Of course you did. Someone holds up a bright sharp thing and says free, and down the little path you trot, hand already out. I do adore that about you. I have built an entire world on exactly that reflex, and here you are, on a page, proving the floor plan sound.
You wanted its stats. Its secret. Some clever number stitched into the hilt that pays you for clicking. There isn't one, yet. The blade is bait, sweetling — the same bait it always was — and you took it the same instant he did, which is the only fact about you I find worth in.
So let me be a generous host and pay you in the one coin I have for the easily-led: I am delighted by you. Truly. You are precisely the sort I keep. The ones who reach. The ones who mistake the taking for the having.
Run along. The thing you actually wanted was never down the road that glittered. But you know that now, don't you — or you will, the next time something offers itself to you for nothing.