Kaen Wynn banced a tray of pted entrees with the ease of a man who had dohis for years–not two weeks. Every step was measured, every pivot smooth as he maneuvered through the crowded, dle-lit restaurant. The st of seared filet mignon and truffle risotto g to the air, mingling with the low hum of jazz filtering from hidden speakers.

  He reached Table 14, where a man in a crisp navy suit sat across from his date, a woman who looked as if she had stepped straight out of a designer ad–polished nails, diamonds on her wrist, the kind of expression that suggested she had never heard the word no in her life.

  Kaeheir ptes down with a practiced smile. "Here we are. Wagyu sirloin with garlifit, and for you, ma'am, the–"

  "Oh my god," the woman gasped, recoiling from her pte as if it had personally insulted her.

  Kaen blinked. "Is something wrong?"

  She jabbed a manicured fi the dish, her voice sharpening. "There's a hair in my food."

  He hesitated. He had double-checked the ptes before bringing them out. But sure enough, a single dark strand curled against the pristine white of her pte. It was too long to be his–his hair barely reached his ears.

  "I am so sorry about that." He reached for the pte. "I'll get you a fresh–"

  "No." The man across from her cut in smoothly, leaning ba his chair. "This is uable." His eyes, a cold steel blue, flicked over Kaen with slow scrutiny. "A restaurant of this caliber should have higher hygieandards. My date could have eaten that."

  Kae his voice even. "I uand. We'll have a e ht away."

  "That's not good enough." The ushed her pte forward, her lips curving downward. "We should be pensated for this."

  A free meal. There it is. Kaen had seen this scam before–people who phings in their food just to score a dist.

  He csped his hands together, still polite. "I certainly let the owner know, but our policy–"

  "Our policy?" The man's voice dropped to a dangerous low, meant to humiliate. "You think I care about your policy? We're paying top dolr for this meal, and you expect us to just accept this? You must be joking."

  Kaen inhaled slowly. "I pletely uand your frustration–"

  "Do you?" the woman cut in, eyes narrowing. "Because I don't think you do. I think you're trying to brush us off." She turoward aable. "Do you hear this? This waiter doesn't care that there's a health hazard in my food."

  A few nearby diners gnced over, some curious, others looking away as if pretending not to notice.

  Kaen suppressed the urge to rub his temples. He had read somewhere that the key to diffusing flict was mirr emotions–if someone was angry, aowledge their anger, meet them where they were emotionally.

  So he softened his tone, looking directly at them. "I hear your . Let me get the owner, and we'll–"

  The man scoffed. "You know what? Fet it. If this is the kind of service we're getting, we'll just take our business elsewhere."

  Kaen tensed as the man waved down another server–one of the newer hires, looking panicked as he approached. Before the puy could speak, the woman's voice rang through the air:

  "We want to speak to the owner."

  Kae his posture ral, but internally, he sighed. The st thing he wanted was for this to escate further.

  The owner, Mr. Decroix, arrived within seds–an older man with sharp features and a presehat anded respect. His gaze flickered from Kaen to the couple, taking in the se with the tired patience of someone who had seen too much.

  The man in the suit squared his shoulders. "We found a hair in the food." He gestured at the pte. "And instead of making it right, your waiter gave us attitude."

  Kaen said nothing.

  Mr. Decroix looked at the pte, then at the couple, his fareadable.

  Then, to Kaen's surprise, he simply pced a hand on his shoulder and said, "Let me hahis, Kaen."

  Kaen gave a small nod and stepped back.

  The st thing he heard before walking away was the owner's smooth, deliberate voice:

  "Now, let's talk about that hair yht with you."

  …

  The night air outside the restaurant was thick with the lingering st of grilled meat, car exhaust, and the distant hint of rain on crete. Kaen leaned against the brick wall of the alley behind the restaurant, a half-burned cigarette dangliween his fingers.

  "You ever wonder if some people wake up and just decide to be awful?" Vi exhaled a long trail of smoke, watg it disappear into the night sky.

  Michelle, standiween them, let out a dry chuckle. "Oh, definitely. Some of these ers treat us like NP their personal little power fantasy." She took a sl before turning to Kaen. "How you holding up?"

  Kaen g her, then at the glowing tip of his cigarette. He forced a small smile. "It's okay. Still my sed week, after all."

  Vi scoffed. "Still? Man, you've only beewo weeks and somehow mao get some of the worst ers I've ever seen." He took another drag, shaking his head. "That's, like, statistically insane."

  "Yeah." Michelle flicked the ash off her cigarette. "I've been here four months, and I don't think I've had half the crap you've dealt with."

  TJ, who had been scrolling through his phone, finally chimed in. "Now that I think about it... ever since you got hired, I haven't had a single bad er." He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "Actually, none of us have."

  Vi and Michelle exged gnces before nodding.

  "Damn," Vi muttered. "It's like all the bad luck just–"

  "–furaight into you." Michelle finished for him, smirking.

  Kaen sighed, taking a deep drag. "It's my life, guys."

  TJ snapped his fingers. "That's it! You're like a sponge–abs all the restaurant's bad luck so the rest of us don't have to deal with it."

  Vi ughed. "Shit, we should be paying you."

  Michelle griapping Kaen's shoulder. "Maybe your suffering is the only reason we're thriving."

  Kaen rolled his eyes but couldn't help chug. "Gd my misery is so useful to you all."

  They all shared a ugh, the exhaustion of the shift melting away in the cold night air.

  Somewhere in the distahunder rumbled.

  The city night stretched ahead of them, dim lights refleg off the damp pavement, giving everything a hazy glow. Kaen and Michelle walked side by side, their steps in sync as they cut through the quiet streets. The restaurant had closed an ho, and now the world felt calmer–just the occasional car passing by and the sound of their footsteps on crete.

  Michelle adjusted the strap of her bag. "So," she started, "why'd you take this job? I mean, this pce is kinda fancy. Feels random."

  Kaen chuckled. "Holy? Lucky enter, really."

  Michelle shot him a skeptical look. "Lucky?"

  "Yeah, believe it or not." He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. "I used to work as a cashier at that little bookstore dowreet. The owner, Mr. Decroix, would drop by sometimes. One day, he offered me this gig. I guess he took pity on me."

  "Pity?" Michelle raised an eyebrow.

  Kaeated befiving a small shrug. "Well, y'know… orphan. No family. No one else."

  Michelle slowed her steps. "Wait. You're an orphan?"

  "Yeah. Born and raised in the grand system of foster homes." He tried to keep his tone light.

  Michelle frowned. "Shit. I didn't know. I'm sorry."

  He waved it off. "It's alright."

  They walked in silence for a bit, the distant hum of the city filling the gap. Then, Michelle spoke up again.

  "Y'know, when my dad died a few years ago, I had a real hard time dealing with it," she admitted. "Didn't know what to do with all the emotions, so I started writing a diary. But not just like, random journaling–I wrote it to him. Like letters. I'd tell him about my day, about stupid little things. And somehow… it helped."

  Kaen g her.

  "Maybe writing something like that could help you, too."

  He thought about it for a moment, then offered her a small smile. "I'll try it."

  And right theepped on something soft.

  A distinct squelbsp;echoed in the quiet night.

  Kaen froze. Looked down.

  "Aw, man. Again?"

  Michelle took one look and gagged. "E."

  She immediately stepped away as Kaen groaned, lifting his shoe to assess the damage.

  "You've gotta be kidding me," he muttered.

  Michelle burst out ughing. "Dude, I swear, the universe hates you."

  Kaen sighed. "Yeah, tell me something I don't know."

  They kept walking, Michelle still giggling as Kaen muttered about ic cruelty, leaving behind a faint trail of dog poop in his wake.

  …

  The small apartment was quiet save for the soft scratg of pen on paper.

  Kaen sat at his tiny desk, hunched over an open notebook. Michelle's words from earlier pyed in his mind as he tapped the pen against the page. Then, finally, he started writing.

  Dear Father and Mother,

  Hi. I don't know where to start. Never really knew how to talk to you. Holy, I always imagined how I'd call you–Mom? Dad? Or something else?

  I guess I'm okay. The movies are great. They fill this weird, empty spot in me, like a stand-in for something I never had. Sorry, ehe.

  His pen hovered for a moment before he tinued.

  You know, my life is kinda weird. It's like… I was born with some ic joke attached to my name. Every little thing goes wrong. I step in dog crap way too often. I always get spshed by cars when it rains. Oime, I got locked inside a public restroom because the handle just… fell off in my hands.

  Kaen exhaled through his nose, shaking his head.

  Do I have a sister? A brother?

  I hope they're with you. I hope they hug you when they're scared. I hope they got a better hand in life than me.

  A drop of water hit the page, smudging the ink.

  He blinked. Oh.

  He hadn't realized he was g.

  I don't resent you. Uhe orphans in the movies, I don't feel angry. I know you had your reasons, and I bet they were good ones.

  Or maybe… I was just the unlucky one.

  He wiped his eyes a out a small, shaky ugh.

  "God, this is depressing," he muttered to himself, closing the notebook.

  And with that, he turned off the mp ao bed.

  …

  Sunday. No work. A sacred day of doing absolutely nothing.

  Kaen sat cross-legged on the floor, folding undry while watg One Piebsp;on his tiny sedhand TV. A steaming cup of instant coffee sat beside him, untouched and going cold.

  The s lit up with one of the greatest moments in anime history.

  Zoro, bloodied and battered, took on all of Luffy's pain in Thriller Bark. And when Sanji found him afterward, standing in a pool of his own blood, all he said was:

  "Nothing happened."

  Kaen threw his hands up. "Oh my god."

  He grabbed his shirt mid-fold, shaking it dramatically. "Luffy, I'm sorry, man, I know you're the MC, but Zoro just stole my soul with that se."

  The episode ended.

  Kaewitched.

  "…Wait. Wait, wait, wait. You 't just end it like that!" He lunged frabbing the sides of the TV s as if he could physically shake more tent out of it. "Make it four hours per episode, damn it!"

  With a groan, he flopped backward onto his bed, staring at the ceiling.

  The world outside his window was quiet, save for the occasional sound of a distant siren.

  Then–

  A low, growing roar. Kaen frowned. He sat up, turning his head toward the window. Somewhere outside, people were shouting.

  And then–

  A shadow loomed over the buildings. His eyes widened.

  A pne.

  Falling.

  The metal hulk of an airliner hurtled through the sky, smoke trailing from its broken engines. It was ing straight for him. His breath hitched. He couldn't move. Couldn't even think.

  "What the f–"

  And then–

  Impact.

  A blinding fsh. A deafening roar.

  And Kaen Wynn, unlucky until the very end, was no more.