Blood types in our world are decided by which metal exists the most in your blood.
It doesn't directly affect your ability to function in life—but people still refuse to let go of the stereotypes.
Most soldiers have Iron blood. Celebrities and popular people? Gold. Regular folks usually have Copper. And then… there's Coal—the one nobody wants.
Why do people still believe in this crap?
Just thinking about it stresses me out.
"I'll go to the checkup center this afternoon," I say to my cousin. "You'll guide me, right?"
Yes, I said guide. Why? Because I don't know how to use public transportation.
What a loser, right?
Must be some kind of grass deficiency or something.
Even though I'm a nerd, that doesn't mean I have to be this useless.
"Pathetic," I mutter under my breath.
"Excuse me?" my brother looks shocked. He thinks I called him pathetic.
"No, no—I wasn't talking to you," I quickly correct myself.
"Thank God. I already feel like a loser."
"Even if you are a loser," I say, half teasing, "you're trying to be a good person. That's what matters."
I'm not sure if it comforts him, but at least I'm being honest.
He used to be an ungrateful teenager—always looking for trouble with a flashlight, making everyone around him miserable, ruining his own life.
But that's the past.
Now? He's a decent son, I guess. God, I hate him.
He breaks the awkward silence with a dramatic bow. "Allow me to escort you to your destination, Your Highness."
I give him a side-eye and reply, "Very well."
We both giggle—then start laughing uncontrollably.
A while later, we finish the chores and start getting ready to head downtown.
Staring at the mirror, I can't help but smile.
I look… gorgeous.
I shout toward the bathroom, "Outfit check when you come out, my lady!"
I don't know if he hears me or not, but he shouts back, "What do you mean outfit check? You wear the same outfit every time you go out!"
He's not wrong, though.
I do wear the same thing every time. I don't even know why—I just never feel like wearing anything else.
Today it's a black long-sleeved top and russet cargo pants.
My hair's tousled around my shoulders.
"Should I tie it?" I mutter to myself.
In the end, I tie it.
This blood type checkup… it's my first step into the real world.
And all I can do is wish for good luck.