My goal is to immigrate. My talent is picking up trash.
Those two things had nothing to do with each other, until I found out that immigrating meant competing, and I seemed to have seen all the events in the competition somewhere before.
The problem is, I only remember the general idea.
So every time I win, I panic more than anyone. Others see a genius; I see luck. And I know full well that sooner or later, it’ll run out.
Worse, I can’t win too conspicuously.
In this world, “being too lucky” can get you penalized.
So my daily routine is: win, then pretend I almost lost; earn points, then report one fewer; get praised, then lower my head and say:
“It can be fixed.”
Theme: Striving for success
