Part 1 – Plop, Plop, Plop
Plop.
Plop.
Plop.
That was the soundtrack of my existence. Not the cheerful jingles of anime openings, not the thunderous orchestras of epic fantasy—just the monotonous drip of a leaky ceiling into a cracked bucket beside my futon.
The worst part? The bucket had more purpose than I did.
I lay sprawled on my paper-thin mattress, glaring at the mold-stained ceiling as if it owed me rent. My stomach groaned, my joints ached, and the stale stench of instant noodles clung to the air like a curse.
A loser's den.
My loser's den.
At twenty-four, I had mastered the art of being utterly unremarkable. Dropout. Part-time cashier. Professional disappointment.
The sort of man whose death would only be noticed once the neighbors complained about the smell.
"Background character?" I whispered to the ceiling. "Please. At least background characters get screen time."
Part 2 – Workplace Tragedy
The next morning, I dragged myself to my noble battlefield: a convenience store.
If hell had a gift shop, it would look exactly like this—buzzing fluorescent lights, plastic shelves, and a manager who believed minimum wage bought maximum obedience.
"Climb up and fix the neon sign," he barked, tossing me a ladder.
"Boss," I said carefully, "I'm not an electrician."
"Do I look like I care? Customers can't see the sign. No sign, no customers. No customers, no money. And if no money—guess whose pay gets cut?"
Ah yes. Capitalism: the true final boss.
So I climbed. Of course I climbed. Because in the great epic of my life, death by workplace negligence felt thematically appropriate.
Part 3 – The Fall
The ladder wobbled.
The sign sparked.
And I thought: Wow. This is it. This is how I go.
Not saving a child from Truck-kun. Not heroically defending a girl from thugs. Not even succumbing to some mysterious illness that unlocks hidden powers.
Just… falling off a ladder like an idiot.
As I plummeted, three thoughts flashed through my mind:
My life insurance isn't paid up.
My manager won't cover funeral costs.
Damn it—at least give me a cheat skill.
Then everything went black.
Part 4 – Darkness Between Worlds
Silence.
Weightless silence.
For a moment, I wondered if I'd been uploaded to some cloud server. Maybe a bored alien was scrolling through a catalog of useless humans and picked me as a test subject.
"Where's my goddess?" I muttered into the void. "Where's the blue-haired waifu offering overpowered abilities? Excuse me, I ordered reincarnation with a side of harem. Where's customer service?"
Instead, I drifted—warm, heavy, swaddled. My arms flailed like uncooked noodles, my legs kicked feebly.
Oh no.
No.
I knew this setup.
I'd read this chapter a hundred times in webnovels.
"Don't tell me…" I groaned.
Part 5 – The Crimson Moon Birth
Light exploded around me. A piercing wail filled the air—loud, shrill, humiliating.
Oh. That was me.
The chamber buzzed with hushed panic. Priests muttered about omens and curses beneath the Crimson Moon. Nobles whispered that my birth would bring disaster.
And my mother…
She barely looked at me. Her icy blue eyes, framed by divine white hair, flicked toward me once, then turned away.
"Take it away. I don't want to see it," she said.
That was it. No warmth, no smile. Just rejection—signed and sealed in seven words.
A baby's first memory: being treated like unwanted trash.
Perfect beginning. Truly—ten out of ten.
Part 6 – A Week Later
Seven days crawled by. Seven days of being swaddled, drooling, and ignored like some cursed ornament in the Duke's manor.
Then he came.
The Emperor. My uncle. My father's brother. My mother's… new obsession.
He arrived not in mourning robes, not in regret, but in triumph. His Empress had just delivered a healthy boy—the Empire's heir. And yet, he still came to "visit" me.
"Hah," he chuckled, staring down at me with eyes full of mockery. "Just like your lowborn father. Weak. Useless. Only the eyes are different."
So that was my worth to him: an echo of the man he'd sent to die in war. A living reminder of the Duke he despised.
I expected anger from my mother. Maybe even grief. Instead, for the first time since my birth, she smiled. A real, glowing smile.
Not for me.
For him.
And when he touched her hand, when he whispered words only she could hear, her frozen mask melted.
That was when it struck me.
Her rejection wasn't neglect. It was deliberate. She had chosen him over me. Always him.
And there I lay—drooling, crying against my will—thinking: Wow. My first heartbreak happened before I could even walk.
One day, they'd remember this week—the week the Crimson Moon's "cursed baby" survived.
They could laugh now.
Because eventually, they'd cry too...