Emica Kana is 18 years old. She has always loved writing stories., They were her escape from reality. She always wished that a man would come and save her like they always do in the stories.
Well, she got her wish.
Emica entered a small writing school that was near a river. Her friend had joined her. But, the teacher had an odd vibe around him. Emica became a little scared of him. She especially became scared when the teacher started to pay more attention to her. One day, when she runs from him, she falls into a world of adventure, risk, and abnormalities. 
But, her teacher is what scares her more than this new world. What secrets and schemes did he use to get her here?

In the study on the thirty-third floor of the headquarter of the Congress, Lucien was holding a letter from Oliver Constantine, "…Since the fifth circle, a sorcerer's every single progress involves the interaction between one's soul and one's cognitive world. In the progress, substantialization happens. In order to become a legendary archmage, one's cognitive world has to be half solidified to remain between being virtual and real…"
Lucien was too shocked to continue reading as he knew that the information in this letter should be confidential to a middle-rank sorcerer like him. Although the letter was about the secret of the legendary level, Fernando still closed his eyes like there was nothing special.
Although the book Astrology and Magic Elements also contained the rites of legendary level, as of now Lucien could not read that part, as he was not yet a senior-rank mage. Neither was he qualified to use the higher level arcana and magic library to gather more information. Therefore, before Lucien read the letter, he knew nothing about how to become a legendary archmage and how it was like to be one. However, Oliver Constantine's letter just revealed the secret casually.
Of course, Oliver Constantine was writing to the Lord of Storm, a grand arcanist. This was not a secret at all between them.
"Keep going," Fernando said in a plain tone. "Don't tell me you're not interested in becoming a legendary archmage."
This was the benefit of becoming the student of a grand arcanist. Lucien could find many secrets and all of them would contribute to his future growth.
Lucien continued to read the letter:
"Fernando, as you know, the closer one's cognitive world is to the real world, the easier the half-solidification progress is, thus reaching legendary level can be easier. From what I know about Florencia, I think this is going to be her biggest challenge in her future progressing. Therefore, I've been studying the half-solidification progress for a while.
"As my research went deeper, I've noticed that after excluding the parts consisting of the different cognitive worlds formed based on assorted arcana theories, in the meditation environment, the space structure and the real world conflict badly. Perhaps the mathematical basis that we adopt in describing space is wrong. Maybe we need to start all over again to reexamine this part. I think…"
It seemed that Oliver's math was not as good as his arcana. Fernando found a few mistakes in the letter and pointed them out in front of Lucien directly. Using the letter, Fernando again started to test and teach Lucien.
"You're not really stupid when it comes to math," commented Fernando with no any facial expressions. Then he grinned, "Although Oliver was a playboy and he was even fooling around with his female students, Florencia's definitely his true love… like an opera."
Lucien hoped that Fernando could mind his words a bit in front of him. Lucien felt that Fernando had two sides. When it came to arcana and magic, he was very short-tempered and impatient like an approaching storm, however, in other cases, was often humorous and sometimes even a bit dirty. Thus, some people secretly called Fernando "the old pervert".
Seeing that Lucien did not answer, Fernando continued, "Oliver has to be careful. Maybe one day Florencia will be totally pissed if he keeps contacting his previous little lovers… Maybe Florencia will find a lover to take her revenge. Umm… Imagine the look on Oliver's face… I wonder if one day Oliver, the Hand of Annihilation, will annihilate Florencia?"
Although Lucien was more or less prepared, Fernando's passion for gossiping was still out of Lucien's expectation, which further confirmed Lucien's impression of his teacher—an old pervert!
"It's… quite impossible. No one dares to steal a grand arcanist's wife," Lucien tried to end this topic.
Fernando took a glance at Lucien and said, "What do you know? There are always young guys who are bold and crazy about love. When I was young, I was even crazier than Oliver! But now I'm old. I'm not interested in anything else other than exploring the truth of the world."
Shaking his head, Fernando said, "The next letter."
After reading all the papers, Fernando did more thermal radiation experiments with Lucien to gather more information for the derivation of the formula.
...
In the study in Lucien's garden villa.
Lucien received a letter today form Viscount Harrison, the senior-rank illusionist.
"… I've read your paper, Evans. I have to say that I'm a bit disappointed as you have given up your advantages in the field of Element and Astrology and carelessly stepped into the field of Electromagnetic Wave, Hormone, and Illusion that you're not even familiar with. Thus, your paper is not enough thorough just like Isabella's paper. And it is even less persuasive compared to Isabella's work since there are many things in your paper that cannot be proved.
"Of course, your talent in arcana impressed me. You've also put forward some creative findings even in the fields that you're not good at. Maybe I should admit that some illusions were from the interaction between the electromagnetic waves and the alchemical substances. Your improvement on the spell, Charm Person, is marvelous. Perhaps, in the future, when you have a better understanding of the essence of Illusion, you can make an even greater contribution…"
Then Harrison spent more than twenty pages on explaining how he understood Illusion. Although he was more or less bragging about it, his words also solved some of the questions in Lucien's mind in the school of Illusion.
At the end of the letter, Harrison wrote,
"… The debate over whether the Laurel should go to Ms. Isabella has been growing more and more intense. Family of Sorcerer has decided to gather us senior-rank mages together next month to discuss it. It is a pity that your paper hasn't been proved decisive, or I would be able to nominate you to share the Laurel with Isabella. So you can be one of the two most outstanding arcanists in the past a hundred years."
Family of Sorcerer retained the conservative style from the ancient magic empire. They looked back the whole year's achievement in the three major schools of magic at the end of every year to decide about who could win the Laurel, if there was anyone qualified for the prize.
As for Holm Crown prize, things were different. A great achievement could lead to the activation of the reviewing process immediately and thus whether the sorcerer could win the prize could be decided very fast unless it had to take years for the value of the finding to be proved.
Obviously, this time, great pressure was confronting Family of Sorcerer.
Putting down the letter from Harrison, Lucien started to write his own letter.
Picking up the quill, he slightly dipped it in the ink. However, the tip of the quill stopped above the paper. The first letter was of course for the princess far away from him. However, Lucien was a bit nervous writing the letter.
He calmed himself down, trying to figure out what Natasha's preference was. He knew that he should avoid talking about arcana and magic too much. In the world that Lucien originally came from, people made fun of such nerds all the time.
But what else could he write about? Lucien found it rather difficult.
A while later, Lucien started writing,
"… My teacher is Mr. Fernando, the Lord of Storm. He is a strange person. When it comes to talking about magic and arcana, he is very bad-tempered and impatient. He was even yelling at me a few times… You know, I'm always quiet and cautious… When he is angry, it's more than dreadful, like a violent storm. But at other times, he is pretty casual and humorous, sometimes even a bit too much."
Just in case, Lucien did not use the word "pervert".
"… When I was reading the letters from these archmages, I could tell their different personalities from the ways they wrote the letters. For example, Ms. Hathaway is not very good at using words to express herself, but when it comes to arcana and magic, I can tell that she is very determined and intelligent, although the sentences she used were rather simple…
"Mr. Douglas seems to be a graceful senior man. He rarely gets angry. The only problem with him is that he always asks why. Mr. Brook is gifted in writing and is always very cautious about using his words. Meanwhile, he is quite old-school and stubborn.
"… Mr. Oliver, when talking about things other than magic and arcana, is always full of passion just like a poet. He is like the typical elegant and favorable playboy pictured in the operas. But he basically shows no resistance to woman's beauty…
"… Ms. Hellen Paris' words are always simple. She rarely talks about things other than arcana and magic. But according to Mr. Fernando, she is actually quite talkative in front of people she knows well, but she just focuses more on exploring the nature of the world.
"Vicente Miranda, Thanatos, rarely writes to Mr. Fernando. I can say that he is relatively… careless. He only wrote to Mr. Fernando twice, but both of the wrinkled letters were stained with the oil from the dead bodies in the back. It is quite disturbing…"
...
After finishing the letter for Natasha, Lucien felt much relaxed. Then he wrote more letters to all of his friends to tell them that he had come back. He also wrote back to Viscount Harrison and briefly explained his understanding of dream and of simple behavior psychology.
...
In the past a few days, many friends visited Lucien or wrote back to him.
This morning, Lucien stepped into Fernando's study on time.
"Good morning," said Lucien politely.
Fernando looked quite pissed, "I'm not good! Not at all! Why did I bother doing this damned thermal radiation experiment!"
Lucien's heart suddenly missed a beat. He wondered if Fernando had collected all the data. However, as he was being busy with studying the fifth-circle magic these days, Lucien had not found any time to analyze the numbers.


"A falling star has brought the chaos. The throne of fate has lost its master. The nonbeliever who walks in light and darkness will make his debut."
In this magic world, knowledge is power.

I am not that pleasant to the eye. I have these forever tiny pimples that take shelter on my face. And I think I have gotten big over the years of stress-eating. 

This guy in front of me does not think so though. 

/"I was wondering if you wanted to grab some dinner later."/ 

Or maybe he is just making fun of me and this is some kind of prank he is trying to pull off with his jock of a friends. I have seen this guy and he is the new member of the basketball team of Moordale High. I have not known him that much, but I know the basketball boys were assholes. 

This guy standing in front of me is a sophomore and it sucks that he is taller than me. He has brown curly hair, black eyes, and frickeled cheeks. And I think he is pleasant to the eyes, too pleasant. 

/"I was wondering if you wanted to grab some dinner later."/ 

Too straightforward to even be believable. I look boringly back at his eyes, which showed nervousness. He glances at something behind my back. The jockholes look like they are snickering. 

I grab the books from my lockers and look back at him.

"Trust me, you don't wanna be like them." I walk away from him and towards my first period. 

You see, the basketball players at my school hate me. They hate me for accidentally finding out their secret. I never meant to intrude but they were just not that careful. That's why they left me alone, sadly my proof was shattered by them, my phone, and now I had nothing against them. Just kidding, I backed it up on my laptop. I am not that fucking stupid. One more dirty move, and their parents will know that their precious innocent sons are actually not that innocent anymore. 

Wednesday is the best school day. Creative Writing is first period. And I love the subject. And I get to be with Atlas in the same room. 

I quickly go to my seat and write my thoughts and feelings of the day. Mr. Harrington has this idea of writing down what we are feeling and I don't know for what purpose. 

/I think I will be fine./

He has not yet arrived. I roll the paper and put it in the box of his table. 

I turn to my seat to find Atlas already sitting and writing down on his paper. He is 7 seats away from me. He is in front while I was at the back.

In no time, the students filled the room and Mr. Harrington started his lecture of the day. I listened to him properly but my mind keeps bringing me back to what happened this morning.

/"Your mom is coming here tomorrow, please clean your room."/ I hear my dad's voice. It was not my mom, coming to the house, that was bothering me. It was my dad. Sure, he changed. But everything was awkward at the house, he is always early for work and arrives so late. He does not look at me when he says something. We don't eat together. It's like we are two strangers living in the same house. Like housemates that are supposed to get along. We don't get along. He barely even talks to me. It has always been like that. I was always the one initiating the conversation when we eat together, which barely happens. I tell him about school and he would reply with words that are blank and I ask him about work and he'll say it's okay and the conversation ends.

/I think I will be fine/ I snap out of my thoughts and look back at Mr. Harrington who has started reading the rolled papers. 

"Whoever you are, remember that it gets better. Your day might have started badly, does not mean it ends badly, do something fun, something you want to do. It's a bad day, not a bad life." Mr. Harrington was good at motivation and making students feel better. I wonder why isn't the guidance councilor when he was better than Mrs. Yuan. 

"I beat off three tim..." the class is in hysterics, including me. "Now, what did I say about this stuff?..." He rambles on and on about the use of language and then continued to read the other papers, which of course, had plenty more unclean contents. 

I look back at Atlas, whose back I can only see. He is laughing along with the class, his broad shoulders bobbing in the process. 

He is good at poetry as well. He is good at everything he does. He is this perfect student, this perfect jock, this perfect son, this perfect boyfriend, but he will never be a perfect friend. 

Suddenly, I am so angry. Angry at him. Angry for what he has done. Angry that he gave up on our friendship. Angry that he blamed me for his parents separation when his parents actually had reunited and stayed a perfect family in town. Angry that he did not even reach out and try to recompense. Angry that he chose to be friends with assholes. Angry that he is unattainable. 

And I am angry at myself, for not being able to let go. For messing things up. For not being able to save my parents' marriage. Angry at my mother for leaving. Angry at my mother who has built a new family and they are probably talking and not awkward with each other. Angry at my father for cheating. Angry that he isn't proud of his faggot of a son that he could not even talk to let alone look at. I am angry that I chose him. 

I am angry at myself for being the way I am. I am angry that as I sit here, my eyes blinking back tears, looking at Atlas' back, I realize that I am jealous of him. That I have always been. And I hate it. 

"Mr. Jones, are you okay?" I look back at my 6'4 teacher who is now standing in front of me. I know all eyes are on me. They are probably looking at me weirdly, including Atlas. But I don't look at any.

I clear my throat.
"Um, yeah... I am okay sir."

I will always say I am okay.



/Even when it is obvious that I am not./

Summer is in love with Atlas. Atlas likes Summer, but no, not in that way.


boyxboy

The language learning course which tested the ability of the students' minds to read, and comprehend a certain text, acknowledged the variety of literary pieces across the world, expressed one's sentiments, and viewpoints through creative writing, and gave up a speech to the public with a required self-confidence and charisma had conquered the class of Yeats.

"English Time!" a classmate exclaimed.

"Ugh. Why on earth..." Noah said, lying her head onto the armrest.

The teacher had arrived with her male student who assisted her to carry on her stationery materials and left afterwards. 

She expressed her warmest greeting to the class, "Good morning, everyone."

"Gooood Morningggg, Ma'am Rhea," the entire students responded in dullness, deliberately prolonging the words.

"Again, good morning, Yeats."

"Good Morning, Ma'am Rhea! We are happy to see you today!"

The teacher nodded, and commanded them, "Okay, you may now take your seats."

"So Yeats, in this period, we would be having an activity, and I'm sure you would definitely love to hate this one."

The students plastered a counterfeit grin on their faces as they listened to their teacher's introduction. It looked as if their incoming task would be an "easy yet a lazy job" for them.

"You will be composing an original poetry! Isn't beautiful? A form of art of regurgitating all your personal experiences, feelings, aspirations, and showing off your ideals and visions of the world around us by using a piece of paper and a pen. What lies ahead of our future? Who shall be the one to pass this on for the next generation. It's only you, the young ones. As our beloved national hero, Dr. Jose Rizal quoted, 'The youth is the hope of our nation'," Ma'am Rhea Azuela dramatically spoke, and her fists were firmly closed.

Everyone groaned with the exemption of Ma'am Rhea whose energy was trying hard to somehow radiate the entire classroom.

"Hmm... Okay, you only have two options: To create or not to create. My role as a teacher is simply taking down of your grades and morals in your report card. If you want a failing grade, why not? I'll give it to you. Other than that, what does youth always say? You only live once, eh? So, I won't stop you from not submitting your requirement," Ma'am Rhea shrugged.

"Anyways, for those who wished to conform to the task, listen up. Before you start writing, I would love to give a bit of a background about our today's lesson. I'm sure most of you familiar with them. We've known different lyrical poems, epic poems and etcetera. Now, I'll ask you. What is haiku? Anyone?"

"Just give me a gist of it."

Students were staring at each other's eyes, and no one dared to speak. Few were looking at the white board. Most were avoiding an eye contact from their instructor. Some of them were gaping at the outside of the room. Ma'am Rhea whined and continued.

"Guys, you have to talk. Remember, this is an English class. You have to hone your communication skills. How are you going supposed to learn if you don't utilize your mouths? Ha? Come on. No answers are wrong in language. It's more on thoughts and ideas that we should express. You should be engaging more on interaction. And pretty please, let's help each other out. Don't leave me hanging guys, Okay?"

"Now, any thoughts from this group?" she asked, looking at the first row. Ma'am Rhea was about to choose her lucky victim when one of her students raised her right hand, "Ma'am."

"Yes, Miss? What do you think? What is haiku?"

"May I go to the comfort room?" the wench replied.

Some of the senior high students were retaining their soon-to-be-bursted laughter. Ma'am Rhea sighed, and said, "Yes, you may."

The young lass stood up straight, and said, "But, If I am not mistaken, haiku refers to a five-seven-five syllable count in a one three-phrase stanza. It is also originated in Japan."

"Again, thank you for your permission, Ma'am."

The schoolgirl went to the school comfort room, leaving the entire class in amusement. Ma'am Rhea snapped her fingers to get back her little ones' focus.

"That's my girl! She got it right. Finally, someone saved you from danger, eh?" the teacher cunningly grinned, and the student were then relieved. 

"And since this is a surprise activity, you need not to compose a haiku. Still, it is included in your quarterly exams. Instead, I challenge you to write a poem. Freestyle. Whether you want to have your piece that consists of a rhyme, or a regular meter. It's up to you. Make sure it has three stanzas. Do you understand me, Yeats?"

Dassah lifted up her hand up, and called, "Ma'am."

"Yes, Miss Dassah?"

"What would the topic be about?" the student asked.

"Hmm... Good question," Ma'am Rhea nodded, and began considering a great theme for her class's written poetry. Suddenly, a brilliant idea popped up. She smiled and responded to her student.

"It should be based on your personal experience. For example, your bonding with your family and friends. Maybe you want to write about your life as a student, and whatsoever. The sky's the limit."

"So, any questions?"

The class replied, "None."

"Okay. You may now start. And please let me check your composition before the bell rings whether it is done or not. I'll give a plus point and a secret award for those who could create a finished piece," Ma'am Rhea announced, and sat down on her chair to relax her voluptuous legs.

"Ma'am, what is the reward?" one man asked.

"It won't be confidential anymore, if I'll tell you, mister," she said.

The students proceeded writing on their mandatory art work. Creative juices were flooding up inside of their right brains. Tearing papers were echoing everywhere in the section. Loud mental groans from every school teens dominated in the class. Frustration mixed with determination to make a possible masterpiece were obviously transparent on their hopeless faces. Dassah who eventually ended her write-up stood up from her armchair, and submitted it to her English teacher. 

Ma'am Rhea was impressed, and took her ample time to read her three-stanza poem. As she perused Dassah's work, she smiled in delight.

"Miss Quinn."

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"I have a dumb question," the instructor said. She glanced at her unknowing student in mischief, and continued her talk.

" Are you in love?"

"NO WAY, MA'AM," Dassah yelled at her teacher. Her classmates instantly shifted their gaze at the two. She became flustered, and softly spoke, "Umm... Sorry, ma'am. I was just shocked. But, no, I am not, ma'am."

"And what makes you think that I'm uh..."

Ma'am Rhea replied, still smiling, "In love?"

Dassah slowly nodded in embarrassment,"Uh-huh."

"It's just my assumption. It seems the message of your poem conveys about a clichè romance like this love at first sight kind of scene. Ah. Reminds me of my first young love,"  Ma'am Rhea Azuela said, feeling the nostalgia of her past teen era.

"And, what's even more interesting is that I instructed you to have a poem that talks about your life encounters." Dassah's teacher continued.

"Then, I thought I might be wrong, so which is why I asked you."

Dassah again nodded as an abiding servant, and the English teacher spoke again herself, "So, mind if I ask you the story behind this piece of yours?"

"Um... Sure, Ma'am. But, it already says it all," Dassah said.

"It's basically this. I met a guy at a convenience store, and I did not forsee anything that we would see each other for the second time around. And for me, I was happy it happened for the both of us."

Ma'am Rhea could no longer hide her squeals, and let it out without any reservation.

"Oh, ignore my giggles. The story was too cute. But hey, Miss Quinn. This is your prize," she commented, and gestured her to move closer. Dassah came near to her instructor in obedience.

"You'll present it to the other class."

"Ma'am?!" Dassah exclaimed in terror.

"Shh... Don't tell anyone," she warned the young lady.

"But, but..."

Ma'am Rhea smiled, and said, "You may go back to your seat, Miss Quinn."

Dassah heaved a sigh of defeat, and move herself back to her armchair.  Floating her countless regrets of submitting her poem, the young lady had enough of the trap, and let the situation sail by itself.

Dassah Quinn had left no choice but to stay with a perfect stranger. Yearning for someone who would help them get out of trouble and leave the olden storage room is her gleam of hope. 

In the course of incarceration, Dassah unexpectedly entailed herself in a scheme of discerning the nondescript man, One One.

"That kid...he actually misses me!" cried Plagg, rolling on Mari's desk.

"That's why I told you, you can go home. Wayzz is there with you so I believe you'll both be fine." replied Marinette, who seems to be busy scribbling something.

"What is that?" he floats circling around Mari's hands.

"I am writing lyrics for Luka's song. I can't believe I used that as an alibi. Now I'll have to really start writing so we could have something to work on tomorrow." she said, her hand pushing against her temples.

"I thought you were going to help Adrien look for his cat?" Plagg crossed his arms.

Marinette glances, frowning at the cat, "You are aware I'm too guilty to do that, right? I really thought he lost an actual cat."

"I am a cat!"

"You are a kwami, Plagg." she corrects, "I feel really bad for Chat, and that feeling is drowning me twice as much, knowing he's also Adrien."

"You don't have to sound so guilty about it. I took the initiative of staying away from him. You lost Tikki, how am I supposed to be at ease with that?"

"And he lost you Plagg." she replied with sad eyes, "We both know how sad Adrien's childhood been. He's never had many friends and had never had the chance to go out much. You're one of the reasons why Adrien can become himself throught Chat Noir. I just...hope you don't forget that."

Marinette and the little black ends up staring at each other.

"Nothing is going to get resolved by this." he whispered in a serious tone.

Plagg then decides to float away from Marinette, frustrated of himself. He flies to Tikki's bed at Marinette's headboard, pondering whether he did the right thing or maybe what he did made things more complicated than it already is.

* * * * * * * * *

"Don't forget to practice your piano today." reminded Natalie before she closed the door.

As soon as the secretary disappeared, the boy plunges himself to his bed, staring at the ceiling.

"The cheese disappeared when morning came. He must have dropped by while I was sleeping." he mumbles to himself, sighing, "Oh Plagg, where are you?"

"Do not worry about Plagg." said Wayzz levitating out of Adrien's bag. The boy was awfully surprised crawling away from his bag in fear before he realized it was just Master Fu's former kwami.

"Wayzz?" he said crawling back to him.

"Hello, Adrien." Wayzz courteously bowed.

"What were you doing in my bag? And what do you mean 'not to worry'? Do you know where Plagg is?"

Wayzz smiled, "Fear not, Plagg is out on a mission with the guardian. He should come back to your side soon."

"Plagg is with Ladybug?"

"Correct. In the meantime, the master sent me to keep you company." he proudly grinned. Wayzz remembered what Marinette told him. Tell Chat the truth but walk around the truth, and Wayzz did it wonderfully.

"And what it this mission you speak of?" Adrien cocks an eyebrow, crossing his legs on his bed.

"A very important mission." Wayzz said confidently. That didn't give him the answer he wanted.

"And why does Plagg have to do it without me when I'm his partner?" he pries.

"Uhh..well that is..." Wayzz stutters. The kwami realized the only answer to that was because Ladybug lost Tikki and Plagg deliberately decided to be by her side. 

Adrien leans in pressuring Wayzz, "Well?"

Gulp. "I am sorry I cannot tell you. It's highly confidential for now." Wayzz exclaimed eyes closed. Adrien realizes how unfair it was for him to corner Wayzz when he was just doing his job.

Adrien chuckles, "Ease up, I'm not going to roast you more of this." he said smiling with lonely eyes, "It's just sad how I feel like I'm too useless to function."

Wayzz felt a pinch in his heart, "That is not  true!" He floats up to his face, surprising the dear boy, "Master Fu chose you as Chat Noir because he knew despite your circumstances, you have a good heart. You know how it feels to be broken and you know how to deal with it. That's why you complete Ladybug who is continuously broken everyday unaware of what to do. You compliment each other. And yet..." Wayzz pauses, feeling down, "I wonder why she would rather shoulder all of it to herself when she knows she's about to fall apart."

Adrien looked stunned hearing all of those. He never knew he held that kind of responsibility apart from saving Paris.

* * * * * * * * * *

A mountain of scribbled paper is supposed to be a sign of a writer's creative dump, but for Marinette, it was just dump. None of her creative juices were working so she leans back to her chair, feeling drained and helpless. 

"This isn't working." she mumbles to herself, "I got one four-lined stanza and I don't even think it makes any sense." she groans covering her face, "I'm a disaster."

She notices the room has become quiet and the black cat was nowhere near her.

"Plagg?" she decides to call for him. There was no response. "Where is that cat?" she stands up breezing around her room. She opens her trunks, flips her cushion, peeks under the lamp, no Plagg. She glances up to her loft hoping he'd be there.

"Pla....gg?" she said, her head peeking out from the end of the bed. There he was, sleeping on Tikki's bed. Marinette felt relieved he hadn't left. She worried he might have decided to go back and disappeared without saying a word.

"He's sleeping." she crawls over her sheets, getting close to the curled up cat. Marinette notices a trail of water that had rolled down on Plagg's cheek. "He must have cried himself to sleep." she swooped in her hand, lifting Plagg to her, "I know I'm not the only one sacrificing right now. You're in a lot more pain being away from Adrien. He's your best friend after all." she whispers sadly.

Plagg began to gain awareness of his surrounding. The little guy was shocked finding himself on Mari's palm as he sluggishly rubbed the sleep from his eye.

"Marinette?" he slowly got up.

"Did I wake you?" she replied.

Plagg shook his head, "I was feeling a bit tired so I took a nap."

"I know." she smiled, "But I want to apologize for saying all those things earlier. I know you're trying your best to stay away from Adrien to keep him safe and yet I selfishly told you to go home so he'd feel better. I didn't consider the sacrifice you had to make."

Plagg blinked, "No, don't say that. You were right. It's unfair how I just left Adrien without a word. I should have went home with Nooroo that night and explained to him in the morning how I'll need to be gone for a while."

The two fell silent.

"I still think you should at least see Adrien, but I don't like the idea of you being in the same house as Hawkmoth." Mari explained.

"Why don't you just go with me?" Plagg suggests.

Mari frowns, "But I can't transform into Ladybug without Tikki. He'll figure out my identity if I turn into something else."

"Then what about that?" Plagg gestures playing the flute.

Mari gasps realizing what he meant, "Of course! You're brilliant Plagg!" she exclaimed pulling the kwami into a cheek hug.

"You finally recognize my talent." he smugly replied.

The story is a fictional continuation from where the series has ended so far. Adrien now decides to date Kagami and Marinette has lost hope of her dream relationship with Adrien. Luka now officially courts Marinette making her feel that maybe Luka is the right one for her. She now decides to support Adrien and lives up to how she's always been to him―a very good friend. But will Marinette be able to hold her feelings back once she finds out the truth about Adrien?

Pieces of crumpled up paper littered the floor. A small apartment measuring less than 400 sq feet, the only place he could call home. Sitting at his desk Alvin scrapped yet another idea from the thick notebook that he had grown used to writing in.
He couldn't understand why it was so hard to come up with just one good idea, maybe he just wasn't cut out for this industry. The thought was a bit humbling as he heaved out a big sigh.
He didn't know what had gotten into him or why he had decided to become a writer. Growing up reading and diving deep into novels had become a bit of a habit one that had stuck with him since even after he graduated. The only people who knew what he did for a living could be counted on one hand.
In fact no one knew that he wanted to become a writer not until that day he somehow submitted a short story for a competition and it got listed. Though he didn't get first place the memory of him taking the stage to take a photograph still replayed vividly in his mind.
He had won a special prize for most creative interpretation. The competition was one where writers had to create a fictional piece of work based on a theme. Staring at his front he could still see the plastic award he received that year, more than two years ago.
Since graduating he had slowly joined the workforce just like everybody else. While his job was nothing glamorous it still could be said to be a good job. Working as a clerk in a large department store his salary was stable and the hours were fixed just what he needed for his first job. It was the reason he was able to move out of his house that he shared with his brother and parents.
Everyone was happy especially his brother who was more than eager for him to move out quicker so he could change his room. Looking at the clock Alvin stared as the hands on its face which showed it was almost eight at night. His stomach made a funny noise reminding him that he hadn't eaten yet. He'd been too caught up trying to write down the ideas in his head after work that he had already forgotten.
Turning around he threw his clothes off his body as he bodly walked away naked to the bathroom. There was no one at home and really this was the only reason a guy would want to move out. Sometimes they just liked the freedom of being in the wild just like their ancestors in the past that had survived the cold and the heat hunting wearing only a slip of cloth.
The sound of water soon sounded in the background as Alvin opened the shower. The small bathroom did not have room for a bath, not that he needed one. Running the hot water over his body his mind continued to replay the scene in his mind, the one he had been writing about.
What was more exciting than the sound of wolves rustling in woods as they chased a person on their last breath. Writing that part had been fun, only halfway he had already lost the direction he had been planning to put onto paper. Did he want the character to die or just luckily escape?
A disgruntled mumbling emitted from the small bathroom among the steam that rose into the air. It was not long after that that Alvin came out with a towel draped over his body before putting the kettle to boil in the open kitchen of his apartment.
Nothing could beat the taste of a packet of noodles on an empty stomach at least not the way he made it. Some chopped spring onions and two poached eggs was everything he needed to finish the simple but tasty meal.
Finishing putting his clothes on, the slumped figure of a young man sitting in front of a table could be seen. The constant sounds of slurping making anyone listening hungry, especially the sight of the yellow liquid that spread over the clean broth noodles mixed with the pungent smell of spring onions. Absolutely delicious!
Finishing his meal Alvin walked back to the lonely desk where he would spend most of his time 'working'. As an aspiring writer he knew that practise was the only way he could survive the cruel road to the top. Hours passed as a slumped body finally fell asleep on the table, water quietly pooling out of his mouth as his saliva created a small water bed.
Unfortunately that night was the last night that Alvin would ever spend on Earth. Outside the room the sky continued to rain bringing a downpour that lasted more than a few hours. Unusual but nothing that drew more than a brief mention on the news. However it was not an ordinary night, all over the world many strange things happened including hail in the desert.
Overnight thousands and thousands of people continued their lives only to realise too late that they would never wake up again. Nobody knew the reason for it and scientists after who studied the phenomenon could only conclude that only a small portion of the human population had been affected their state no different than a person in a coma. However this was far from the truth, sometimes could not be explained through science after all.
A blinding light seemed to approach him as Alvin struggled to open his eyes, his head still stuck in the clouds as he wondered if he had forgotten to turn off the lights again in his room. Still a dawning realisation soon displaced this thought as he found himself facing a thing he could never have expected.
A long tentacle of light that was see through reached out to wrap his body as it slowly brought him closer and closer to the middle of the room where a strange thing was happening. Glancing around him he could see he was not the only person in the room in fact hundreds if not thousands of tenctacles like the one that wrapped around him struggled with bodies like him. 
It was only now that he could hear the muffled voices of those around him as they tried to escape the same scene. His mind remained blank and only one thought kept replaying inside, he had to escape!
Activated by fear his mind seemed to turn quicker than normal as he tried to figure out a way out of his current situation. That was also the moment he remembered that he had one way left, his hands moved quickly to try and reach his pocket as he struggled to take out a pen he always carried with him. 
A desparate glow appeared in Alvin's eyes as he stabbed down at the tentacle that was wrapped around his body. The consequence of his action seemed to have little effect, nothing more than a pebble thrown into the sea. 
For the first time in his life Alvin had an abnormal thought, he didn't want to end up as food for the monster that was dragging him closer and closer to the center of the room.
His eyes stared at the pen in his hands that had gone through the tentacle of light without any result. The struggle of wanting to live and dying a strange death played in his mind. Without turning back, he decisively stabbed the pen towards his neck.

By some miraculous twist of fate a failed writer finds himself in a world he never expected to exist. However he has a system? And he is in a baby's body!? 

What is exactly going on?

Wang Ming Yang's office.
Yang Chen, Wu Huan Yue and the rest were there.
Wang Ming Yang looked at Lin Fan. "Why are you in such a hurry to produce a new album?"
He still didn't understand why Lin Fan was so impatient. But Lin Fan couldn't tell him the true reason. To complete a task? That would sound so stupid.
"It's nothing much, I have a lot of songs in my head and I've been feeling extremely creative, so I have to do it. If not, I'd feel uncomfortable." The explanation was sound and perfect.
Wang Ming Yang was stunned. The explanation sounded legitimate.
Yang Chen was an extremely experienced composer. He had nothing to say about that explanation. At the same time, he was convinced. If other composers were to hear his explanation, they'd definitely be infuriated. Other composers had to think about a lot of things to make a song while Lin Fan actually said that he had too many songs. That was crazy.
Wu Huan Yue was considered a public figure now. She was more cautious of her actions and words. Then, she smiled. "I am fully confident in Brother Lin's composing capabilities. I believe it will be on par with 'Sky'."
Lin Fan smiled confidently. "Of course. It'll be even better than that."
Lin Fan's entire head was filled with songs. He couldn't even count them. It might be in thousands or even tens of thousands. According to the Encyclopedia's explanation, it covered the entire world's songs. They were in every single language. It was simply insane.
If not for his lack of talent in singing, he would definitely have used those songs and become a legend in the music industry. He didn't know what to do with the excessive songs in his head. Regardless of how good the songs were, he didn't think that they were good anymore. It was too much for him.
Yang Chen and Wang Ming Yang were stunned by Lin Fan. Especially when Yang Chen heard Lin Fan say that the songs would be even better than 'Sky'. It felt as if he was bragging.
"Do you have a pen and paper?" Lin Fan asked.
Wang Ming Yang was stunned. "Why?"
Lin Fan looked at Wang Ming Yang. "What else? I want to write down the songs. Then, we can record them quickly."
Yang Chen and Wang Ming Yang were shocked. Even Wu Huan Yue was speechless. She hadn't expected Brother Lin to be so hasty. Did he really mean what he said? Was there really a sea of songs in his head?
Lin Fan took the pen and paper and immediately started writing.
Yang Chen and Wang Ming Yang looked at each other in confusion. Then, they turned to Lin Fan. Lin Fan suddenly stopped writing. It was as if he was deep in thought.
They thought that Lin Fan was thinking about the lyrics but Lin Fan was actually thinking about which song to write. He had never heard the songs before and he didn't know if the songs were nice. But the good thing was that the Encyclopedia was reliable and there were a lot of different genres within the selection of songs. Then, he immediately copied the songs from the Encyclopedia.
*sound of paper moving*
The pen moved extremely quickly and soon, the papers were filled up.
Yang Chen was stunned after witnessing everything. It seemed too unreal.
Wang Ming Yang didn't even understand what was going on but he felt that Lin Fan was really awesome. Then, he nudged Yang Chen, "Teacher Yang, what do you think?"
"I can't tell for now. I have to see how the songs sound like." Yang Chen was extremely curious. He didn't know what was going to happen even though he was considered an extremely experienced composer. He had seen a lot of great composers, even those that were able to compose songs immediately. However, those songs that were composed quickly didn't do well at all.
However, he had to see what was going to happen.
After some time.
Lin Fan placed the pen on the table. "Alright, it's done."
Wang Ming Yang didn't understand how crazy his actions were but Teacher Yang was flabbergasted. "Master Lin, that's all?"
Lin Fan smiled. "Yeah, let's see if it works."
Although Wu Huan Yue wasn't a composer, she read through some of the lyrics and felt that the lyrics were extremely easy to read and sing.
Yang Chen slowly read through the sheets in doubt.
'A Thousand Wrongs'
As I looked back at the nights that used to belong to us.
The red sky was you and you gave me the colorful sun.
…
As he continued reading, Yang Chen was extremely shocked. Then, he looked at Lin Fan. "Master Lin, these lyrics…"
He stopped. He felt that these lyrics didn't sound like they were supposed to be sung in Mandarin. The grammar was weird.
Lin Fan smiled. "This song is in Cantonese."
"Indeed." Yang Chen nodded and looked at Lin Fan curiously. "But nowadays, Cantonese songs aren't that popular. Do you think there will be a problem?"
Lin Fan obviously didn't know the current trend but according to the Encyclopedia, this was an unfailing song. There must have been a reason for that.
"It's okay. Let's see how it goes after Huan Yue sings it," Lin Fan said confidently.
He trusted her and the Encyclopedia.
Yang Chen gasped involuntarily. However, he was stunned. The tune seemed one of a kind.
Although they didn't know what to expect, it would definitely be an awesome song.
Then, he continued reading.
Wang Ming Yang asked curiously, "How many did you write?"
Lin Fan replied, "Ten songs."
Wang Ming Yang was stunned. "Ten songs? This album doesn't need so many songs."
Lin Fan smiled. "What's wrong with that? Let's fire away. This is going online. We have to make more songs."
Lin Fan wanted all the song credits to be his, except the singing part. The task had to be completed, right?
He felt that it was really difficult to choose the songs as he didn't know which sounded nice. However, he just followed the charts. The songs on top shouldn't be a problem at all.
"Alright." Then, Yang Chen was stunned. He looked at Lin Fan in shock. "Besides the Cantonese song that I'm unsure of, the other songs are masterpieces. However, these songs are different from current popular songs. They are focusing on feelings and they don't have any falsetto parts."
Lin Fan smiled. "Of course! What do you need falsetto parts for?"
Yang Chen was a composer himself and he was extremely convinced by Lin Fan. "I'm impressed. I'm really impressed. Any of these songs could have been a hit in the past and even now. They are amazing songs."
It was easy to distinguish between a good song and a bad one. If an average person felt good after listening to it, it'd be considered to be a good song.
Lin Fan had specially selected the songs and he was confident in them. He was looking forward to the completion of his task.


I am Lin Fan and I've become a jack of all trades just because of a powerful Encyclopedia. 
In the first ever competition organised for trolls, all the other contestants lost. The crowd exclaimed, "Brother, you're so good at trolling." 
Lin Fan replied, "But I've never been trolling..."

　After eating, Lin Xu entered the study room again. Lin Jian was very pleased with this. Haha smiled and said: "It is the merit of the singer. The rise of the singer has not only brought the Holy Power to me, but also brought the Holy Power to me. Even the gangs have used a lot of work. But who is this singer? It should not be in Kyoto, it may be in a local college, tomorrow, let local people look up and see if there are such good seedlings. !"

　　Lin Xu re-entered into the St. Wen. After so many world recommendations from the Great God, Lin Xu's "Water Melody" actually broke through the million mark in a meal, reaching the point of 13,000 subscriptions. After all, most of you were still skeptical about Lin Xu's article. What good things can a child write? Therefore, although many people saw Lin Xu's update, they did not go to see his article. Until such a big god recommended, he finally made his subscription show a blowout.

　　Lin Xu's greatest sacred power has also risen directly to more than 5,000. Because of the one-on-one breakthrough rewards, Shengli will continue to grow with the increase of sales. For every hundred dollars sold, you can grow a little holy. Force, this sale is not a reward.

　　Lin Xu didn't pay much attention to other things. There are so many subscriptions. If your own updates can't keep up, it's a waste of so many subscriptions. You must take advantage of this good opportunity and update some things. The novel can't be updated. Then update the poetry.

　　However, Lin Xu's most important thing is to buy a more convenient input tool, so he opens the mall. The mall is divided into several categories: "Sacred Learning Class", "Saint Wenling Class", and "Shengli Attack Skills Class". , "Wenbao Class", "St. Lidan", "Wenbao Refining Law", "St. Lidan Refining Law", "Saint Lidan Medicinal Materials", "Wenbao Materials", "Others" class"!

　　After Lin Xu read the introduction, he clicked on the "Wenbao" class. It turned out that these writers were all written by the writers and writers themselves. Lin Xu knew that these things can be homemade. It is necessary for me to learn such a production skill, to make the most convenient pen, and even to find a way to make the keyboard. At that time, I can fly.

　　However, it is still necessary to first look at whether you can buy a hard pen, so he puts a pen in the Wenbao class, and a whole bunch of strange pens appear in front of him.

　　The level of Wenbao is divided into: spirit, holy, and god.

　　Lin Xu can only use Lingbao as a writer, and junior writers can only use the primary Lingbao. Because the primary Lingbao enters the holy text, a word only costs about 10 points. Intermediate Lingbao needs to spend about 20 points.

　　The junior writer has just been promoted. Generally, there are only three thousand points of holy power. If you write with the intermediate Lingbao, you will reach two hundred words. I am afraid that there will be four thousand holy forces. If the writer is a junior writer, he will not be able to breathe. After writing the article, if the Holy Spirit is restored, it is better to use the primary Lingbao to write. Although it is slower than the intermediate Lingbao, it is faster than restoring the Holy Spirit.

　　Moreover, more importantly, the price of the primary Lingbao starts from one thousand holy coins, while the price of the intermediate Lingbao starts from five thousand holy coins. The price difference is really too big, and the non-local tyrants will not be at the primary writer. Buy intermediate-level Lingbao at the stage.

　　Although Lin Xu had more than 10,000 holy coins after the division, it was better to use the primary Lingbao, so he chose the primary Lingbao.

　　A slippery spirit pen is a primary spiritual treasure, all kinds of, including the author's whimsy, and each has its own advantages and disadvantages, and from the price, costly, writing speed can be judged some spiritual pen The price/performance ratio comes.

　　However, if Lin Xu just buys an ordinary pen, it is better to continue to use the existing one. He wants to try his luck and see if he can have a hard pen. If not, he should consider whether he is taking the time to learn. The skills created by Wenbao, and then make a pen out.

　　Fortunately, Lin Xu found that there is a pen that resembles a hard pen. This is a kind of pen that is similar to the principle of a water core pen. Before writing, you need to pour ink into the pen holder behind the pen, and then you can start writing. However, a tube of ink, it is estimated to write about a thousand words, but also to refill the ink.

　　Lin Xu looked at the above introduction. It turned out that an Wenbao refiner was in the early stage, and suddenly had a whimsy. He felt that it was too much trouble to use ink on his brush. So he invented this pen, but everyone's sacred text. The teacher started with the first word practice, wrote a brush for a few years, and who would easily change his pen? Therefore, his pen hangs here for decades, and there are many people watching it, but no one has placed an order until Lin Xu orders to buy it.

　　And when Lin Xu bought this pen, among a group of Wenbao makers, a person named Qixiang sent a message: "Someone bought my pen!"

　　"Just kidding, although your pen is creative, but it is too hard to write, it is not suitable for writing! UU reading www.uukanshu.com"

　　"Yeah, who is likely to buy your pen, you are wrong!"

　　"If you really buy it, it must be a fool!"

　　So the whimsy issued a sales record and said: "You look at it, it is he bought my pen!"

　　Everyone looked at it and was amazed because the record they saw was: "Sauer bought your primary pen and got 1099 holy coins!"

　　"I rely on, Sao, this is not the writer who just broke the record of the junior writer's assessment today?"

　　"More than that, an article he wrote today was recommended by Jiujian Dashen!"

　　"Sure enough, the wonderful people have wonderful ideas. He bought all your wonderful pens!"

　　Imagine: "Haha... I said it earlier. I only know the benefits of this pen when I can only understand the benefits of it. I really didn't expect it. It was a genius who bought it! Haha... Since Saskatchewan supports it I, in the future, I am his iron powder. I don't want this 1099 holy coin. I will reward him to Sao, and I will be his iron powder!"

　　Everyone: "..."

　　Lin Xu didn't know that he could bring out so many things when he bought a pen. At the moment, he discovered that he actually had a virtual space. The pen he bought was lying in the virtual space. Lin Xu thought, this one The pen went to his own hand.

　　"I don't know if I can put it in again?" So he thought, so the pen in his hand went into the space again. "Sure enough, try something else!"

　　So Lin Xu tried a variety of things, and found that ordinary things can't be put into space, only things related to the holy text can be put into the space. This is very convenient, at least not to carry the pen and paper on the body.

Bad grammar is to be expected
read with caution
Been translated to english 
read before webnovel get me
10 Chapter per day
Number of chapter in chinese:130
Status:Cancel/Taking a break
you can read it on my website as well 
Discord link https://discord.gg/sG7DVsM

[NOTE: Paragraphs written between two (*) are third person narrative. The narrative starts before the space after the (*), and ends at the (*) before the space.]

I opened my eyes from a dreamless slumber, as the sun behind me from my window woke me up. I can feel my back getting a little wet with sweat. It is summer, so the sun is warm. My eyelashes against my hair is making my eyes irritated, and some of it even went between my lips. 

I saw the room as it was lit up by the invading sunlight, papers and bottles scattered throughout the place that I never cared to clean them, because of how scarce my time is. My posters of Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, and Bridge to Terabithia lined up on the walls. Even though I am Japanese, I read a lot of untranslated English books. Because you can sum up my life as a life full of books. I've read hundreds of books since I was a child.

I sat up on my bed and thought about this day as another day.

Another day in this body. 

A paper thin body. 

Thin enough to be satisfied by bits of food. 

Food not from my chosen profession.

But from a part-time job.

I faced at the mirror and looked at my body. It is very thin indeed. I am not at least concerned on how I look, for it doesn't matter for me. How I look doesn't affect my writing. My vision is blurry, because I needed glasses to see, but it is fine. I am still inside my familiar home. I don't need to see to find things, but memory of where I put them as they are. 

I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I put just enough to toothpaste on the toothbrush so that it could last me for a few more days. It was minty and fresh. I looked at the mirror on the sink. Damn, I look horrible. 

After I finished with it, I always comb my hair before I went to shower, because mom said that the hair is weak when wet. Combing the hair after a bath will destroy it. I always kept doing it that way, and I should tell you that my hair is the only thing that's been taken care of in this apartment. We had this family tradition of taking a good care of the hair. She even sends me shampoos and hair products to keep my hair healthy. 

I went to have a shower. It is very refreshing, and I didn't need to worry about the water being cold, for it is summer. God bless summer. I stayed there for a while after I finished putting shampoo and stuff. I don't know why, but the splashing sounds, and the flowing water on my skin makes me feel relaxed. After that, I used other hair products for my hair.

I changed into my strap and shorts so that I could get started writing a new light novel story.

I wonder if something changes. 

A change that will change my life. 

A life of repeating a day like this. 

That makes me feel like I am trapped in an endless loop of time. 

I want something to change. 

I went to the fridge to get some apple. One is enough to fill my stomach for a day. I know it's unhealthy kind of diet, but I have no choice, because I have a rent to worry about. Thinking of that, I need to work on my new story now, so I pulled a piece of A4 paper from inside the drawer of my desk, and put on my glasses. 

I am really particular about the time, so I always check it whenever I get the chance. In that way, I can be more productive. I looked at my phone, and it is 10:36 am of July 20, 2019, so I got no time to waste. I started writing. 

I don't have galleries of my friends, but only a gallery of rejected manuscripts in the shelf beside me at the right. These manuscripts were rejected only because the publisher said that I don't understand the feelings of my characters so it makes the story unnatural. 

I don't have many friends since I was a child. All I ever had was my books. Most of the time, I would sit on a bench under a tree, and away from the other kids so that I could read my book in peace. I even doubt that my classmates even remember me. 

I am amazed by the world the writers create with their imagination, and how they stir up the emotions of the readers, even if they are just written characters on a piece of paper. It inspired me to write my own story to share the wonders of fiction. 

My mother realized this, and she believed in me without a second thought. She believed that I could become a great writer someday, and that I could do great things. She gave me a big book on my 8th birthday. Tokugawa Ieyasu - the longest Japanese novel ever written in one book. I loved it, and that was the day that I decided to make her proud.

My mother and me were left by my father after he passed away when I was only two years old. I only heard stories about him from my mother, and she told every story like he never died. I know it was hard for her to raise me alone, but she didn't give up to stop my uncle interfering with my life. She said that my uncle who is her older brother is now the head of the family that owns a great area of rice fields. Arranged marriages were a thing in her family. It's even a reason why she escaped from them and lived with my father, in Chiba. She's afraid that I will not be free to choose who I loved if I stayed there with uncle. 

I am finished with my new story, and I see that it is already 3:10 pm. It is time to take this manuscript to the publishing company. I changed into my "going out" clothes - which is simply a summer sweater and a loose jeans. I don't like showing my skin, because it is embarrassing, even if it is summer. 

I went out with my manuscript inside my cheap, brown handbag. Then there were three women at the balcony of the open corridors of the apartment. They were looking at the view of Tokyo from the this floor. They are at the far right, but I could tell what they are whispering about. I acted like I didn't hear. 

"Here comes the cave woman," one of them whispered while I locked my door. They laughed softly. This happens every morning that I got used to it eventually. I don't bother to confront them as much as I hate it, unless they touch me. 

I went to climb down the stairs, because I feel uncomfortable taking the elevator with other people. I am living in the 8th floor of this building, so it's quite tiresome when going up. 

On the train station, that is a ten minute walk from my apartment, I went through one of the gates with my IC card. Then I fell in line behind the people who are waiting for the next train. 

I am passing this manuscript to a publishing company where all of my friends work (two of them, to be exact).

A train arrived and we entered, and a lot of people went out of the cabs. After that, we entered and luckily, I found an empty seat at the left side of the train, just near the door. 

I spent my time reading a light novel I bought yesterday. After a couple of minutes, I finally arrived at the train station I am getting off. Now, it is just a twenty minute walk to the publishing company. 

I saw the building, where it was based. It is averagely beautiful like the rest of the buildings here in Tokyo. I went to the entrance, and there was a guard walking around the area it is located. 

"Good afternoon, Matsuno-san!" I greeted him, while bowing. He is one of my friends in this building. I always have to pass by him everyday I went here. He is a man near the retiring age, but he was kind and always radiant because of his smile, as much as he loves his job very much. 

"Oh," he smiled at me. "Good afternoon to you too, Hattori-chan." 

I stopped for a minute for a chat. It wouldn't hurt if only just for a minute. "How's your daughter doing in school?" I asked. 

"She's doing great. And how about you? Did you finish another story?"

"Yes, I am about to hand it over."

"Good," he smiled. "Good luck, and do your best! May your work be published."

I bowed down once more and said, "Thank you, I'll do my best."

I went inside, and to the elevator. I don't like it, but I have to, so I could pass my work in schedule. My other friend is Takeda that I've known since high school. He works here as a copy editor. I always hand my manuscripts to him so he could make the leading editor check it out. I always crossed my fingers, wishing that this time I will get published. I crossed my fingers a hundred times, but none of my stories were published. I feel heavy inside everytime I do this. I would've given up a long time ago, but that's not me. I don't break a promise. 

The door of the elevator opened and I did the proper etiquette in elevators. I felt relieved after I went out. It was really uncomfortable for me even if I do it everyday. 

*
A man standing up while reading a piece of paper in his office. The whole office was full of papers and books of different kinds. There are many notes posted on the walls, and the computer is still running. The man looked serious about his work, and shows his dedication for it. He adjusts his glasses everytime it slips while reading. 

"Takeda-kun," said someone from the other side of his small office. Takeda is the name of the man holding a paper, and he stopped what he's doing. "Hattori-chan is looking for you." He pulled a munscript from the shelf. "How long are you gonna keep her waiting?" Suddenly, he put up a smile, and went to the door. 

"Right, right," he said. 

"Waiting for you to ask her out?" said the man and laughed. 

"Oh, just shut up."

He opened it and saw Hattori brushing her hair over her left ear while looking to the side. She was startled that her glasses slipped, so she fixed it and put up a smile. while looking at Takeda. 

Takeda thought: "So cute..."

"Good afternoon, Takeda-kun," she said. "May I give my manuscript?"

He smiled and said, "Ah, of course."

"I hope I am not interrupting anything," she said while leaning to see what's going on inside. 

Takeda takes the manuscript. "Don't be like that, Hattori-chan. We've been friends for a long time. I will never hesitate to help you."

"Oh, uhh... Thank you so much, Takeda-kun."

"Don't mention it."

"Hey, TAKEDA!" said an angry woman who seems to be the boss. "No slacking off!"

He looked nervous as he answered while turning his whole body back to the office. "Yes, I'm sorry. I'll get back to work as soon as possible, Miyashita-sensei!"

"Stop being so noisy, Takeda-kun!" said a random officemate.

"I'm sorry!"

He hands her over a different manuscript while smiling nervously. He closes the door slowly and said, "I'll see you later, bye..."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. 

"Okay."

Finally, the door closed. 
*

I really got him into a trouble. I feel guilty about it.

I looked at the manuscript he gave me.

"Welcome to the collection," I said to the it.

I don't know why I keep storing them, but I felt bad when thinking of throwing them away.

"Still not giving up," I said to myself, while crossing my fingers. 

I went home after that, and it is already dusk when I came back, because I took some time to think about another story by walking slowly. I entered my apartment, and I saw my cat. I didn't see him this morning, because he goes out sometimes through the window at the kitchen. I specifically chose this apartment so that I could keep him. Meet Akihiko, my beloved cat. He rubbed his head against my foot. I carried him up like a baby - because that's what he wants. 

He is a cat that I just found in the streets years ago, when I was still studying in college. major in creative writing. I love cats, but my mother didn't let me have one, so I decided that I will have a cat as soon as I start living alone. I thought about what kind of breed I will get, but then I saw him. He was just a little kitten back then. He was so thin and dirty, and when I took him home, I washed and fed him. His beautiful grey fur showed. 

I lied down my bed after changing my clothes, and looked up to the ceiling, while Akihiko slept on the bed. I thought about my lacking. My characters don't decide like real human beings. That's because I isolated myself from other people so I didn't have the chance to observe their actual behavior. I kind of regret that. I wish I knew earlier that writing isn't just learning from books. I have to do something about it. 

But it is time for work. 

I stood up and I realized I am shedding a tear. I didn't yawn or anything, but I definitely felt disappointed. I wiped it and went to change into my working clothes.

Hattori, a girl that aspires to have one of her light novels to be published. Her dull life where nothing ever happens changed after she met and fell in love with Ishida. However, her dreams to become a published author depends on her relationship with her childhood friend, Takeda who always have been with her and loves her. 

What will she choose? A life with her dreams or a life with her love?

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