The Three Storms of Luck
Luck is a cruel thing.
It can lift a fool to fame,
while the one who truly deserves it —
the one who works harder, writes better, feels deeper —
stands in the shadows.
Talent isn't always enough.
Effort isn't always rewarded.
Sometimes success has nothing to do with skill —
it depends on whether luck chooses your story to shine.
And I—
I am that fool.
The one whose story became famous.
While there was another…
A man far more talented than me.
And yet—
The world never noticed him.
...
The story goes back to my junior college days.
Life was calm back then. No pressure. No endless assignments. No heavy projects. Just ordinary days drifting by peacefully.
Studying was easy for me. I understood things quickly — faster than most of the guys around me. I never really had to struggle.
And that was exactly when the first storm of my life began.
Salina.
My childhood friend.
She got selected as a model.
She was always beautiful — effortlessly so. The kind of beauty that didn't need makeup or angles. She had everything agencies looked for. Height. Features. Presence.
She began working hard to become professional.
But as modeling demanded more from her, she had less energy for studies. It wasn't that she became lazy… she was simply exhausted.
---
We were in the classroom that day.
"Jay… Jay…"
A soft voice drifted into my ears like a melody.
"Umm…"
"Jay! Hey, Jay! Wake up!"
I slowly opened my eyes.
Salina's face was right in front of mine.
Too close…
"You're finally awake!" she said, pointing two fingers at her eyes dramatically. "Break's over. Open those sleepy eyes!"
"Y-Yeah…" I muttered, startled by how close her angel-like face was.
"You were really out. Did you stay up late yesterday?" she asked.
"I was studying… trying to improve my grades a little," I said, scratching the back of my head.
"Wow~ Great job, Jay. Do you want me to pat your head as a reward?" she teased with a playful smile.
"N-No! That's fine!" I blurted, instinctively touching my own head.
"Teehee… I'm joking! You're way too easy to fluster," she giggled, tilting her head slightly to the right, touching her chin like she was analyzing me.
I couldn't even respond.
"You two! No lovey-dovey stuff in the classroom!" a voice interrupted.
"K-Kavita! We're not being lovey-dovey!" Salina protested.
But Kavita only pointed toward the other side of the room.
Whispers.
"They're really close…"
"I think she likes Jay…"
"No way… but they are childhood friends…"
"Whoa…"
The entire classroom buzzed.
Salina leaned closer to me again and whispered mischievously,
"Teeheehee… They think we're a couple. So… what do you want to do? Should we go out for real?"
"Ah— Huh?!" My brain short-circuited. "That's too much!"
"Teeheehee~ I'm kidding! You take things way too seriously, Jay!"
I sighed internally.
Of course she was joking.
She always was.
But for a second—
Just a second—
I wished she wasn't.
And that was how it began.
The first storm was already forming… and I didn't even realize it yet.
On another day in the classroom—
"Heyyy, Jay! What do you think the next test will be like?"
Salina slid into the seat beside my bench, sipping apple juice from a small bottle she brought from home. She always carried something healthy, claiming it was for "model discipline."
"What do you mean?" I said, closing my book and looking at her. "It should be normal."
"Teeheehee~ Gosh, is that sarcasm?"
"No!" I replied quickly.
She laughed. "Relax, it was a joke! But Jayyy… can you help me study again?"
I sighed softly. "I'll help you this time. But you shouldn't always rely on me. You need to study on your own too."
"I do study on my own," she insisted, leaning slightly closer. "But I understand things faster when you explain them. It's more effective. Do it as a favor for me?"
"Favor?" I repeated.
"Yuppp. And I'll repay it."
I raised an eyebrow. "Repay it? How?"
She tapped her chin thoughtfully.
"Hmm… I'll treat you to lunch every day during exam week. And on top of that… if I rank up ten positions compared to last exam…"
She paused dramatically.
"I'll go on a date with you."
My brain froze.
"A date…?"
She smiled mischievously. "Yes~ A real one."
"That's… not bad…" I muttered under my breath before I could stop myself.
"So? Deal?"
"…Deal."
We shook hands like it was a serious contract.
But inside—
My heart was racing.
At that moment, I allowed myself to imagine it.
Maybe we could really become a couple.
Maybe that "joke" would turn real.
Maybe we would date properly.
Maybe, years later…
We would even get married.
For the first time in my life—
I felt something bigger than exams.
Bigger than grades.
Hope.
And I didn't know yet…
That hope was about to be tested by the first storm.
But one evening—
The first storm finally arrived.
"Bye, Jay! See you tomorrow!" Salina waved brightly as we parted at the usual corner.
"Yeah, see you tomorrow," I replied, lifting my hand back at her.
I walked down the street with a strange warmth in my chest.
After exams…
Maybe I should confess.
Maybe we could really become lovers.
The thought of being with Salina — not as childhood friends, but as something more — filled me with a new kind of energy. I even imagined proposing to her one day.
For the first time, the future felt clear.
"Excuse me. May I have a minute?"
A rough voice called from behind me.
I turned around.
A woman in her late twenties stood there, dressed professionally.
"Huh? Me?" I asked.
She handed me a business card.
"This is who I am."
I looked at it.
Modeling Agency Manager.
My heart skipped.
"A… are you a talent scout?" I asked nervously. For a second, wild thoughts filled my head.
But then Salina's face appeared in my mind.
"I'm sorry," she said calmly. "The one who fits the modeling world — the one who auditioned — was the girl you were walking with."
"Oh… I thought so too," I said awkwardly. "Sorry, that was embarrassing."
"If you don't mind, can we talk over there?" she gestured toward a nearby park.
We sat on a bench at the children's playground. Kids were running around, laughing, screaming freely.
It felt ironic.
Because what she said next would steal that freedom from me.
She explained everything.
Salina had been offered a modeling contract.
But she rejected it.
Why?
Because the agency had a strict no-dating policy.
"I… see…" I muttered.
"She has natural star quality," the manager continued. "That presence can't be trained. It's a gift you're born with. If she chooses this path, she could reach incredible heights."
She paused.
"So, Jay… I have a request."
"What is it?" I asked quietly.
"I know you have feelings for her. But can you keep your distance? If you step away, she'll accept the offer."
My mouth opened—
"I… I…"
But no words came out.
"Can't you even do that?" she snapped. "Don't be selfish, Jay. You're destroying her bright future for your own feelings."
"Huh…?"
"Do you really think she'd be close to you if you weren't childhood friends? You're average. There are tons of better, more successful men out there for her."
Average.
The word hit harder than anything else.
"If you truly care about her, stay away," she said coldly.
And then she left.
I sat there alone.
The children kept laughing.
The world kept moving.
But inside me—
Something cracked.
After that day, I started avoiding Salina.
No more walking to college together.
No more lunch breaks.
No more study sessions.
Every step away from her felt like tearing something apart.
But I convinced myself—
This is for her future.
This is what love means.
And just like that—
The first storm tore through my life.
"Jay, wait!"
Her voice chased after me just as I was about to leave the school gate.
I stopped.
"…S–Salina?"
She hurried toward me, slightly out of breath.
"Why have you been going home without me these days? And why are you acting so cold?" she asked, her eyes searching mine.
"I… haven't been," I replied weakly.
"Yes, you have," she insisted. "If you have something to say, just say it. If it's my fault, I'll apologize."
"It's not like that…"
"Then what is it?" she pressed.
I scratched my head, unable to meet her eyes. "It's kind of hard to explain. Don't worry about me."
"Jay, you're acting weird. Did something happen?"
Her voice softened.
That made it harder.
I swallowed.
"Actually… I… have a girl I like."
The words felt like stones falling out of my mouth.
"Huh?"
The brightness in her face faded instantly.
For a second, I almost took it back.
"So… I don't want any misunderstandings," I continued, staring at my shoes. "Sorry."
"Oh… I see."
She forced a smile.
"Sorry about that. I'm rooting for you, Jay!"
"…Yeah. Thanks."
"You'll be fine!" she said cheerfully, waving her hand. "Okay then, bye-bye!"
"Okay… bye."
And just like that—
It ended.
Not with a fight.
Not with tears.
But with a fake smile and a lie.
Soon after, Salina accepted the modeling contract.
She became busier.
More distant.
But sometimes she would still visit my house, excitedly telling me about her shoots, her schedules, the other models she met.
I would listen.
I would smile.
And I would say nothing about the truth.
That's how I lost her.
Not because I wasn't good enough.
Not because she rejected me.
But because I stepped away first.
And that was how I was defeated by the first storm.
...
The Second Storm
After parting ways with Salina, I buried myself in distractions.
I started watching movies.
Romance films. Tragedies. Dramas.
But the endings always felt fake to me. Too convenient. Too polished. Love healed everything too easily. Pain disappeared with one confession.
So I thought—
If I don't like their endings…
I'll write my own.
I began writing stories online.
Harem stories.
Sad endings.
Broken love.
Regret.
Stories where love didn't always win.
And somehow—
People loved it.
My readers grew quickly. My stories went viral. Soon, I got contracted by an online novel platform. Money started coming in.
Fame followed.
Everyone called me talented.
But deep down—
I knew I was just lucky.
Lucky that my style matched what people wanted.
Lucky that my timing was perfect.
And then—
I met him.
His pen name was "THE PRINCE."
The first time I saw him, I thought—
This guy looks like he walked out of a romance novel.
Sharp nose.
Long, silky black hair tied neatly behind his back.
His face was striking — more refined than most models I'd ever seen. Tall. Well-built. Perfect posture.
He looked flawless.
But what made him different wasn't his appearance.
It was his smile.
Calm.
Kind.
Gentle.
The kind of smile that made you instinctively trust him.
He was what people would call "Mr. Perfect."
And that was the beginning of the second storm in my life.
He turned out to be… my fan.
At least, that's what he said.
He approached me one afternoon with a polite bow and a gentle smile.
"I admire your work," he told me. "Would you consider collaborating with me?"
At that time, I had never heard of him. I didn't know his writing. I didn't know his style. I only knew that I was already popular — and he wasn't.
So I declined.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm quite busy right now."
He didn't argue.
He didn't look offended.
Instead, he smiled — that same calm, innocent smile.
"Just give it a try," he said softly.
Then he handed me a stack of rough manuscript pages. They were neatly written, page numbers carefully marked in the corner.
There was something sincere about the way he held them out.
He wasn't famous.
He didn't have a fanbase.
No online following.
No contracts.
No recognition.
Just a dream… written in ink across those pages.
And somehow—
That made his offer feel heavier than any contract I had signed.
But at that time—
I didn't understand the weight of what I was holding.
Months passed.
Board exams came and went.
For the first time in a while, I had free time.
One afternoon, while cleaning my room, I found a stack of papers tucked away in a corner.
His manuscript.
THE PRINCE.
For a moment, I just stared at it.
Then I sat down and began to read.
At first, it felt different.
The pacing was slower.
The emotions were subtle.
There were no flashy twists. No exaggerated drama.
But the deeper I read, the more curious I became.
And by the time I reached the ending—
I was crying.
Not because it was tragic.
Not because someone died.
But because it was happy.
Truly happy.
Earned happiness.
The kind that feels fragile yet real.
My tears wouldn't stop.
I picked up the second manuscript.
This one hurt.
Not in a dramatic way—
But in a quiet, suffocating way.
The pain in it felt real. Raw. Honest.
And once again, I found myself crying uncontrollably.
I had written dozens of stories.
I had made readers cry.
But these two stories—
They changed me.
I realized something that day.
He had struggled.
He had been betrayed.
He had failed.
No recognition. No audience.
And yet—
He still wrote stories that believed in love.
Stories that believed people could be kind.
Stories that believed happiness was possible.
That was something I couldn't do.
All my stories were filled with regret.
His were filled with hope.
I searched for him.
I asked around.
I tried to find any contact information.
But all I discovered were fragments of his hardships… and rumors of betrayal.
And then—
I learned he was missing.
No updates.
No new works.
No trace.
The man who believed in love more than anyone—
Had disappeared.
When I compared my work to his—
I didn't feel pride.
I felt—
Embarrassment.
Pain.
Loss.
Jealousy.
Fear.
Why was he so good?
I worked hard too.
I wrote from real experiences.
From heartbreak.
From regret.
From storms.
So why?
Why?
Why?
And then—
That voice echoed in my head.
The manager's words.
Like a hammer striking metal.
Bam.
Bam.
Bam.
"You're average."
"Don't be selfish."
"You're just in her way."
And another truth followed—
I'm just lucky.
Salina was only close to me because we were childhood friends.
And I became famous because I happened to write stories people found entertaining.
Not deep.
Not transformative.
Just… consumable.
Time-pass.
Disposable.
He had talent.
I had timing.
He had depth.
I had luck.
The realization hollowed me out.
So I decided—
I would change.
I would work harder.
Write deeper.
Write better.
I pushed myself.
Day and night.
Rewriting chapters.
Deleting drafts.
Forcing emotions onto pages.
Trying to replicate that warmth he carried so effortlessly.
But the harder I chased it—
The further it felt.
I wasn't improving.
I was breaking.
The joy of writing faded.
The fame felt heavy.
The applause felt fake.
And slowly—
I found myself drowning.
Not in failure.
But in comparison.
Not in rejection.
But in my own insecurity.
That was the true second storm.
Not him.
Not his talent.
But the war inside me.
The 3rd Storm
It happened after my marriage with Salina. A proper one. Okay.
After that, I found out what really happened with THE PRINCE. I learned about his struggles, the betrayal, and how his work was taken from him. I also found out how he disappeared without saying anything.
Because of that, I decided to take over his unfinished works. Not to steal them, but to complete them. I felt responsible. His stories changed me, so I wanted to give them an ending. That's when I decided to write a new series called The Story of Losing Heroes.
I thought that was it.
But something big happened.