Lucky God System

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?

Probably because his good luck only seemed to apply to him. Disaster followed him like a clingy ghost but never actually touched him—he was the eye of the storm, untouched while chaos swirled around him.

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 everyone who did eat a turkey sandwich came down with violent food poisoning.

Another time, he missed his bus after tripping on a loose shoelace. Mildly frustrating—until he learned that same bus got into a tragic accident ten minutes later.

And then there was the steel beam. A random chunk of metal fell from a construction site he passed by regularly. It missed him by inches.

Stuff like that happened a lot. Almost daily. His family had been worried at first, but they quickly adjusted—after all, he was always fine.

One might say this kind of bad luck was impossible. To which Elias would respond: "Statistically impossible... yet here I am."

The only people who ever seemed immune to the chaos were his family.

At least, until now. 

—

In the small city of Everett Fall, a police detective and a teenage boy sat across from each other in a private room at the police station. It was late summer, and the faint hum of mosquitoes buzzed outside. The air conditioning kept them at bay, along with the worst of the heat.

The teenager, Elias Graves, was about to receive the worst news of his life.

Detective Clifford—a Black man in his late forties with short-cropped hair graying at the temples and a thick mustache—watched the boy closely, his expression marked by quiet concern.

"I'm sorry, son, but we still haven't found your parents. We're doing our best, but there are no leads. It's like they vanished," he said gently, folding his hands on the desk.

The boy's sorrow lingered in the air, despite his efforts to hide it. A messy fringe of dark hair fell over tired gray-blue eyes, shadowed by dark circles. He was better-looking than most and had been nothing but polite throughout their conversations over the past few days—leaving the officer with a quietly favorable 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. 

The scariest part was that they had been well-known and well-loved in their community. Elias's father was a respected university professor of history and archaeology. His students often praised his depth of knowledge and the way he made lessons genuinely engaging. His mother was a local doctor with many loyal patients who admired both her expertise and her warmth. Their sudden disappearance left students and patients alike shocked and deeply distressed.

They regularly donated to charity and were active participants in local events. They were even admired for their good looks—though, admittedly, that was beside the point.

"You doing okay, kid? Sixteen's still pretty young to be on your own. Got any other family that can help out?" the officer asked, offering him a cup of water. He offered a warm smile.

The teen shook his head gently. "No other family. It's just my brother, but he's in the military and currently deployed— he won't return for a while. So… right now it's just me and my twin," he accepted the cup and sipped quietly. He realized too late that his hand was clenching his jeans. He forced it to relax, hoping the officer hadn't noticed.

"I see. That's rough," the officer said, glancing toward the hallway where a young girl sat, wiping her tears. He sighed with sympathy.

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. My sister and I are both sixteen—we're managing, kinda. Social services approved of us living alone while the case is open. It's temporary, but legal. Our parents left us some savings, and our brother's been sending money back whenever he can."

He looked down at the cup in his hands.

"We've got enough to cover stuff. We don't really spend much, and I've saved up a little on my own, too. So... we're fine. Our older brother will probably become our guardian once he returns from deployment." 

He hesitated. "Unless—" His voice caught, tightening.

"Unless Mom and Dad come back before then. I mean… I hope they do."

Officer Clifford gave a knowing nod."If you say so, Elias. Just... don't be afraid to ask if you need anything, alright? You might think you're grown, but sixteen's still a kid. Trust me—I've got one at home," 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, are there no leads?" Her voice was laced with caution.

Elias blinked. "You could hear from down the hall?" He stretched his lips into a line, failing to actually smile.

Eve shook her head and twirled a lock of hair. "I just figured that if it was good news, you would've told me right away." She wiped off a residual tear.

She huffed, trying her best to lift the mood. She forced a small smile. "Let's go back to school tomorrow. I think I'm done crying. It wouldn't be good if I ruined my grades from skipping."

Elias laughed and knocked her head lightly with his knuckles. "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. Get what I mean?"

Eve gave an awkward smile as she rubbed the spot Elias knocked. "That's… not my fault you're a disaster magnet," she managed to cough out, patting her chest.

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 patted her fingers, reassuring her. Eve immediately stuck closer.

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 rang 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. Eve woke up halfway and provided moral support. 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 thought, rubbing his neck in defeat.

He sighed, staring into his plate. "Seriously, where did Mom and Dad go?" he whispered to himself.

---

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."