Chapter 1: I'm the Unluckiest Lucky Person Ever
Elias had absurd luck—not the flashy kind, like winning the lottery, but the weird kind. He always won at rock, paper, scissors, found coins exactly when he needed them, and somehow dodged disaster every time it came his way. So why did everyone treat him like a walking bad luck charm?
Well, it was probably because his good luck only seemed to apply to him. Disaster followed him like a clingy ghost but never actually touched him—almost as if he were the eye of the storm. Or maybe, somehow, other people ended up absorbing his bad luck.
Take last week, for example. He was about to grab his usual turkey sandwich in the school cafeteria when a guy cut in front of him and snagged the last one. Elias had been annoyed—until every single person who ate a turkey sandwich that day came down with violent food poisoning.
Another time, he tripped and missed his bus. Annoying, sure. Until he learned that same bus got into a tragic accident ten minutes later.
And then there was the steel beam. A random, falling hunk of metal from a construction site he passed by regularly. It missed him by inches.
Stuff like that happened a lot. Almost on a daily basis. His family was initially very concerned, but they quickly got used to it—after all, he never actually got hurt.
One might think it's impossible for a person to have such bad luck and face near-death experiences every day—but to that, Elias would say, "Statistically impossible, yet here I am."
The only people who ever seemed immune to his disaster-magnet body were his family. At least, until now.
---
"I'm sorry, young man, but we still haven't found your parents. We're doing our best, but there are no leads. It's like they vanished," said a middle-aged officer sympathetically, watching the teenager across the desk.
The boy had a messy fringe of dark hair and tired gray-blue eyes shadowed by dark circles. He looked above average in appearance and had been nothing but polite throughout their conversations over the past few days, leaving the officer with a good impression. It was a pity—his parents' sudden disappearance had clearly taken a toll on him.
The situation made little sense. The parents had vanished without a trace, and nothing indicated they'd left willingly. It didn't appear to be a case of abandonment either—nothing was packed or missing, and friends and neighbors all said the same: they were a happy couple who adored their children.
"Hey, kid. Are you okay without your guardians? You're only sixteen, right? Do you have any other adult relatives who can take care of you?" the officer asked, offering him a cup of water.
The teen shook his head gently. "My parents don't have any living relatives. My older brother is the only adult in the family, but he's in the military. He left on a five-month mission. It's only been two months so far… so right now, it's just me and my younger twin sister." He accepted the cup and sipped quietly.
"I see. That's rough," the officer said, glancing toward the hallway where a young girl sat, wiping her tears.
She shared similar features with the boy, though her face was softer, more delicate—cute, even. Her dark hair was tied up in a ponytail, and her tired blue eyes looked even more dispirited than her brother's. She pouted without realizing it, like it was second nature.
"It's okay, Officer Clifford. Both my sister and I are already sixteen. We're old enough to take care of ourselves, mostly. Our parents were never stingy with giving us money and I have some savings that should last us till our brother returns. That is, if my parents don't return. But I really hope they do," Elias said worriedly.
Officer Clifford gave a sympathetic nod. "If you say so, Elias. Please let us know if you require more help. You two aren't really adults, after all. I have a child your age, so I can't help but worry. He's not as mature as you, though," he said with a chuckle and reached out to ruffle Elias's hair.
The teen blushed slightly but accepted the officer's goodwill.
---
Elias stood up and walked out of the office toward his sister. "Let's go, Eve," he said softly as he looked down at the swirl of her ponytail.
She lifted her head and sniffled. She slowly stood and moved to his side.
As they walked down the hall, she asked, "So no leads?"
Elias blinked. "You could hear from down the hall?"
Eve shook her head and twirled a lock of hair. "I just figured that if there was good news, you would've told me right away."
She huffed, trying her best to lift the mood. She forced a small smile. "Elias, let's go back to school tomorrow. I think I'm done crying. It wouldn't be good if I ruined my grades just from skipping."
Elias laughed. "You're the teacher's pet. You don't need to worry. It's me who should worry—my grades are only a little better than average. And let's not forget I'm affectionately called 'walking disaster.' Not exactly teacher-favorite material, even if the accidents aren't really my fault."
Eve gave an awkward smile. "That's not my fault you're a disaster magnet."
Elias rolled his eyes, and the two continued home in silence, just the quiet sound of their footsteps on pavement filling the space between them.
It was the kind of silence that felt heavy, not from anger or awkwardness, but from shared uncertainty. Neither wanted to say what they were both thinking: what if Mom and Dad never came back?
Eve clung a little closer to Elias's sleeve than usual, and Elias let her. He didn't say anything, but she knew he didn't mind.
The neighborhood around them was too peaceful, too normal. Neighbors chatted, while casually eyeing the siblings and then ignoring them. Somewhere, a dog barked cheerfully. A child trilled his bell as he swiftly passed by on his bicycle. It all felt like a cruel contrast to how wrong everything had become.
---
When they got home, both collapsed into their beds to catch up on some well-needed rest.
The next morning, Elias woke up early to attempt making breakfast. While it wasn't very good—and was slightly burnt—Elias still felt proud of his effort.
"Not bad, for almost no experience cooking," he boasted, nose lifted proudly as he presented the food.
Eve poked her breakfast with a fork like it had wronged her. She took a bite, and her face scrunched in betrayal. Still, she kept eating out of sibling loyalty.
"It tastes like burnt cardboard... with a hint of regret," she said, giving him a crooked grin.
"Hey! I'll have you know that cardboard doesn't cook evenly," Elias replied, faking offense. "This is gourmet garbage."
"You should open a food truck," Eve said with a snort. "Call it 'Dark Cuisine.'"
She took another cautious bite and winced again. "You'd probably get arrested by the food safety department on day one."
Elias deflated. "What can I do? She's the princess of the family, and her tongue's been spoiled by Mom's cooking. Mom never said no to her food requests…"
He sighed, staring into his plate. "Seriously, where did Mom and Dad go?"
---
After breakfast, they got ready for school and headed to the bus stop. As Elias locked the front door, he caught a glimpse of a tall figure out of the corner of his eye near the side of the house. He turned—but saw nothing.
"Must've been seeing things," he muttered, jogging to catch up with Eve.
Unbeknownst to them, a man in dark clothing stepped back into the shadows. He tapped the Bluetooth in his ear and murmured, "I see the targets."
A cold voice replied, "Good. Search the house. The item might still be hidden there. If not, the kids may know where it is. Ideally, we'd retrieve the eldest son—but his location is still unknown."
The dark-clothed man narrowed his eyes at the siblings' backs. "They're just kids. I'll get them to talk."
"Be careful. This isn't the first mission involving those two. They always come out without a scratch. That might've been their parents' protection, but we can't be sure. And don't do anything reckless—we can't afford to alert those people."
The man scoffed. "Relax. I'm a professional."
There was a pause before the voice snapped, "Professional, my ass! I said be discreet! Only use your usual messy tactics if absolutely necessary. You've already screwed up two operations in the last month—don't make it a third! It's me who keeps covering for you, so don't mess this up!" He abruptly hung up the other end of the line.
The dark-clothed man yanked out his earpiece and muttered, "Touchy bastard…"
Still, he couldn't afford another failure. He took a deep breath and focused.
"Discreet, fine," he muttered. "But if these brats make it difficult… all bets are off."