“I don’t belong to the Slave of Destiny,” Roulette agrees. “Finality chose me, not the other way around.”

He redirects his attention to their surroundings. “There’s a red light down there—it might be marking an exit. Perhaps we will achieve stairs.” He flicks a poker chip at the mirror hanging over the red light, shattering it and revealing that it says EXIT. “What luck,” he says mildly.