My name is Lu Ryo.
I'm nineteen years of age.
I was born in Chengdu, China, and spent my first four years of life there. Then we moved to Fukagawa, Tokyo, when I turned six. My mother is Chinese, and my father is half-Japanese and half-American. That makes me mixed, but I've never felt fluent on either side. I can't speak Chinese, and my Japanese is only decent. And my English is mostly gamer slang and curse words.
I lived in a household that was loving and understanding. But that changed when I was fifteen years old, during the year 2021, when my father caught my pregnant mother having an affair with his American best friend, Henry. He almost killed them that day with a gun, but decided to let it go and just kicked my mother out of the house. Ever since that happened, his mental health has gotten worse. He had borderline personality disorder to begin with, and it got worse day by day. Eventually, he quit his job and developed vices. He became the man he hated the most. And that's where constant abuse happened to me. Physically and mentally.
Then came New Year's Eve, 2024. My father was out at some club, drinking with his women to celebrate. I was alone at home, and I realized that I couldn't take it anymore, so I packed my things and left everything for good. I left everything, even my education. What made it possible was the money I'd secretly saved up through online gambling. It wasn't a small change either. I had around two million yen by the time I left. Then I settled in an apartment in Monzen-nakacho, Koto, Tokyo. It was a bit pricey but convenient. I lived my days there by gambling. Only gambling, as it was my only source of income. And I kept on winning. I never lost a bet out of the bet slips I made each day. My two million yen had multiplied six times after three months. And after a few days of winning, I decided to stop being thrifty and spent a portion of my money to buy gaming necessities, some clothes, groceries, and a perfume.
Then, the riskiest moment of my life happened. Roland Garros 2025 grand finals. It was a tennis match between Jannik Sinner and Carlos Alcaraz. World number one against number two. I put ninety percent of my savings into Jannik Sinner, the world number one. He was up two sets when I was watching their match. He was clearly winning, so I decided to call it a night. I slept happily and had the best dream ever. Then by the time I woke up, I had lost ninety percent of my savings and felt my soul leave my body. Everything I'd worked for—gone in one night. The rags-to-riches dream of mine was gone in an instant.
Now, over a year later, at nineteen, I live a frugal life in a shoebox apartment above a ramen shop in Shibuya, Tokyo, that smells like beef or pork broth all day long. And the walls are thin enough to hear the neighbor's sound when they're making love. My ceiling fan makes this annoying clicking noise that sounds like it's counting down to something. I spend ninety percent of my waking hours playing and gambling. The other ten percent is mostly cooking instant food, and wondering if I should actually try to become a real adult.