Lucky God System

Chapter 22: Mother Knows Best

At a quiet coffee shop, a young man accepted an envelope from the middle-aged owner. The air was rich with the bitter scent of coffee, mingling with the warm aroma of freshly baked bread and sweet frosting.

The owner gave his mustache a thoughtful twirl.

"Here's your paycheck for the past two weeks. You've done a great job. If you ever want to come back, just let me know, Syler."

He patted Syler's shoulder with a leathery, sun-worn hand. Syler flinched slightly—but not enough for the owner to notice.

"Thanks, Mr. Plăgaru," Syler said with a polite smile.

That smile hit Mr. Plăgaru right in the chest. He felt a strange pang of envy—not toward Syler, but toward his parents.

Wasn't this kid the kind of son every man dreamed of? Polite, hardworking, considerate.

His own sons—God help them—were nothing like that. He loved them, of course, but all they did was eat, gamble, and ask for money.

Why was it that a man who had worked so hard to climb the ladder ended up with nothing but disappointment?

He had never met Syler's actual parents, but he had met Syler's grandmother—Ms. Loveri, a fellow Romanian immigrant like him. Syler seemed to have inherited her temperament. The only person he could really direct his envy toward… was her.

Without thinking, he reached out and gave Syler's head a gentle pat, even ruffling his hair a bit—getting slightly carried away.

Syler froze for a moment, instinctively bracing himself. Then, as if nothing had happened, he relaxed again.

Plăgaru paused, a thought striking him. He headed into the back kitchen, opened the fridge, and returned with a small grocery bag. He handed it to Syler.

"Some strudel. You and your grandmother both like sweets, right? Take it with you."

Syler's lips trembled slightly as a wave of emotion rose in his chest. He lowered his head to hide the redness creeping into his eyes.

"Thanks for everything, Mr. Plăgaru," he said, managing to keep his voice steady.

Mr. Plăgaru let out a hearty laugh and gave Syler a few firm pats on the back.

"So stiff, so serious. You really need to loosen up, kid. But listen—come back anytime, even if it's just to grab a few sweets. Got it?"

Syler gathered himself enough to lift his head and smile. He turned and stepped out of the shop. The little bells above the door jingled softly as it closed behind him.

Mr. Plăgaru stroked his beard, watching through the glass as Syler disappeared down the street. He sighed, then turned back to his work.

—-

Syler arrived at a small, modest house with soft orange walls and a brown roof. Though simple, it was charming—decorated with neatly arranged flowers and potted plants that were clearly well cared for. The whole place radiated a warm, cozy vibe. He paused to water one of the plants by the door, then stepped inside.

The interior was just as inviting. Though compact, it was tidy and decorated in warm hues of red, orange, and brown, with green houseplants adding a fresh touch of life to the space.

"Bibi?" he called, looking around for his grandmother. There was no reply.

Syler glanced down at the bag of strudel in his hands before gently placing it on the table.

His grandmother was probably out visiting neighbors or spending time with friends.

But then—he heard something.

A rustling sound. The soft thud of objects being moved around in his bedroom.

His eyes narrowed.

"Bibi?" he called, stepping cautiously toward the door.

It was slightly ajar—though he'd clearly closed it that morning.

His grandmother never entered his room without asking.

So who was inside?

He pushed the door open slowly.

The room, which had been clean and organized that morning, was now a disaster. Drawers left open, clothes strewn across the floor, shelves half-emptied. It looked like someone had ransacked the place.

Then he saw her.

A woman—probably in her early thirties—stood amid the mess.

She had pale skin, delicate features, and hauntingly familiar eyes. Eyes just like his.

She wore a once-expensive casual dress, its fabric faded and sagging with age.

"Oh," she said flatly, glancing at him before going right back to rummaging through his things like they belonged to her.

Syler's nails dug into his palm.

"Mom," he said tightly, voice trembling with anger. "What are you doing here?"

Because yes—this woman tearing through his bedroom was none other than his mother, Georgia Frost.

She turned to him, her face barely masking irritation.

"Nothing," she said. "Just looking for a little money. I'll pay you back."

Syler's voice cracked.

"You say that every time."

Georgia rolled her eyes and sighed with exaggerated frustration.

"Is that an attitude toward your own mother? So what if I don't pay you back? I gave birth to you. That counts for something, doesn't it?"

Her eyes flicked toward the envelope still clutched in his hand.

Without asking, she marched over and snatched it from him.

"Just what I was looking for," she muttered, tearing it open and thumbing through the bills.

"Tch. Only two-fifty? Well, I guess it's barely enough."

She spoke more to herself than to him—completely ignoring the hurt twisting across Syler's face.

Why did it have to be her?

Why did he have to end up with a mother like this?

What had he done in a past life to deserve her?

"That's for my school tuition," he said, voice cracking again.

Georgia shrugged.

"Your grandma's paying for that. What's the big deal? If you really wanted to help her out, you'd just switch to a free public school. Honestly, I don't even get why you're still going to that fancy place. Your brother's there and you two don't even get along. So why bother?"

She leaned her hip against his desk, flicking her long brown hair over her shoulder.

Syler dropped his gaze, jaw clenched.

"There's more than just Kevin there. The education is better—and that's where both my friends are."

Georgia scoffed.

"So what? You can always make more friends. And public schools aren't necessarily worse."

She was halfway out the door with the money when an old, withered hand snatched the envelope from hers.

"I only stepped next door for a minute," came a sharp voice, "so I didn't lock up. It's a safe neighborhood—or so I thought. But I guess next time, even a short visit needs a lock."

Standing in the doorway was Zora Lovari, Syler's grandmother.

Her wrinkled face was stern, her stance solid. She was broad-shouldered, heavyset, and walked with a wide gait. A steel ladle hung from her hand like a threat.

"Leave," she said, pointing to the open front door, "before I call the police for trespassing and theft."

Georgia didn't say a word. She simply huffed and walked out, empty-handed.

Zora turned to her grandson, whose tears were now silently streaking down his face.

She sighed and gently placed the money back in his hand.

"My dear child," she said softly, wiping his cheeks, "don't cry. Here—put this somewhere safe. Save it for yourself, okay?"

She cupped his face tenderly.

"Your Bibi can still pay for your school. You don't need to work so hard. Just focus on doing well. And next time that woman sneaks in… call the police first, alright?"

Then she raised her ladle with mock seriousness and flexed her arm, striking a comical pose.

"That'll teach that foolish woman a lesson."

She pulled Syler into a hug, resting his head against her shoulder as her fingers gently combed through his soft hair. She began to hum a quiet folk tune, the sound low and soothing.

"Child," she whispered with a sigh, "you really need to learn to open up—and stand up for yourself."

Syler just trembled and cried into her shoulder. He didn't make a sound. If not for the sudden dampness on her blouse, she might not have even known.

Her soft humming drifted through the quiet house as she held her precious grandson close.

—-

At the Takayama residence, it was nighttime. The crescent moon hung dimly in the sky above the various estates. Inside one of them, a teenage girl slept while leaning against her mother's bed.

Mina's eyes were ringed with faint dark circles, and her complexion was pale from exhaustion. She had spent the entire night caring for her mother, Masami—and Masami hadn't made it easy. She had thrown things in anger and vomited nearly everything Mina tried to feed her. She would've yelled too, if she weren't too weak to raise her voice.

Technically, the maid could have handled all of it, but Mina insisted on staying by her mother's side—no matter what. Even if it meant facing her mother at her ugliest.

It was nearly 2 a.m. when Mina stirred at the warm, soft sensation of fingers gently running through her hair. It was a familiar gesture—one she had felt countless times while falling asleep as a child.

She slowly opened her eyes and turned her head toward the hand's owner.

Her mother lay on the pillow, gazing at her with a gentle smile and warm black eyes. It was the smile Mina had known in her childhood—the first time she had seen it again since returning home.

Mina's eyes stung as tears welled up.

"Mom," she choked out.

Masami reached up and stroked her daughter's face with a trembling hand.

"Mina… I'm sorry," she whispered. "It must've been hard, taking care of me these past few weeks… right?"

Mina cupped her hand over her mother's and pressed it to her cheek.

"No. It's not hard, Mom. I—I just missed you," she said, her voice cracking as she wiped her tears with her free hand.

Until now, her mother had felt like a stranger. And while Mina had done her best to endure it, seeing her in that condition had been quietly tearing her heart apart. Though Masami remained skeletal, her complexion looked rosier than before, and her mental clarity had improved noticeably.

"I haven't asked at all, Mina, but… how have you been these past three years? Of course, I've heard everything over the phone—but I'd really love to hear your stories in person," her mother said, gently squeezing Mina's hand.

Mina smiled and wiped her tears again before beginning to tell her mother about her time away from home. Masami listened quietly, occasionally interjecting with a short comment or question.

After about twenty minutes, her mother asked, "So… you have close friends? Elias and Syler? They sound like nice boys. I'm glad you found good people while you were away."

She paused, and a faint, teasing glint appeared in her eyes.

"I'm quite surprised you ended up at the same school as that boy. He's the one who comforted you when your grandfather tried to arrange that marriage, isn't he? The one you met when you ran away from home that one time? You must like him a lot," Masami said knowingly, watching as Mina's face turned bright red.

"I—It's not that serious, Mom," Mina mumbled, flustered.

Masami laughed softly. "You can't lie to your mother. I know you too well," she said, pinching Mina's pink cheeks before gently cupping her daughter's face in both hands.

"How could I not notice the people and things you love?" she whispered, pulling Mina into a warm embrace. Mina nestled beside her, and Masami gently rubbed soothing circles on her back.

"As long as he's a good young man, I don't object," her mother murmured. But then her tone grew slightly firmer.

"Still, Mina—no matter what, I want you to be careful, alright? Love outside of arranged marriage can be just as painful if you're not cautious," she said, gently tapping Mina's forehead with her thumb.

"You tend to idealize your relationships… like you did with your father, or your grandfather," she added, tucking a strand of Mina's hair behind her ear. "And while being idealistic isn't necessarily a bad thing, too much of it will only lead to pain. I just don't want you to get hurt the way I did."

A shadow passed over her face, her expression growing bitter and complicated.

"Live a happier, fuller life than I've had. Don't end up like me—stuck in bed with failing health, still clinging to the tiniest hope that your father might one day actually care," she said, clutching tightly to the hem of Mina's shirt.

Her gaze drifted toward the faint crescent moon visible through the window. Aside from her children, she had truly lived her life as a fool. She wished she had possessed her daughter's bravery—her fire. Maybe then, she could have finally told Banri off… or let go of the feelings she'd held onto for so long.

Honestly, why had she fallen for a man like that?

Was it his spirit of rebellion—the very thing she had always suppressed in herself?

Maybe part of her love for him had come from envy.

Maybe she had loved him because he could say what he wanted out loud, while she had only ever swallowed her words.

She clutched her chest, her fingers resting over her weak heartbeat.

There was a moment of silence. Then Mina pulled away slightly and nodded with quiet seriousness.

"Don't worry, Mom. I'll be careful. He's nothing like Dad," she said, flashing a bright, reassuring grin.

Her mother chuckled softly at her daughter's expression.

"I hope so. Just remember—your mother loves you and your brother with all her heart. You're my precious babies," she said softly, lying down with Mina in her arms.

Mina nestled beside her on the bed, resting her head on her mom's shoulder.

After a moment of silence, Mina murmured, "I love you, Mom."

This time, there wasn't a reply.

After a few more seconds of silence, Mina lifted her head to look at her mother's face. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth was curved in a peaceful smile.

"Mom?" she asked.

Still no response.

She pressed her ear to Masami's chest.

There was no faint heartbeat. No soft breathing. Nothing.

After a long pause, two quiet tears slid down her cheeks as she gently ran her fingers through her mom's hair.

"Sweet dreams, Mom. Please dream of Kaoru and me," she whispered, laying her head back on Masami's shoulder.

Clouds drifted across the crescent moon, smothering its light and drenching the room in darkness.

Soft sobs filled the silence as a sixteen-year-old girl clung to the last bit of her mother's warmth.