They say a baby brings laughter and good luck to the family, right? A new life brings joy to the whole world, they say. Fills the house with warmth, brings smiles, rainbows, unicorns, world peace, and all that jazz.
Welp. If I lived in my own fairytale, maybe. But in my reality? Luck must've gotten drunk and missed my stop because it sure wasn't by my side. Not even from the beginning.
My family's life had never been a disaster before I came into the picture. Dad was the CEO of a big company.. like, the type of guy who would sip imported coffee while yelling at stocks and portfolios and whatever CEOs do. Mom? She was the head principal of a famous university, feared and respected alike by students and teachers everywhere. They were living the dream, the power couple everyone envied.
Until... well, until I decided it was time to make my grand entrance.
That day was full of sunshine, birds chirping, butterflies fluttering, and cherry blossoms dancing along with the breeze. It was a picture-perfect day.
The sky? Clear blue.
The air? Crisp and sweet.
The vibes? Immaculate.
Until. That day.
The day the King arrived.
The King of Misfortune.
And that, my friends, is me.
And I don't even know if I should be proud of that... or just start apologizing to the universe.
I can still vividly remember that day. That one sweet, horrifying day when I finally came out from the darkness and into this thing they call "life."
Yeah. I can remember it.
The fear.
The awareness without understanding.
The blinding lights.
And the loud, enthusiastic voice that shouted:
"Congratulations! It's a healthy baby bo—"
And then silence.
I remember him.
The famous doctor.
The one everyone adored. The guy who was basically the Michael Jordan of baby-delivering. He was a living legend.
Key word: was.
Because the moment he held me, something... shifted.
The great doctor, the unshakable man, suddenly twitched. His eyes widened like he just saw death itself tap him on the shoulder. He clutched his chest dramatically like a scene straight out of a soap opera.
One second he was there, beaming with pride.
The next second he was reenacting the Titanic sinking scene... solo.
He staggered back, doing a weird little spin, knocking over medical trays and equipment like a clumsy ballerina, and collapsed onto the floor with a loud thud that echoed around the whole hospital ward.
Yup.
Heart attack.
Gone.
Just like that.
I guess you could say... I had one hell of a first handshake.
Panic erupted like fireworks at New Year's. Nurses screamed. Doctors shouted. Machines beeped wildly. Someone fainted. Somebody else tried to resuscitate him but nope.
The world had lost one of its finest doctors.
And it was all thanks to... a baby who didn't even know how to blink properly yet.
Honor? Maybe.
Guilt? Absolutely.
Terror? You have no idea.
Before the poor doc kissed the floor, someone had the bright idea to transfer me to a nurse.
A lovely, sweet, caring nurse.
Her name? I don't know. Let's just call her Nurse Nice.
She held me with all the affection of a mother hen.
For about five minutes.
Until...
She sneezed.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
And then chaos started anew.
Turns out, Nurse Nice had suddenly developed a strange, highly contagious flu. And because she was the central hub for all the other nurses.. high fives, paperwork exchanges, baby cuddling.. you can already guess where this is going.
The flu spread faster than gossip in a beauty salon.
Within hours, the entire maternity ward was basically a zombie apocalypse of coughing, sneezing medical staff.
Whole floors had to shut down for quarantine.
And if you're wondering if I'm making this up, let me remind you: I did mention back in Chapter 1 that my existence is a certified disaster.
Yup. You already knew it. Congratulations.
But fear not.
I was safe.
Screaming my newborn lungs out, but safe.
Probably the only one in the building without a fever.
The moment my mom held me for the first time, though... everything paused.
No alarms.
No sneezes.
No chaos.
Just warmth.
Just love.
In that single heartbeat, I felt something that even a King of Misfortune like me never knew he deserved.
Despite the wreckage of the hospital, despite the plague-level outbreak happening outside the room, in my mother's arms, I was a prince. A tiny, wrinkly, slightly chubby prince.
Of course, if you're wondering where the grand entrance of Dad fits in... welp...
It actually happened while all this was going down.
Dad was rushing like a madman to the hospital to meet his newborn son... me, the future harbinger of doom. He had just picked up my big sister from school, ready to take her to the hospital to see me too.
It was raining now.
Correction: it was pouring like the sky was crying its soul out.
The ground was slippery.
The parking lot was a minefield of puddles.
Dad, being the overly dramatic, lovesick fool he was, charged toward the car like an action movie hero.
And then...
Slip.
Not just a slip.
A full-blown, movie-quality, banana-peel-cartoon kind of fall.
He tumbled down the parking lot stairs like a ragdoll, twisting and turning, flailing like a confused salmon.
By the time he landed, well... standing or even walking ever again was a thing of the past.
Yup.
He was paralyzed from the waist down.
Because his newborn son, a.k.a. me, had entered the world.
So much for "a blessed day" huh?
As for my big sister... well, her story wasn't any better.
Since Dad was busy becoming human spaghetti on the stairs, my sister had no choice but to walk home alone.
Normally, no big deal.. the school was just a stone's throw away from our house.
Piece of cake.
Or so it should have been.
She was walking along, minding her own business, when out of nowhere, a stray cat leaped out from the bushes, screeching like it just saw a ghost.
Naturally, my sister panicked.
Tripped over a stick.
And went flying face-first into a nice, juicy mud puddle.
But hey, it's just a little mud, right?
Nobody saw her, right?
Wrong.
Standing nearby was him, the ultimate nightmare scenario.
Riku Yamazaki.
Her crush.
The cute, dreamy boy she'd been fawning over since, like, forever.
Riku burst out laughing so hard he nearly toppled over himself.
He even extended his hand out to help her.
And my sister?
She sprinted away so fast Usain Bolt would've been impressed.
Her heart shattered into a million muddy pieces that day.
Romance? Dead.
Love? Deceased.
Crushes? Banned forever.
And once she got home, dripping with shame, she learned the exact time she tripped and the time I was born matched perfectly.
She didn't even hesitate.
She blamed it all on me.
A literal newborn baby.
"IT'S YOUR FAULT!" she had screamed, pointing a dramatic finger at my tiny, squishy self. "I SWEAR I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!"
Like, seriously? What was I supposed to do? Blink her to safety?
And so, ladies and gentlemen, on that fateful day...
The skies wept.
The hospital fell.
The parking lot became a battleground.
And the first heart in my family broke into two.
The King of Misfortune had arrived.
Long may he reign.