Luck

"Grey, why do you look so tired?"

An ashen expression thickened over Simon's countenance, paired with his slouching posture and slow walking.

"I don't know." Simon went to bed.

Next day:

Simon woke up a little more energetic than the day before. He had essentially abandoned all hope for that Gun Art, labelling it a piece of trash that should never see the light of day. If his daughter is his pride, then the gun art is his shame. Such a terrible technique shouldn't be allowed to be associated with Simon.

It was simply too embarrassing.

If Simon could turn back time, he would definitely have taken a break for the day and created a technique the next day. Instead, he ended up wasting most of his energy and producing a claiming pile of sh*t.