His Lucky Charm

Chapter 1

Omen of Bloodshed

"Ma'am, there's a dark shadow over you, an omen of bad luck! Give me three rolls, and I'll help you change your fate!"

Ivy sloane stood in front of the small bakery, her navy-blue cloak draped over her thin frame. Her dark hair was pulled into a messy bun, and dirt smudged her pale face. Despite her disheveled appearance, her expression was completely serious.

Mrs. Turner, busy arranging loaves in her shop, scowled. Getting cursed first thing in the morning was not how she wanted to start her day.

She turned sharply, ready to snap at the girl-until she actually looked at her. Ivy's face was gaunt, her eyes hollow with hunger. The woman hesitated, then sighed and reached into a bag, pulling out five rolls.

"Here, take them. And keep your charms to yourself."

Ivy Sloane wasted no time devouring the bread. Then, wiping crumbs from her mouth, she pulled a small, worn slip of paper from her pocket and pressed it into Mrs. Turner's hands.

"I'm not taking charity," she insisted. "This is for your protection. Keep it with you, and it'll keep you safe."

Before the woman could argue, Ivy folded the charm into a small triangle, slipped it into her coat pocket, and turned away.

Mrs. Turner frowned. "Wait! Where are you going?"

"To the capital," Ivy called over her shoulder. She waved once, then disappeared down the street.

Ivy had always been different.

She had been abandoned as a newborn, left by a riverbank with no name and no past.

Because she could see things others couldn't.

Spirits, shadows, the lingering traces of the dead-her second sight made her an outcast. If not for Ethan Farris, a traveling mystic who took her in, she wouldn't have survived. Under his care, she studied the old ways-divination, sigils, and the ancient art of protection magic.

But a week ago, Ethan passed away. And before he died, he left her with one final message:

"Ivy, I arranged a marriage for you. He's the key to your survival. Find him in the capital before it's too late."

She had known since childhood that her life wasn't meant to last. Her energy was wrong-too cold, too unstable. Ethan had warned her: she wouldn't live past twenty.

Tomorrow is her twentieth birthday.

Which meant she had one day left.

If she wanted to survive, she had to find this mysterious fiancé.

But the closer she got to her birthday, the worse her luck became.

Disaster trailed behind her like a curse.

The moment she stepped outside, a mudslide nearly buried her alive.

A freak lightning strike fried her old phone.

She barely made it to the train station, only to realize she'd spent every last dollar on a ticket.

Ivy refused to die. She wanted to live.

But first, she had to get to the capital.

Walking wouldn't get her there in time.

She needed a ride.

Or she needed to steal one.

That evening, Mrs. Turner locked up her shop and rode her old electric scooter through the narrow streets.

Just one more turn, and she'd be home.

"A bad omen? A looming disaster?"

She huffed. Kids these days believe the strangest things.

CRASH!

A loud noise rang out behind her, making her stomach lurch.

She slammed the brakes and turned around.

A heavy flower pot had fallen from a second-story window, shattering into shards just inches from where she had been moments ago.

Her pulse pounded in her ears. The pavement was covered in sharp fragments-yet not one had touched her.

If she had been even a second slower, the pot would have hit her square in the head.

Her hands trembled as she reached into her pocket and pulled out Ivy's charm.

It had turned to ash.

Her breath caught in her throat.

"That girl... she wasn't lying."

Slowly, Mrs. Turner stepped off her scooter, turned in the direction of the capital, and bowed her head.

"Whoever you are... thank you for saving me."

By three in the morning, the streets were eerily silent, blanketed in thick fog. The air had turned bone-chillingly cold, making Ivy pull her cloak tighter around herself.

A sharp gust of wind howled through the empty road.

Then, out of nowhere, a yellow taxi rolled up to the curb.

A strange, tattered flag fluttered from its antenna, covered in faded symbols, Ivy couldn't quite make out.

The driver rolled down the window.

"Need a lift, miss?"

Ivy stepped closer, inspecting the car.

The entire thing was plastered with SpongeBob SquarePants stickers.

Of all the haunted taxis in the world, she had to get this one.

Without hesitation, she yanked open the door and slid inside. "Take me to the capital."

The driver hesitated. In the mirror, his expression shifted.

This girl had no fear.

Slowly, he turned toward her. His face was ghostly pale.

Then, with a sickening pop, he reached up and plucked out his eyeballs.

Blood streamed down his cheeks, soaking into his collar. The entire car filled with the thick, metallic stench of iron.

The driver grinned, revealing rows of yellowed, rotting teeth.

"Surprised, sweetheart?" His voice was low, sing-song.

He leaned closer, his hollow eye sockets dark and dripping.

"I'm a ghost."

The driver expected Ivy to be terrified, but she remained unfazed. "Just drive. I'm rushing."

Despite the eerie atmosphere, there was no overwhelming sense of malice in the car, meaning the driver hadn't harmed anyone. He was just an ordinary ghost, not worth Ivy's concern.

The ghost driver was dumbfounded. Why wasn't she scared? Everyone he had encountered before, young or old, had screamed in terror at the sight of him.

Determined to shake her, he leaned in, exhaling a cold breath against her skin. His teeth gleamed as he sneered, "Girl, a ride in my car might cost you your life." He then let out a deep, sinister laugh, hoping to rattle her.

Ivy, irritated by the noise, grabbed his eyeballs and shoved them into his mouth. Her voice was cold as steel. "Make another sound, and I'll send you straight to the afterlife."

An unseen force surged through the car, instantly weakening the ghost's energy. Realizing he had provoked someone far beyond his understanding, the driver hastily dug the eyeballs from his throat and jammed them back into their sockets.

Scrambling back into his seat, he buckled his seatbelt. "M-Miss... it's not that I don't want to drive. I just can't leave this area."

"Just drive," Ivy said, closing her eyes as if to rest.

Though doubtful, the ghost hesitantly stepped on the gas. To his surprise, the car moved freely, gliding down the road that had once trapped him.

Thirty minutes later, he pulled up to their destination and let out an awkward chuckle. "We're here, Miss."

Ivy glanced at the towering skyscraper ahead. "You're a decent driver," she remarked.

The ghost rubbed the back of his head. "Well, I've been at it for twenty years."

Stepping out, he held the door open for her. "After you."

Ivy turned to him, her gaze thoughtful. "The dead and the living are separated for a reason. Your energy is harmful to the living, just as ours is to you. Since you gave me a ride, I'll return the favor-I'll help you cross over."

The ghost stiffened.

He had barely entertained the idea before Ivy saw right through him.

Dropping to his knees, he begged, "Please, just let me go back one last time! I can't leave my wife and daughter like this."

His name was Leonard Brooks, a taxi driver who had spent his life scraping together a living for his family. He had no fancy education, just a strong desire to provide for his wife and their five-year-old little girl.

The night he died, he had been rushing home. His daughter's favorite SpongeBob plushie sat on the passenger seat beside him, a reminder of the life he was eager to return to.

But fate had other plans.

The bridge collapsed beneath him, sending his car plunging into the river. He never made it home.

Since then, he had been driving the same road every night, the hope of seeing his family again keeping him tethered to the world of the living. He even covered his car in SpongeBob decorations, wishing someone-anyone-would recognize him.

Now, he was sobbing, clinging to Ivy's pant leg like a child. "My daughter... she's too young to lose her father..."

Ivy grimaced, shaking off his grip. "Enough with the waterworks. You're literally crying like a ghost."

Leonard sniffled, pulling out the worn SpongeBob plush from his pocket. He held it out to her.

"Please, Miss... If I can't stay, could you at least deliver a message?"

He hesitated before continuing, his voice choked with emotion. "Tell them I love them. Tell my wife... not to grieve too much. And if she ever meets someone good, she should remarry."

Ivy cut him off. "No need. You can tell them yourself."

Leonard's breath caught. "I... I can?"

"I'll let you visit their dreams," Ivy confirmed.

Overwhelmed, Leonard's face lit up. "Miss, you're a miracle worker!"

Ivy lifted her chin. "I've been doing this kind of thing since I was three."

Leonard eagerly nodded, giving her a thumbs-up. "A prodigy, no doubt!"

She began the ritual. "Alright, let's hurry-dawn is almost here."

As her spell took hold, Leonard's form began to fade. His voice echoed as he called out, "Thank you! If you ever end up in the afterlife, I swear I'll repay you!"

Ivy's expression darkened at the mention of death. If she didn't find her so-called fiancé soon, she wouldn't have to wait long to find out what the afterlife had in store.

With a sigh, she continued her journey, weaving through the city.

Hours passed, but she found nothing-no signs, no one with the fate she was searching for.

As night fell, an unbearable pain crawled through her body, sharp and suffocating. It felt like fire and ice gnawing at her veins.

Exhausted, she collapsed onto the hospital steps.

"Dying here wouldn't be the worst thing," she muttered to herself. "At least the morgue's close."

Just as she resigned herself to her fate, a sleek, black Maybach pulled up to the curb.

A suited bodyguard hurried to open the door, bowing slightly as he announced, "Mr. Shaw."

A tall, striking man stepped out, dressed in an impeccable black suit. His presence was magnetic, his features sharp and commanding.

Even among the well-dressed men surrounding him, he stood out-like a king among pawns.

Then Ivy saw it.

A brilliant halo of purple light surrounded him, glowing like a beacon at night.

Her breath caught.

It was him.

Ivy shot upright as if struck by lightning and sprinted toward the man.

The deep indigo glow around him made him seem almost otherworldly powerful, controlled, exuding an effortless authority. He carried himself like someone who naturally ruled over others. Just looking at him sent a jolt through her, as if the unstable force within her had found something or someonecapable of containing it.

"For once, you did something right," she muttered under her breath, addressing her absent mentor. "Guess I owe you one, old man. You actually saved my life."

She hesitated a few feet away, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came.

Damn it.

Her so-called mentor had sent her here with no explanation, no introduction-just a name. If she walked up and started talking, this man would think she was insane. Maybe even call security.

She studied him carefully, searching for a clue, a sign-anything. But his presence was overwhelming, his energy unreadable.

Ethan felt the weight of her stare and glanced in her direction.

A girl.

Navy-blue jacket, dark hair pulled into a tight bun. A battered old backpack slung over one shoulder. A thin, multicolored bracelet around her wrist. But it was her eyes that caught him-sharp, bright, impossibly clear.

Something about her tugged at his attention.

Strange.

Dismissing the thought, he turned and strode toward the hospital entrance.

A few days ago, his aunt had called him in a panic, his younger cousin, Nathaniel yate, had slipped into a coma, and no doctor could explain why. Tonight, he was here for answers.

"What are you staring at?"

Ryan Quinn's voice rang out as he strolled up to the entrance, radiating his usual carefree charm.

The security team straightened. "Mr. Walker."

Ryan Quinn grinned. "Come on, drop the 'Mr.' Just call me President Walker."

The guards remained stone-faced, ignoring him entirely.

Ryan was well-known-for all the wrong reasons. A notorious flirt, a troublemaker, nowhere near as intimidating as their real boss, Ethan Shaw. If not for the deep ties between their families, Ethan would've had him exiled to an oil rig years ago.

Still grinning, Ryan elbowed Ethan. "Hey, if there's a beautiful woman involved, I expect a heads-up, got it?"

Ethan barely spared him a glance. "What are you doing here?"

Ryan stretched, letting out a dramatic yawn. "Your cousin is practically my little brother. And since you're my old, cranky friend, that makes us family. Obviously, I had to be here."

Ethan scoffed. "Right. Like I don't know your real reason."

He smirked, saying just one name: "Eleanor."

Ryan flinched like he'd been shocked. "I broke up with Eleanor ages ago! Don't go spreading rumors. I came here for you, and this is the thanks I get? You wound me."

Ethan ignored him and stepped toward the hospital entrance.

Then,

"Wait!"

Ivy darted forward, urgency in her voice.

She had minutes,maybe seconds left. Taking a steadying breath, she blurted out, "My name is Ivy sloane. I'm Ethan Farris's apprentice-and I'm your fiancée."

Ryan choked. "Wait. What? Since when do you have a fiancée? And why am I only hearing about this now?"

Ethan's gaze was ice. "I don't know her."

Ivy swallowed hard. That damn mentor of hers had vanished without an explanation, leaving her to figure this out alone.

She tried again. "Ethan Harris. He told me to find you."

Ethan frowned. "Never heard of him."

He gave a slight nod toward the guards.

The momentary confusion in their eyes vanished as duty kicked in. One of them stepped forward. "Apologies, Mr. Shaw. We'll handle this."

A hand reached for Ivy's arm

She gasped sharply, clutching her chest. A wave of dizziness hit her, turning her face ghostly pale.

Ryan stepped between them, waving the guard off. "Whoa, whoa, easy. Ethan, you're scaring the poor girl."

Then he grinned at Ivy. "Look, I get it. Ethan's cold as ice. The human embodiment of a snowstorm. Why don't you ditch him and hang out with me instead?"

Ivy studied him, expression unreadable. "You won't do."

Ryan blinked. "Excuse me? And why not?"

She tilted her head slightly, voice calm, matter-of-fact. "Your eyes have a slight greenish tint-classic signs of too much alcohol and not enough sleep. That means kidney strain and poor circulation."

Ryan gawked. "Excuse me?"

Ivy continued, unbothered. "Your eyebrows are thick at the front but thin at the ends. And you've got a mole on the left side of your face. That means you have terrible luck in love."

Ryan sputtered.

She wasn't done. "And the lines around your mouth? Uneven. Relationships, an absolute disaster."

Ryan looked horrified.

Kidney issues? Bad love life? A relationship disaster? Was he cursed?

Wait,why was he even taking this seriously?

"This is nonsense!" Ryan huffed. "I'm a legend in this city. Handsome, rich, the total package. My love life is just fine."

Ivy barely blinked. "You love a woman who doesn't love you back. You act like you don't care, but every night, you relive every moment with her. So you drink-to forget, to numb yourself. But it doesn't work."

Ryan froze.

Heat crept up his neck.

How the hell did she?

Ethan, watching silently, finally spoke. "Enough."

Ryan swallowed hard, forcing himself to recover. "Okay, Miss Psychic. If you're so insightful, then tell me something about Ethan. If you can reveal one of his secrets, I'll personally deliver him to your doorstep."

Ivy shook her head. "His fate is too strong. I can't see through it. But I do know one thing-he's the fiancé my mentor chose for me."

Ethan's gaze sharpened.

Ivy locked eyes with him, her voice steady. "Ethan, I need your help."

Something was wrong. She had found him-the person she was meant to-but the energy leaking from her hadn't stopped.

What had her mentored said about stabilizing herself once she met her fated partner?

Something about... taking a bite?

Realization struck.

Without hesitation, Ivy lunged forward.

Ethan's instincts screamed at him. He stepped back

Too slow.

Ivy grabbed his wrist, rose onto her tiptoes, leaned in

And bit his neck.

Ethan: ... What the hell?

The bodyguards: ... Oh my god.

Ryan: Now this is getting interesting.

The bodyguards were all taken aback.

My God! Mr. Shaw was actually bitten by a woman, no less!

Ryan, Ethan's close friend, stood frozen for a second before frantically whipping out his phone. This rare moment needed to be documented. His social media circle would love this.

He snapped photos from several angles, even applying filters to enhance the aesthetic. One shot, in particular, was perfect. It captured half of Ethan's face, while Ivy's silhouette gave the illusion that she was kissing his chin.

Beaming to himself, Ryan thought, Once I post this, high society is going to explode. He was determined to take full advantage of Ethan's shock and get a few more priceless shots.

Meanwhile, Ethan Shaw was utterly stunned. No one had ever dared to bite him before. He was so intimidating that even mosquitoes seemed to keep their distance. Yet, today-a woman had bitten him!

"You" Ethan was so furious that words failed him. Just as he was about to push Ivy away-

She instinctively let go and took a step back.

The area fell into sudden silence, except for the harsh click of the camera shutter.

Ethan turned his icy gaze toward Ryan, who was still gleefully taking photos.

"Ryan! Delete that. Now." His voice was sharp as a blade.

Ryan met Ethan's murderous glare and bolted. He hadn't even thought to mute his phone. Unfortunately, he didn't get far. A nearby bodyguard tackled him to the ground.

Ryan swallowed hard as he faced Ethan's fury. "Uh, wait, let me explain."

Ethan grabbed the phone and barked an order to his men. "Watch him. Don't let this idiot out of your sight."

Ryan suddenly felt completely trapped. Damn. He was really done for this time.

Desperate, he blurted out, "Oh no! That girl, she escaped!"

Ethan's head snapped around and sure enough, Ivy was gone. The woman had slipped away while everyone was distracted.

His fingers brushed over the bite mark on his neck, irritation surging through him. "Find her! Even if you have to turn the whole city upside down, bring her back to me!"

Ryan groaned internally. That ungrateful woman! She had the nerve to bite Ethan and then run, leaving him to suffer Ethan's wrath.

He struggled a few times but couldn't break free from the guards' grip. With a deep sigh, he accepted his fate.

Ethan gave him one last withering glance, unlocked the phone, and went straight to the camera roll.

Ryan wailed. Grandpa. Please come save your grandson.

Before he could finish, Ethan's body swayed. His vision blurred. Then darkness.

The bodyguards caught him before he hit the ground.

"Boss Shaw just collapsed."

"Get Dr. Walker-now."

They rushed Ethan to the hospital, and, for good measure, tied Ryan up and threw him into the dark room next door.

Ryan could only make pitiful whimpering noises, silently protesting his innocence.

Ethan's Dream

Ethan lay in the hospital bed, slipping into unconsciousness.

In his dream, he stood in a grand, ancient palace. A woman in white stood at the center, bathed in a soft glow. A sheer veil covered her face.

Ethan felt an eerie sense of familiarity, but he couldn't make out her features.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice echoing through the vast hall.

Every time he had this dream, his question went unanswered. But this time, it was different.

The woman reached out a delicate hand and whispered, "Ethan, hurry. The grand ritual is about to begin."

Ethan tried to grasp her hand, but she suddenly turned translucent, dissolving like mist.

"Wait-don't go." He lunged forward, but his fingers met only empty air.

Her voice lingered in the silence. "Ethan... goodbye."

"No."

Ethan woke with a sharp gasp, drenched in cold sweat. His chest felt hollow, as if something vital had slipped through his grasp.

"You're finally awake. You scared me half to death."

Danielle Shaw wiped her tears away and asked softly, "Ethan, how do you feel?"

A small crowd had gathered around his bed. Ethan pressed his fingers to his temple. "Aunt Danielle, I'm fine."

Hearing his reassurance, she let out a breath of relief.

She turned to Dr. Walker. "Doctor, can you check on him again?"

The physician, Victor Shaw, adjusted his stethoscope. "Another headache?"

Ethan gave a short nod. "Yeah. It's nothing new, I'm used to it."

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he asked, "By the way, Aunt Danielle, how's Nathaniel?"

At the mention of her son, Danielle Shaw's expression dimmed. "Still the same. He suddenly collapsed three days ago and hasn't woken up since."

"The doctors say there's nothing physically wrong with him. But who sleeps for three days straight?"

Ethan massaged his forehead. "Don't worry, Aunt Danielle. I've already contacted a top neurology expert. He'll be here by tomorrow morning."

Danielle lowered her head. "Ethan, thank you. But you need to take care of yourself first. Nathaniel has me and Wisdom watching over him."

Suddenly, she clutched her chest and started coughing violently.

Eleanor quickly rushed to her side. "Mom, let's go. I'll stay with Nathaniel, you need to rest."

After they left, Ethan got out of bed and turned to his guards. "Where's Ryan?"

One of them answered, "Still locked up. Should we let him out?"

"Leave him there."

Ethan adjusted his clothes, preparing to leave.

Victor's gaze landed on the faint bite mark on Ethan's neck. Who the hell managed to bite this man? His curiosity burned, but when he met Ethan's frigid stare, he wisely swallowed his questions.

Ethan left the hospital immediately and drove straight to his grandfather's estate.

Tonight's events were outrageous.

A woman claiming to be his fiancée. A mysterious lady in white appearing in his dreams.

He needed answers.

Ivy's Escape

At one in the morning, down a quiet street, Ivy clutched her face and screamed, "Oh my God-it worked."

Biting Ethan's neck had triggered an impossible reaction in her body.

Her strength had returned. The dead energy that clung to her was gone.

She had literally come back from the brink of death.

But then she thought about Ethan's terrifyingly dark expression.

A shiver ran down her spine.

Good thing she was smart enough to run right after biting him. Otherwise...

Ivy shook her head vigorously, trying to erase the memory.

"Nope. Didn't bite a man. I bit a... jerk."

Her stomach suddenly growled. She sighed, digging into her pocket and pulling out three crumpled dollar bills.

After biting Ethan, her luck had changed.

For the first time in weeks, she felt alive.

Maybe, her bad streak was finally over.

She flipped a coin into the air.

Heads.

A good omen.

Her lips curled into a slow smile.

She was about to get wealthy.