped up, while Raya only clenched the napkin in her fists. She barely seemed to acknowledge what happened around her – I wouldn’t either if I had taken three pills of Ritalin in the last few hours.

I couldn’t help the laugh that left my mouth, though it quickly faded when I noticed the shame and horror on the poor server’s face. Why was I laughing about causing someone else’s misery? What was wrong with me lately? I’d also barely felt any guilt for the driver whose accident I orchestrated, accepting myself as a murderer almost as quickly as I had accepted myself as a swindler in my mortal life.

The server crouched down, scrambling to pick up the broken plates and chicken bones. Though I had caused his uncomfortable situation, it suddenly pissed me off how easily everyone around him turned back to their table conversations – no one even bothered to help him. I tried to think of a way to get their asses moving, but at that moment, the ceiling broke. My eyes widened as a literal waterfall of shit clattered down onto the ground.

Panic arose in the canteen. The good thing about being on this side of the veil was that I could no longer ruin my clothes, but on the downside, being dead did not prevent the stench from infiltrating my nose. I’d always thought fire was the worst smell in the world, but on second thought, maybe the sewer contents – filled with the stench of digested coffee and greasy junk food – topped that.

Lifting my arm to press my nose against my sleeve – which did, unfortunately, nothing for the smell – I zoomed back in on Kyle and Raya to hear their conversation amidst the shouting and clattering chairs.

“It’s literally raining shit.” Raya scrambled to put her stuff in her backpack, but she was trembling so much, Kyle had to help her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Kyle jumped, his hands clawing at his hair as he stared at the growing pool of shit in the midst of the canteen – thankfully, no one was standing underneath the leak. “This is the third time something like this happens when we’re together.”

Raya swung her bag over her shoulder and stared at him, her eyelids trembling from the amount of stimulants in her veins. “What do you mean?”

“Remember last week when I saw you through the glass in the hallway, and I tried to open the door, but the door handle broke?” Kyle excitedly waved his hands as they rushed out of the canteen with the other students, as if this was a fun thriller movie and not a literal shitshow. “And the week before that, my phone suddenly died at seventy percent when I tried to answer your call.”

Raya’s face fell, and I grimaced. I’d been annoyed when he didn’t pick up during her mental breakdown, but now I wondered…

This was all a bit too coincidental.

Most of the students had left the canteen by now, except for those few who were calling the emergency services or filming – of course, we would always have morons among us. My short time as Raya’s guardian angel had taught me that as soon as she left a room, I would be sucked away with her within seconds, so I had to act fast.

I lifted my head to the gaping hole in the cracked ceiling. Most of the shit had been dumped on the floor, leaving splatters all over the tables and chairs. After a brief hesitation, I closed my eyes and called out to the source.

Chance of these pipes breaking at any moment.

0,02%.

So far, made sense. Next question.

Chance of these pipes breaking in the last ten minutes.

49,5%.

Now, I was no sewer expert, but that did not seem right. Unless my math skills and my limited probmanu knowledge had failed me, someone had likely manipulated the chance of the pipes breaking within the last twenty minutes to 99%. Fifty percent chance of it happening in the last ten minutes, fifty percent chance that it happened before – but altogether, almost a certainty.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

I turned instantly at the sharp voice beside me. My head snapped toward the man, but before I could answer, we were both dragged out of the canteen and into the corridor.

Kyle and Raya were talking in agitated voices, oblivious to us. My gaze fixed on the presence who had called out to me.

Dressed in the same distasteful gray robes that I couldn’t physically seem to get rid of, he looked like a normal human – except he was floating just above Kyle, and his body flickered with light translucence. His arms were crossed, his long hair lightly dancing on his shoulders, his face twisted into a displeased frown. For a moment, I was surprised at his age – he seemed to be in his mid-fifties – but then I realized most people didn’t die as young as I had.