Author Of My Own Destiny 소설 & 이야기

“It writes the last page before the first one’s done, and then calls it destiny.” “Neat trick,” Jax said. “Very Calvinist.” Another shelf shimmered to my left. AUTHOR’S GRAVEYARD – CANON ENDINGS. I pulled a thinner volume there. Inside, I found my own Author Graveyard scene, stripped of nuance: SUBJECT FACED WITH PAST FAILURES. CHOSE TO CLAIM PEN. AGREED TO BECOME HIGH-YIELD RESOURCE. “That’s not what I agreed to,” I said. “That’s… not what I meant.”

Every time, she'd frown deeply and grumble with utter disdain, "You young people, throwing your money around like it's nothing!" However, I didn't miss the way her eyes reddened when she turned away to try them on. By the time the second spring rolled around, my followers across all platforms had officially crossed the ten-million mark. I'd become a highly influential blogger, known for my deeply personal essays on family and emotional wellness. A well-respected local talk show extended me an invitation, which I accepted. On the show, I spoke from an objective point of view about the emotional abuse people suffer from their own families.

She preferred sleeping at home until noon and naturally learned nothing about business. Before Father died, he had entrusted me with his life's work—a comprehensive business handbook he'd written. That was the source of my seemingly precocious business talent in my past life. Most importantly, I'd sold my jewelry and worked grueling odd jobs from dawn to dusk, just to raise the initial capital for business. I wrecked my health early on and spent my final years bedridden. In this life, I'd never sacrifice my health for anything again, but fate struck sooner than I expected.

It was my primal and innate need, the most sacred part of a wolf's life. It was written in my destiny. But, no. I wouldn't give in to my destiny. If a shitty storm called life was going to slash my life into minuscule shreds, I would strangle the throat of fate and let the fucking storm know that I was the master of my own destiny. Let the Moon Goddess do her thing. Let she keep spinning her wheel of fate, weaving the threads of our lives together. I would fucking smash her wheel, ripping the threads apart and fucking stab her eyes with the spindle.

Cain informed me. "Do you have an idea if what kind person I need to kill next?" I asked. "I didn't have an idea Lil, it's destiny which decides about anything, so you shall not waste the opportunity when fate favors to you, it can help you gain the things you want," he replied. "But I don't believe in destiny, because we can make our own." "If you don't believe in destiny, your belief will, for sure, change, because it's destiny which will decide what will happen next, and even you will do your best to survive, if the whole universe decided not to let you survive, then you can do nothing against it."

She had taken her own pain and transformed it into a shield for countless others. At night, I walked alone on the sanctuary's paths. The moon hung high overhead, its silver light bathing the land. I thought back to that blood moon three years ago. Back then, I thought I had found my destiny. Now, I finally understood that true destiny isn't something you find. It's something you forge. He was the fate the Goddess dealt me. But I am the destiny I forged for myself. I chose the light. He is left to the darkness of his own making. And that, I realized, was the only justice that truly mattered.

What bait might draw the dissenters into making mistakes. I wasn’t pretending anymore. Not to myself. For the first time, the future didn’t feel like something looming and undefined. It felt like a direction—something I could walk toward with intention instead of bracing against. If destiny was real, then maybe it wasn’t written in prophecy or blood. Maybe it was written in choice. And I was choosing to stay. To stand. To help shape what came next. Whatever name they gave me—Shadow, Madrigal, something else entirely—I knew who I was becoming.

I pushed the gate open just wide enough to slip my body through, stepping onto the steep, rocky mountain path that wound down toward the neutral border. The rain was relentless now, soaking through the wool of my cloak, plastering my hair to my forehead as I stumbled over the jagged slate stones. Every breath was a battle against the freezing air, my vision blurring as the sheer physical exhaustion of the past forty-eight hours began to drag at my heels. But I didn't stop. I couldn't. I had survived the Moonlight slums, the silver-rot curse, and the High Council pit. I was the primal Luna, and I was going to carve my own destiny out of these mountains, even if I had to bleed for it.

I press my bleeding palm to the yellow gemstone. "For the woman who endured childlessness. For the Luna who suffered under the weight of duty, and for my child. For both my children." Nothing happens, but I didn't expect it to. I've only said the reasons I am doing this. I haven't accepted who I am yet. Only by accepting myself will I find my power. Speaking into the empty room, I breathe and voice out the truth of my existence. "I am Destiny. A woman. A werewolf of the Silvercrest pack. I was rescued by parents who loved me, and because of that, all I ever wanted was a family of my own.

His instinct only tells one thing to do. Survive. But on that fateful day, he met his goddess of fortunes as his savior. His life rescuer. Someone who has destined to be his home. A safe haven for him. Ever since that day, his feet entered her life. If Sister Hua didn't show up that day, his fate probably ended it up in the sewers or even worse. He could be a pocket thief or a beggar. Busying himself begging on the street with no future. Now, slowly, with a straight head, his path life was steady and clear. He no longer feels scared of what future has hold for him ahead.