Wanderer: the calamity

It is a beautiful day in the town of Grân.

Golden sunlight spills across the rooftops, warming the stone streets below. The air carries the crisp scent of autumn—dry leaves, faint traces of wood smoke, and something sweet from the festival stalls. Flowers sway gently in the wind, their colors bright and lively, while amber leaves drift lazily from above, twirling as if they have all the time in the world.

Yes… autumn is here.

The season everyone loves.

And today—more importantly—is the Festival of Fortune.

The entire town is alive.

Laughter echoes through the streets. Musicians play cheerful tunes that overlap and clash in a strange but festive harmony. Vendors shout over one another, advertising sweets, charms, and trinkets said to bring luck. Children run past with sticky hands and wide smiles, weaving through crowds that seem to grow thicker by the second.

The noise is overwhelming—almost suffocating.

And yet…

Everyone looks happy.

Everyone except—

“…What time is it…?”

My voice comes out groggy as I lie half-buried under my blanket, staring at the ceiling. A thin beam of sunlight slips through the curtains and lands directly across my face, forcing my eyes open.

I squint, then slowly turn my head toward the clock.

10:00 AM.

For a moment, everything is still.

Then—

My heart drops.

“The festival—!”

I shoot upright so fast the world spins. My blanket tangles around my legs as I scramble out of bed, nearly falling face-first onto the floor.

“No, no, no—this can’t be happening—”

I grab the nearest clothes I can find, pulling them on in a rush. My fingers fumble with the buttons of my jacket, slipping once, twice, before finally fastening them properly.

Why today…?

Of all days… why today?

I rush downstairs, my footsteps echoing loudly through the empty house.

No breakfast.

No time.

My stomach growls in protest, twisting painfully, but I ignore it.

“Sigh… just great…”

I pause at the door for a brief second, hand hovering over the handle.

“I still need to go to the library…”

The thought alone makes my chest tighten.

“I can’t mess this up.”

Not today.

Today is supposed to be lucky.

That’s what everyone says.

The Festival of Fortune—a day when blessings fall from the sky, when fate smiles upon even the unluckiest people.

…People like me.

My name is Agave Bromeliads.

And if there’s one thing people in this town agree on, it’s that I bring trouble.

Not intentionally.

It just… happens.

A broken cart wheel here. A spilled drink there. A fire that got a little too big—

Okay, maybe that last one was my fault.

Still…

People only remember bad things that I had done.

They always do.

Whispers follow me when I walk past.

"There she is."

"Be careful."

"Something’s going to happen again."

I pretend not to hear it.

I always pretend.

But sometimes…

Sometimes it lingers.

Like a weight I can’t shake off.

At least they don’t call me a calamity.

…Not where I can hear it.

---

By the time I reach the library, my breathing is uneven, and my legs feel heavier than they should.

Please still be there… please…

I push the door open and step inside.

The noise of the festival fades instantly, replaced by silence so thick it almost feels unnatural.

The scent of old paper fills the air.

Rows upon rows of books stretch out before me, towering shelves packed tightly with knowledge I barely understand.

I move quickly.

Too quickly.

My eyes scan titles without really reading them. My fingers brush against spines, leaving faint trails in the dust.

Left.

Right.

Back again.

“Where is it…?”

My voice is barely above a whisper now.

Minutes pass.

Then more.

Still nothing.

“No… no, no, no…”

My chest tightens as frustration creeps in.

Not again.

Last time, I spent hours searching—only to find the book sitting right in front of me, as if it had been mocking me the entire time.

My grip tightens into a fist.

“I’m not doing that again…”

I exhale slowly, forcing myself to calm down.

Fine.

I’ll ask.

I turn around—

—and immediately regret it.

Oh no.

Not him.

Heavy footsteps echo through the library, slow but deliberate.

“HEY!”

I flinch.

“You have the guts to come here after you burned ten books you borrowed last week?!”

His voice crashes through the silence like a thunderclap.

I stare at the floor, saying nothing.

If I respond, it’ll only get worse.

If I wait… he’ll stop.

He always does.

Martyr Brones.

Even his name sounds strange.

People react when they hear it—some laugh, others stare.

I used to laugh too.

Back when things were simpler.

Back when—

“Sigh… you’re still a troublesome girl, you know that…”

His voice softens slightly.

I glance up, just enough to meet his eyes for a second before looking away again.

“Anyway, what are you looking for? And don’t even think about ruining anything again or I will—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

I cut him off, raising a hand.

“I just need a book for the festival. It’s starting soon, so please… don’t shout. Just breathe.”

For a moment, it looks like he might explode again.

Then—

He exhales.

A long, tired sigh.

“…You really are something else.”

He turns and disappears between the shelves.

I shift my weight from one foot to the other, clutching the edge of my sleeve.

When he returns, he places the book in my hands.

It’s heavier than I expected.

Dust clings to the cover, and the pages feel fragile beneath my fingers.

“Return it,” he says. “On time.”

“I will.”

My voice is quieter now.

“Thank you… Mister Brones.”

As I turn to leave, his voice stops me.

“I hope you won’t suffer like your dad…”

My steps slowed.

Just for a moment.

I don’t turn back.

I can’t.

---

The festival hits me all at once as I step outside.

Noise.

Heat.

Movement.

The crowd presses in from all sides, voices blending into a chaotic roar. Music clashes with laughter, with shouting, with the clatter of footsteps against stone.

At the center stands the statue of Fortuna.

Crooked.

Roughly carved.

Honestly… kind of ugly.

And yet, people cheer for it like it’s sacred.

I push forward, weaving through the crowd. Someone bumps into me, hard enough to make me stumble.

“Hey—watch it!”

But no one listens.

No one ever does.

Legends say the noise drives away evil spirits. That it attracts leprechauns who scatter wealth across the kingdom.

It sounds ridiculous.

But if there’s even the smallest chance it’s true…

I’ll believe it.

Just for today.

---

When I finally reach the front, my chest is tight, my breath uneven.

Too late.

I already know.

“You’re late.”

The words land like a weight pressing down on me.

“I’m sorry, Professor… I overslept.”

I stare at the ground, fingers twisting together until they hurt.

“I won’t let it happen again…”

“Well then, give me the book.”

Her voice is sharp, leaving no room for excuses.

I quickly hand it over.

“If this happens again,” she continues, “I will not tolerate such insolence. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am…”

My voice comes out small.

I feel weak.

I hate it.

I hate sounding like this.

But I stay quiet.

Because I have to.

Because this matters.

Because maybe—

Just maybe—

If I do everything right today…

If I don’t mess up…

If luck finally decides to notice me—

Then things might change.

Even just a little.