Cursed Birthday

The crisp morning air filled Akira's lungs as he finished his 1,000 push-ups, sit-ups, and squats, his muscles burning but his breathing steady.

He was—still growing.

DING!

A familiar chime echoed in his mind.

[Daily Ultimate Body Quest Completed]

[+2 to All Stats ]

[Perfected Symmetry in effect. Allocating stat points equally across all attributes.]

Akira exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he stood up.

"Done."

His breath came out in a small puff in the cold air.

"Now what"

With his training complete, he had free time—a concept that felt almost foreign lately.

"Should I apply for a raid party again? I don't have a dungeon to raid, and only E and D ranks are allowed to raid alone on StarNet with my current ID."

"I can't request the guild for a dungeon now after i did that mess maybe another time"

BZZT. BZZT.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, snapping him from his thoughts. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen.

Grandma.

A sharp pang shot through his chest.

His thumb hovered over the answer button for a second longer than necessary. Then, he pressed it.

"Grandma?"

"Did something happen?" His voice was calm, but his body tensed instinctively.

Her voice, warm and full of love, immediately softened his edges.

"Happy birthday, my boy."

Akira blinked.

"Birthday?"

His mind stalled for a second before realization hit.

Today was January 25th.

He had turned 19 today.

He hadn't even noticed.

"Tch." A bitter chuckle left his lips.

His birthday—something he hadn't cared about for a long time.

What was there to celebrate?

His life had been nothing but suffering and betrayal. The weight of his past crushed him every day. He had cursed the day he was born more times than he could count.

And yet… she remembered.

"Thank you, Grandma."

He forced the words out, keeping his voice steady.

"I… I'm really happy you remembered."

There was a brief silence on the other end before she huffed.

"You fool."

"You're the only one I have."

Something in his chest twisted painfully.

He clenched his fist.

He knew she meant it.

After everything—after losing his parents, after distancing himself from the few people who still cared—his grandmother had remained.

Even now, she still thought of him.

"Please take care of yourself, Akira."

Her voice was soft, almost pleading.

Akira exhaled.

"Sure, Grandma."

"Don't worry about me."

"Will you come over to have some cake?"

"I'll call your friend Hiro over too."

Cake. A small, simple celebration.

Once, long ago, birthdays meant something to him. His parents, his grandmother, his friends—they would gather, laugh, and make him feel good.

Now, the thought of celebrating felt foreign. Pointless.

"No, Grandma. Another time."

A small smile, though she couldn't see it.

"I have something important to do."

A disappointed hum came from the other end, but she didn't press.

"I see… but really, thank you for picking up."

"I just wanted to hear your voice today."

His grip on the phone tightened.

"I should be thanking you."

"Silly boy."

"I'll always be here for you." She chuckled softly before her tone turned gentle again.

"I'll visit your mother soon and let you know how she's doing."

Akira's heart skipped a beat.

His mother.

"No need, Grandma. I'll go myself soon."

Silence. Then, a quiet sniffle.

"Really? That makes me so happy."

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Yeah."

"Then I'll be waiting for you, my Akira. But for now—Happy Birthday once again."

He hesitated, then finally let out a quiet sigh.

"Thank you, Grandma."

"See you soon."

"Goodbye, my boy."

"Call me when you have time don't forget me hahaha."

The call ended.

As Akira ended the call with his grandmother, he let out a slow breath, his fingers lingering on the phone for a second longer before shoving it back into his pocket.

"I should go to Cha-Jong first," - He muttered to himself, his mind already formulating a plan.

"Then I'll visit Mom in the dead of night—less chance of being noticed."

"That way, I'll be harder to track."

He exhaled, his breath visible in the cool evening air.

His chest felt a little lighter after talking to his grandmother, but there was still a weight pressing against his heart.

Seeing his mother... it wasn't just a visit—it was something he had been avoiding because of the risk of getting found and the revenge

Pushing those thoughts aside for now, he turned on his heel and made his way toward Cha-Jong's house.

The familiar neighborhood came into view, the warm glow of the lights spilling from the windows making it look… peaceful.

Knock. Knock.

The door opened almost immediately, revealing Cha-Jong on the other side.

"Oh, Akira!"

"You're here sooner than I expected."

"Come inside."

Akira stepped in, his usual composed demeanor in place, but the second he crossed the threshold—

PAM! PAM!

A loud burst of noise filled the room. His body tensed instinctively, his eyes widening in pure shock as a chorus of voices rang out—

"SURPRISE!!!"

He blinked.

Before him stood Min-Ji, Cha-Jong, and little Yuna, all beaming at him, their eyes full of warmth.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AKIRA!" Min-Ji's voice rang out first.

"Happy birthday, Ni-chan!!"

Yuna shouted excitedly, her tiny legs rushing toward him like a small, unstoppable force.

Before he could even react, Yuna threw her arms around his leg, hugging him tightly.

"I made you cake!" She said, her voice full of pride as she looked up at him with sparkling eyes.

Akira froze.

His mind went blank.

His heart? It was racing.

This… this wasn't something he had prepared himself for.

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry as he looked around the room—there were balloons, a simple but beautifully decorated cake on the table, and… a warmth in the air that he hadn't felt in a while.

Min-Ji, noticing his expression, chuckled softly.

"We wanted to do something special for you," - She said gently.

Cha-Jong stepped forward, his voice steady, but there was a deep sincerity in his words.

"You're a huge part of our lives now, Akira."

"And if you weren't there back then…" - His voice grew softer, but the weight of his words pressed against Akira's chest

"I wouldn't be standing here today—with my family."

Akira's throat tightened.

He looked at Cha-Jong, really looked at him, and for the first time in a long while, a genuine smile—a real, unguarded, honest smile—broke across his face.

He nodded, his voice coming out quiet but firm.

"Thank you."

Without thinking, he stepped forward and hugged Cha-Jong.

The older man let out a short chuckle before patting Akira's back firmly.

"You deserve peace, young man. You really do."

"And I'm so sorry if I hurt you"

When they finally pulled apart, Min-Ji cleared her throat, bringing attention back to herself.

"We did you a cake and bought you a gift" She said, motioning toward a neatly wrapped box on the table.

Yuna, still clinging to Akira's leg, puffed out her chest proudly.

"I helped! I helped!"

Min-Ji smirked, winking playfully.

"Of course, mostly everything was done by Yuna."

Yuna nodded with the most serious expression a little girl could muster.

Akira let out a small, amused breath.

"Then, I'll gladly eat the cake you made," he said, ruffling her hair.

Her giggle was pure, untainted joy.

Cha-Jong clapped his hands together. "Alright, let's eat and enjoy our time!"

Akira sat at the table, surrounded by a family that wasn't his by blood—but somehow, it still felt like home.

As he took the first bite of the cake Yuna had "made," he found himself thinking…

"Maybe, just maybe, this day wasn't so bad after all."

A birthday he never wanted—

Yet, a birthday he never knew he needed.

The night air was crisp, carrying with it a quiet stillness that settled deep into Akira's bones as he walked down the dimly lit streets. His hood was pulled low over his face, the shadows swallowing his expression, leaving only his piercing gaze visible beneath the streetlights.

His steps were steady but heavy, the warmth of the celebration still lingering faintly in his heart. A brief moment of peace. A moment that wasn't meant for someone like him.

With each step, the world around him seemed to fade. The laughter, the smiles, Yuna's excited voice—it all dulled as the hospital loomed in front of him.

His true destination.

He moved through the halls in silence, his breath controlled, his heartbeat steady. He knew exactly where to go.

The hospital was nearly empty at this hour, save for a few nurses passing by. He kept his head low, his hands shoved into his pockets, and his presence barely noticeable. A ghost in a place of the living.

Then, finally—

Room 307.

The door creaked slightly as he pushed it open, slipping inside like a shadow. The room was dim, illuminated only by the soft beeping of the heart monitor and the gentle glow of the moonlight filtering through the window.

And there she was.

His mother.

She lay still, as she had for so long now, her face as serene as ever, her breathing steady, her body unmoving. Trapped in an endless slumber.

His throat tightened.

Slowly, he stepped forward, his fingers curling into fists before relaxing.

"Hi, Mom… It's me, Akira."

His voice was barely above a whisper, but in this quiet room, it felt deafening.

He stood there for a moment, just watching her, his heart aching at the sight.

"Today… I turned nineteen," - He said, his lips pressing together as he exhaled slowly.

"It's my birthday."

A bitter chuckle left him.

"Cha-Jong and his family threw me a small party. It was… special. For a moment, I felt something again."

"It was nice."

His voice wavered slightly.

"I wish you were there, Mom."

"Together with Dad."

The words tore at him, and before he could stop it, a single tear slipped from his eye, falling silently to the floor.

"I miss you. I miss you so much."

He swallowed back the burning in his throat, his fists clenching at his sides.

"I promise, I'll find a way to wake you up." His voice turned sharper, more determined.

"Even if I have to turn against the world—no matter what it takes."

His hands trembled as he reached out, gently brushing his fingers against her frail hand.

"Please… hold a bit longer and believe in me, Mom."

Another tear fell. Then another.

But he didn't wipe them away.

For the first time in so long, he let himself feel everything.

Grief. Rage. Love. Loneliness.

He stayed like that for a moment, letting the weight of everything settle on him.

Then, finally, he rose to his feet.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. This wasn't the place to break. Not here. Not now.

He cast one last glance at her peaceful face, his expression unreadable.

Then, in a whisper—soft, broken, and full of sorrow—

"Curse this useless son you gave birth to, Mom. Curse this birthday that means nothing to me."

A sharp exhale.

"I love you."

With that, he turned, his steps slow but deliberate as he left the room.

The door closed behind him with a soft click, and the silence returned.

But inside the room—

A single tear slid down his mother's unmoving face.

Even in her coma—she heard him.

Maybe she felt her son's presence.

Who knows? But even in her unconscious state, tears slipped down her face.