"Daniel Reeves, is it?"
Edward frowned as he glanced at the resume in his hand, then looked up at the man standing nervously before him, fidgeting with his hands. With a sigh, Edward placed the paper on the table beside him and said, "Your resume says you graduated from a top-tier university. Is that true?"
"Y-yeah," Daniel stuttered, his lower lip trembling uncontrollably. The movement was subtle, but Edward caught it immediately.
"In terms of qualifications, you passed," Edward admitted.
"Then—"
"But there's one huge problem," Edward interrupted firmly. "I don't want my business to go bankrupt because you scare my customers with… a look like that."
Edward took a closer, more scrutinizing glance at Daniel. In all his years, he had never seen anyone quite like this. Daniel Reeves was, in Edward's mind, an amalgamation of humanity's most unfortunate features.
At 25 years old, Daniel was incredibly short, standing at just 4'6". But his height wasn't the worst of it. His face was startlingly asymmetrical—his eyes were misaligned, his nose was flat with exaggeratedly large nostrils that flared with every breath, and his teeth were severely deformed, with his two front teeth nearly poking out of his mouth. To top it all off, he had a receding hairline and was painfully thin, though not quite skeletal.
There wasn't a single redeeming feature about his appearance, at least not to Edward's judgment. He felt a twinge of guilt for thinking this way, but business was business. He couldn't take a risk, no matter how qualified Daniel might be.
"So, it's about my looks again, huh?" Daniel muttered bitterly, his disappointment palpable.
Edward avoided his gaze, shame creeping up on him. "Look, it's not personal. You're clearly skilled, no offense—I'm not even trying to insult you. But this is my business, and I can't afford to take that kind of risk."
"Understandable," Daniel replied curtly, his voice tinged with bitterness. "I'll be taking my leave then."
"Yes, please," Edward said, nodding.
Daniel turned to leave, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
"Oh, by the way!" Edward called after him.
Daniel stopped in his tracks, turning around with a hollow expression. "What?"
"Here's your resume," Edward said, holding the document as he walked toward Daniel.
"No need. Just throw it away," Daniel refused, shaking his head. Without another word, he opened the door and stepped out.
Edward watched him go, a hint of pity flashing in his eyes. "What a shame," he murmured to himself. "If he looked even a little better—or maybe just average—his talents would've been better appreciated."
***
"Damn it," Daniel muttered as he kicked a can of soda lying on the ground. The can hit a wall and ricocheted back, smacking him squarely on the forehead.
"Ahh, goddamn it!"
He rubbed the sore spot on his forehead, groaning in frustration. With a heavy sigh, he sank onto a nearby bench, staring blankly ahead.
"What a dogshit luck to be born with a face like this," he murmured bitterly.
His eyes fell on the can of soda, which reflected the face he despised the most. Ever since he was born, everything in his life seemed destined for failure. Even as a young child, Daniel could recall the defining moment when his parents abandoned him. He was only four years old when they left him on the doorstep of an orphanage. He still remembered their faces—etched with disgust, as if looking at him was unbearable. While their exact features had faded from his memory, he could vividly imagine their expressions, teetering on the edge of nausea as they walked away from him.
But, of course, his hellish life didn't end there. If anything, things only got worse.
The real nightmare began when he entered school. He was always the center of attention—not the kind of attention that celebrities bask in, but the complete opposite. His classmates constantly picked on him, throwing insults that no child that age should have known. Every attempt to make friends ended in failure as other kids avoided him like the plague. Desperate for connection, he tried joining different cliques and groups, even those made up of kids who weren't conventionally attractive. But even they recoiled at his appearance, unwilling to associate with him.
Life at the orphanage wasn't any better. The bullying there was relentless. Older and stronger kids often beat him up for fun, leaving him bruised and humiliated. And the caretakers? They weren't any kinder. Somehow, he was always the one who got berated whenever fights broke out. It was as if his very existence was blamed for starting the trouble.
These painful experiences haunted him all the way to college, even at a prestigious top-tier university. The bullying and insults became less frequent, but he could still feel the invisible barrier between himself and his classmates. Prejudice radiated from them, whether through averted gazes, awkward silences, or whispered comments. By then, Daniel had given up on the idea of forming friendships or experiencing the kind of bonds so often romanticized in shounen anime.
Instead, he threw himself into his studies, enduring the crushing loneliness in silence. His hard work eventually paid off—he graduated as valedictorian. But even that achievement was tainted by unfairness. When the time came for him to give a speech at the graduation ceremony, the university shamelessly offered the opportunity to a better-looking student who wasn't nearly as accomplished as he was. When he asked why, they didn't even bother to give him an explanation.
Adulthood proved to be no kinder. Armed with a degree in computer science, Daniel set out to find a job. But every interview ended the same way—with rejection.
"The criteria you're looking for?" Daniel would ask, trying to mask his frustration. But he knew the truth. They weren't rejecting him because of his skills or qualifications. It was always his looks.
Once, he did manage to land a job at a small company, but the reprieve didn't last. Within a week, his coworkers complained to the boss, claiming they couldn't focus on their work with Daniel around. The boss fired him shortly after, handing him a meager severance pay of $300.
And today? Today was no different. He had just come back from another failed interview, this time for a cashier position at a convenience store. Once again, he was rejected—because of his appearance.
"Am I really not destined for greatness?" Daniel muttered to himself, though deep down, he already knew the answer.
He glanced around, noticing the strange gazes of passersby. He could feel the disgust in their eyes, as though he were some kind of criminal. No, worse than that—he realized that even criminals often lived better lives than he did. Some were treated far more kindly by society. It was as if the moment he was born, the world had collectively decided to condemn him to mediocrity and prejudice, ensuring he would never find happiness or meaningful human connection.
With a heavy sigh, Daniel stood up, stretching his legs, which felt sore after days of relentless job hunting. His savings were almost depleted, and the money he'd scraped together was on the verge of running out. On top of that, the loan he'd applied for two weeks ago was weighing heavily on his mind. He had to start making payments soon—otherwise, the debt would snowball, thanks to the outrageous interest rates the loan sharks had saddled him with.
"I guess I should keep looking for a job," he muttered, his voice tinged with resignation. "Maybe I'll get lucky today."
After making this decision, he clenched his fists tightly, his eyes hardening with determination. Though his current situation was undeniably tragic, he refused to give up. He'd endured countless hardships since childhood. Why should he give up now?
"Excuse me."
The sudden voice startled him. Daniel jumped slightly, his heart skipping a beat.
Standing before him was a girl—perhaps the first girl in his life to ever approach him willingly.
She was stunningly beautiful. Her short, white hair framed a perfectly oval face, while her striking red eyes gave her a mysterious, otherworldly aura. She was dressed in a white school uniform paired with a dangerously short skirt—so short that Daniel was certain it would violate any school's dress code.
Realizing that he had been staring at her for far too long, Daniel's face flushed with embarrassment. Before he could stammer out an apology or ask why she was addressing him, the girl spoke again.
"Do you want to change your life?"
Huh? What?