Prologue: The King of Misfortune
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Adrenaline tore through me like a lightning strike, searing and electric. My lungs begged for mercy, each breath rasping out of my throat like a dying engine. My legs were failing me—burning, trembling—yet still, I ran.
The wind whipped across my face, sharp and cold like the edge of a knife, but it did nothing to cool the fear clinging to my skin like sweat. I could feel it pressing in, suffocating and inescapable.
Something was chasing me.
I didn't know what it was.
But I knew enough to be afraid.
I glanced back, heart caught in my throat. There was nothing there. Just trees, empty road, maybe the echo of my own footsteps.
But I felt it.
A presence.
Heavy.
Ominous.
Relentless.
The ground vibrated with every step, as if something titanic followed just a second behind me. The air grew thicker, harder to inhale, like I was running through syrup. And the sound—God, the sound—those footsteps pounding the earth behind me, steady and closing in.
Panic twisted in my chest like barbed wire.
This was it.
This was how my story ends.
Alone, terrified, mauled to death in the middle of nowhere. A news article no one would read past the headline.
"Mom… Dad…" My voice cracked, raw and shaking. "I love you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to end like this."
I was running on empty now. My limbs were useless rubber. My lungs? Ash. My heart thudded like a sledgehammer against my ribs, trying to escape the horror before me.
I couldn't go any farther. I was done. My body was waving the white flag.
And just when the fear was about to consume me—
Yeah. That's me.
Souta Tetsuya.
Looking like a B-list character in a horror flick, mid-death scene. You're probably asking, "How the hell did this guy end up being chased like some doomed extra?"
Well… allow me to take you back.
Because this?
This kind of thing isn't even surprising anymore.
See, I wasn't born under a lucky star. I was born under a falling satellite.
Ever since the day I showed up on this planet, my life has been a series of unfortunate events so catastrophic they could warrant their own documentary.
Let's rewind to the moment it all began.
It was a stormy Tuesday—because of course it was—and the sky was crying like it already knew what was coming. The delivery room was tense, dramatic, like the climax of a medical drama. And then—bam—I entered the world.
And the doctor delivering me?
Dropped dead.
No, really. Cardiac arrest.
Collapsed mid-push.
His final words?
"Well... that's a wrap."
Tell me that's not the universe giving me a middle finger on Day One.
Rest in peace, Doc. You deserved better.
I guess we both did.
As if that wasn't bad enough, the nurses who took over caught the flu within hours. The entire neonatal ward went into lockdown. I was patient zero. A baby-shaped biohazard.
My dad? Slipped on the hospital floor while rushing to meet me. Broke his leg in three places. Couldn't walk without a cane after that. The man literally limped into fatherhood.
And yet… somehow, they didn't abandon me.
They should have.
But they didn't.
They call it coincidence.
I call it a curse.
Still, through all the disasters and narrowly avoided tragedies, my parents stuck with me. They're the kind of people who believe in silver linings, even if the cloud is on fire and crashing into the Earth.
And then there's my sister.
Reika Tetsuya.
If rage were a person, it'd be her.
Sharp tongue. Piercing glare. Zero tolerance.
She's never liked me. Not once. I was a newborn, couldn't even hold my own head up, and somehow, I had already earned her eternal wrath.
Why?
Because on the day I was born, Reika tripped in front of her longtime crush. Fell flat into a puddle. The guy laughed so hard he cried. She swore off love on the spot, declared romance dead, and blamed me for everything.
Her logic? "You were born, and I fell. Coincidence? I don't think so."
She's been punishing me ever since.
Not with violence. No.
With guilt. With the kind of glares that feel like they strip you down to your soul.
So yeah. That's the family portrait. A father with a cane, a mother with nerves of steel, and a sister who treats me like I personally declared war on her adolescence.
Now—back to the present.
It was supposed to be a simple day.
Sun was out. Birds were chirping. I had earbuds in, playlist humming, groceries to buy. I even thought, "Hey, maybe today won't be so bad."
Big mistake.
I tripped.
Obviously.
But this time? I didn't just scrape a knee.
I stepped on a stray dog's tail.
And that dog?
Not pleased.
It turned, snarled, and lunged like I had personally insulted its ancestors. Teeth bared. Eyes wild.
I froze. My stomach dropped. All blood fled the scene.
Because here's the thing:
I hate dogs.
Not dislike. Not discomfort.
Pure, unfiltered terror.
I can't help it. They're unpredictable fur missiles with fangs.
And when this one bit me—sank its teeth into my leg like it was tasting vengeance—I screamed louder than my dignity could handle.
Then I ran.
I ran like my soul was on fire, like hell was licking at my heels.
And here we are.
Legs failing. Breath gone. Life flashing before my eyes.
All because I tried to buy eggs.
Look, I get it. Some people are chosen by destiny. Me? I was picked by whatever celestial being got drunk and spun a roulette wheel labeled "tragedy."
If fairytales have chosen heroes blessed with miracles and magic…
I'm the glitch in the system.
I never asked for this life.
I never wanted to be a walking disaster.
But here I am.
Bitten. Bleeding. Screaming inside and out.
Another beautiful day in the cursed existence of Souta Tetsuya—
The King of Misfortune.
Damn this world.