Good Luck or Bad Luck

They say love holds power unlike anything else in this world.

A true, pure love can defy death itself… and call someone back from the deepest pits of hell.

But… does every love story end happily ever after?

Sometimes, we pour our entire soul into someone—only to realize they were never meant to stay.

And yet… we keep them inside us—unchanged, unforgotten—in the name of our first love.

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Author :-

Hello my name is Shyni Aie.

And this is a tale woven from fantasy, horror, and romance—a story where beauty and darkness dance together,

and love… might just be the most dangerous magic of all.

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The Year 1987

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The orphanage where I grew up was small, cold, and full of whispers.

No one called me “child” or “dear.” I was the ghost girl, the cursed witch—

a face that could ruin a day.

The others left, one by one, carried away by smiling new families.

I remained.

Even the caretakers’ glances cut deeper than words,

as if my very presence stained the air with bad luck.

But that year… something shifted.

A miracle—if one could call it that—arrived in a sealed envelope.

Santella Academy.

A school cloaked in mystery, its name spoken in hushed reverence.

They said its graduates were destined for power, wealth, and influence.

I was not rich, nor brilliant, nor athletic.

I had only one gift—painting.

If beauty existed before me, I could trap it on canvas:

every shadow, every glimmer, every breath.

And somehow… Santella chose me for a scholarship student.

I still don’t know why.

Perhaps it was God’s hand.

Or perhaps… something else entirely.

I remember the day I left.

A single, battered suitcase in hand,

I stood in the orphanage yard and whispered to myself,

“Where will my fate lead me?”

For the first time in my life, I boarded a train—alone—bound for Tokyo.

I imagined a city of endless lights and labyrinthine streets…

a future I’d been told I would never deserve.

My parents had died in an accident just after my birth.

My remaining relatives, calling me a bringer of misfortune,

cast me away to the orphanage.

I avoided mirrors for years.

I didn’t need to be reminded why people feared my face.

Once, I heard the caretaker mutter,

“This girl is the embodiment of bad luck. Just seeing her ruins my day.”

I believed her.

And I made sure to keep my distance from everyone.

But one winter night, fire consumed the village church.

Through the smoke and screaming,

I carried a small girl into the cold air outside.

Her parents called me “savior.”

The priest took my soot-stained hand and said,

"Child, no one is born cursed. Misfortune is only the shadow of time.

The past cannot be undone, but the future… the future belongs to you.

Stop hating yourself. You are special—both to God… and to this world."

Those words lodged deep inside me.

For the first time, I wondered—

what if the curse was never real?

When I learned about Santella Academy—a place where graduates were handpicked for government service—I dared to try.

Admission was impossible for most.

First, one had to pass an unforgiving exam.

Then, the academy itself had to invite you.

With trembling hands, I sent my application and my finest paintings.

The day the letter arrived, my breath caught—

“Congratulations. You have passed the entrance examination. Welcome to Santella Academy.”

And so… my fate began to shift.

The train rattled through the night like an old beast dragging itself through forgotten dreams. Shizumi slept, cradled in the rhythmic clatter, her breath warm against the frosted window. By dawn, the sky was a pale bruised gold, and the train exhaled her into the crisp air of an unfamiliar city.

When the train finally reached the city,

She stepped onto the platform and froze.

The world here felt alive—

its colors are sharper, its air heavier.

She walked until the academy rose before her—an impossible vision. Its towering spires pierced the clouds, gilded light spilling over marble walls as if this were a palace for kings and Queens, not a place of learning.

Her lips curved into a bright, unguarded smile.

"Oh my God… is this an academy or the royal palace itself? You only see this in newspapers and on TV! Come on, Shizumi… today’s your lucky day. Everything changes from here. You’ll find friends. You’ll belong."

With that hopeful whisper.

Each step toward Santella made my heart pound with a strange mixture of excitement… and dread.

Was I truly worthy?

Or was I still the unwanted child in the corner of the orphanage?

But the moment her foot crossed the academy’s gates—

a chill unlike any winter wind curled around her spine.

That’s when the sky darkened.

A shrill chorus split the morning—dozens, no, hundreds of crows burst from the surrounding trees, swirling overhead like a black storm given wings. Their cries were not random; they were sharp, purposeful, almost words. The air grew heavy, as though the world itself was holding its breath.

Shizumi flinched.

"What is… this feeling? It’s like something unseen is pressing against my skin. Am I the only one… or has the entire air shifted?"

She wasn’t alone. Four others within the academy froze as the same cold touch swept over them.

[Principal’s Office]

The principal’s hands trembled around a porcelain teacup.

"No… it can’t be." Her voice was barely a breath. "This atmosphere… it’s the same as thirty-seven years ago."

Her eyes—old, clouded, and haunted—drifted toward a portrait on the wall: her father, the previous principal.

"Back then, under my father’s watch, the academy nearly fell into ruin. Darkness walked these halls. So many… incidents. I have spent my life restoring this place to its glory. But if history is repeating…"

She stood abruptly, knuckles whitening on the desk.

"No. I will not let this academy fall again. Not while I breathe."

Elsewhere, two students—faces unseen—paused mid-step as the same strange aura coiled around them. They wore the academy’s pristine uniforms, but their eyes were far from ordinary.

From the shadows of the courtyard, one watched Shizumi at the gate. His gaze lingered, knowing. His lips curved in a slow, unreadable smile.

"It begins. The door that has been ajar for thirty-seven years… will be closed. But not without sacrifice."

The second student murmured under his breath,

"What’s happening…? Why does the air taste like fear?"

Far from the bustle of the main grounds, hidden deep within a forest of rotting trees, stood the remains of an old school building. Its gate bore a rusted lock wrapped in dozens of faded talismans. Each paper charm trembled, as if something was strained against them.

Inside, darkness pooled thick enough to drink. A boy wearing a grotesque mask knelt before a bowl of enchanted water, images rippling across its surface—images of Shizumi. His laughter was jagged, unnatural.

"Finally… after thirty-seven years, my free—"

A pair of crimson eyes flared open in the shadows.

"Yours?" a voice hissed.

The masked boy recoiled, then laughed mockingly,

"BOOOO! Ours, then… our freedom key."

Unaware of the web tightening around her, Shizumi skirted the restless crows and stepped inside the academy grounds.

"First things first… the principal’s office. But where is it? Maybe I should ask someone—huh?"

A loud commotion drew her attention. Students had gathered in a dense crowd, their voices bubbling with excitement. Her curiosity got the better of her. She pushed through, but as she reached the center, her shoulder slammed into someone.

She stumbled, grabbing for the nearest thing to stop her fall—fabric. Still, she crashed to the ground with a small gasp.

The noise vanished. An eerie silence spread through the crowd.

Rubbing her head, she blinked up. "Ouch… that hurt. Wait, why is everyone staring at me like that?"

She looked at what she still clutched. Then upward.

And froze.

A boy stood before her, battered and bruised as though he had survived some savage beating. Behind him… another boy—tall, with an expression unreadable except for the faintest smirk—was wearing pink bear-print shorts.

"What the hell—" she gasped, cheeks burning crimson. She snapped her gaze away, thinking frantically, "Oh no… oh no… I pulled his shorts! And I still fell! This is mortifying!"

Somewhere deep within the old school, the masked boy’s laughter echoed even louder.

"The game has begun."

a chill unlike any winter wind curled around Sizumi's spine.

Flinch

"It was like… something unseen was watching me."

And I did not yet know—

this was the first step into a story where beauty hides teeth,

where love can kill,

and where fate… demands a price.

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