Chapter 1: The Damnable Novel

‘What the actual fuck am I reading?’

The thought never made it to his lips. But somewhere in the more civilized corner of his mind, a polite voice suggested he close the laptop, and then… yeet it out of his window.

Luckily, he didn't.

Because that would cost him a lot of money. He needed to be careful, as he was closer to broke than his last New Year’s resolution.

Lamenting the idiocy of the sentence structure, he scrolled back and reread it again.

“The hero glared heroically into the heroic sunset…?” he tentatively muttered aloud.

The man blinked a few times.

“What's with this ‘heroic’ redundancy? And what the fuck is heroic sunset supposed to mean?”

Giving the page another look, he read another sentence, determined to make sure that he wasn't the crazy one while reading the manuscript.

“His eyes were as blue as the bluest ocean—”

He took a deep breath, after holding it for too long, he exhaled a long suffering sigh.

Finally, he let it all loose.

“Cursed!!!”

“Alright. What’s next? ‘His sword was as sharp as a sharp sword’? Goddammit… This is… Ahh! I can feel it clogging my brain!”

‘What was she thinking while writing this blasphemous sentence?’

Shaking his head, the man turned his head and stared at the far wall where a corkboard leaned. It was covered in layers of paper clippings, screenshots, and segments of text printed out… dissected with obsessive care.

The thumbtacks held everything together and red threads were connected like blood vessels.

It was not a simple board. To him, it was an investigation for one specific criminal which he had managed to solve a few weeks ago.

‘I think solving a criminal case is more tolerable than proofreading this damnable novel.’

Ding!

His monitor lit up with a new notification.

[Chapter 1602 uploaded: The Hero Who Left the Academy – Beta Reading Access.]

[This will be the last chapter…]

‘Another chapter? So, 8 Chapters for today? What kind of lunatic writes at that pace?’

He yawned and stared at the screen, trying to decide if he should be impressed… or concerned for the author’s well-being.

“Huh? What did she mean this is the last chapter? The novel isn’t even finished yet…”

A dry chuckle escaped him.

He leaned back in his chair, letting his spine protest the hours spent hunched over the desk.

The glow of the monitor lingered in his vision as he turned his head. Beyond the frame of the window, the city flowed in its usual, sleepless procession.

Cars crawling like patient beetles and neon signs winking conspiratorially at each other.

The stars were mercifully unobscured, and distant as if someone had polished the night clean. The moon was swollen and watchful, presiding over it all.

‘At least, the moon is beautiful tonight.’

In its pale light, a reflection waited for him in the glass. The same weary eyes, the same expressionless face.

But then… a devious smile grew wider.

‘Huh? Maybe I’m the mad one,’ he thought serenely, examining his own absurdity.

‘Cause why the fucking hell am I still proofreading this stupid novel!?’

Yet, his fingers instinctively found their way back to the keyboard.

“Alright, one more chapter and I’m done for tonight.”

Click-clack.

After a long while of editing, his gaze drifted to the bottom corner of the monitor.

[10:27 PM. April 1, 2029]

His hands had gone still, resting on the keyboard.

The words on the screen swam faintly, their once-sharp edges softening. And then, only for a fraction of a second, he saw it. A few letters seemed to slip out of the paragraph’s rhythm, rearranging themselves into something else.

YUZUKI

He blinked.

“What the hell?”

YOU

The second word lingered even less than the first, dissolving before his mind could fully register it.

He leaned forward, searching the lines. But the text was normal again—utterly, stubbornly normal. As though it had never been anything else.

He sat back.

‘Perhaps too much caffeine for tonight.’

That seemed like a reasonable excuse for him.

The thought should have been amusing, but he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or worry. Because whatever it had been… it had felt real. And his body, at this hour, had far simpler priorities.

He needed sleep.

Then, his phone rang.

The sudden sound cut cleanly through the quiet, sharp and unwelcome.

He blinked, pulling himself back from whatever odd hallucination he had been drifting in, and turned toward the noise.

[Shindo]

‘Shit. Him again…’

The phone buzzed across the desk, its movement small but insistent.

Yuzuki stared at it, face devoid of emotion. He considered letting it ring itself into silence. That would have been easy. But he had his small petty habit that had long since become part of his personal life.

So, he waited until the third ring. Only then did he pick up the call.

“Yes?”

“Yuzuki-san!”

Shindo’s voice exploded through the speaker. Cheerful and far too loud for this hour.

Yuzuki was feeling a bit of regret.

“Got a sec? I need your insight on a case.”

Leaning back in his chair, he brought the phone closer to his ear.

‘Judging by his tone… probably nothing urgent.’

“Go on,” he said.

“You know the convenience store burglary last night? Security footage caught the guy on camera, but the mask makes ID’ing him a pain. We got nothing—no fingerprints, no distinct features. Just a black hoodie, dark jeans and gloves. The guy’s careful.”

Yuzuki let the words pass over him, his eyes resting on the shadows stretching across the far wall.

‘What? They haven’t figured it out yet?’

“The footage,” Yuzuki said finally, his voice impassive, “did you check the timestamp? When he entered.”

“Yeah, around 2:13 AM.”

“And when he left?”

“Uh… 2:18. Why?”

“Too fast.”

“Huh?” Shindo’s voice wavered.

“The register was emptied. Shelves ransacked. Five minutes inside a store full of cameras, alarms, and things that make noise when they break. Do you really believe someone just strolled in and managed to speedrun the whole thing completely alone?”

The line went quiet for a moment. Then Shindo’s voice came back, a little too loud.

“Wait… so you’re saying he wasn’t working ALONE?!!”

Yuzuki grimaced and pulled the phone away, putting distance between himself and the sheer volume of the man’s realization.

“Yes. He had an accomplice—someone on the inside,” Yuzuki said, his tone level, almost disinterested.

“Remember the rear camera? It conveniently went offline just before the break-in. The report said it was ‘malfunctioning,’ right?”

“Y-Yeah, but…” Shindo hesitated, his voice uncertain. “If someone tampered with the footage, why leave the thief visible on the front camera?”

Yuzuki began with a sigh.

“If you’re staging a cover-up, you don’t wipe everything.”

“That’s what amateurs do. No… what they did was smarter. They left just enough for everyone to chase… something messy, unplanned, believable. A distraction. Meanwhile, the real culprit was much closer than anyone realized.”

The line stayed quiet for another moment.

“…Wait,” Shindo said slowly, his voice dropping.

“So the footage… wasn’t a mistake?”

“Yes. It was bait,” Yuzuki replied. “Which means the real variable here isn’t the thief…”

Yuzuki let the words settle.

“It’s whoever was working the counter.”

“Check the shift schedule. If this was orchestrated from within, then the break-in was timed to the second. Someone made sure the right person was behind that register when it happened.”

“Got it, I knew you’d figure it out in under a minute!”

Shindo burst out laughing, practically vibrating through the speaker.

“That old geezer said you’re always freakishly lucky or something, but I know it’s just that you’re…”

Shindo’s voice faltered. An awkward throat-clear followed.

“Ahem! M-my bad. Sorry, Yuzuki-san. I forgot you don’t like being praised.”

Yuzuki blinked a few times.

His head tilted slightly. Behind his calm expression, his thoughts stalled like a machine trying to process corrupted data. He replayed the sentence in his head. And yet, the words remained nonsensical.

‘Since when did I say I hated praise?’

‘And… which old geezer?’

Since no answer came to his mind. He didn't say anything.

“Anyway!” Shindo continued, recovering with enthusiasm.

“Thanks again. I owe you one, Yuzuki-san. We’ll follow up on it from here.”

“Don’t bother.” Yuzuki quickly replied.

“…Eh?”

People always wanted to believe in clean trades. The idea of favors for favors, kindness repaid with gratitude. But the universe didn’t even keep receipts, so why should he?

So Yuzuki never asked for anything in return. He simply did what he did. He helped because it made sense and that was enough. Without waiting for a reply, Yuzuki ended the call.

The room swallowed the silence immediately.

The screen still lit up to the homepage of his nightly ritual:

‘Alright, time to send this to her.’

[The Hero Who Left the Academy.]

With a small click that barely made a sound, he saved the file, then opened Diskbox.

The thread was already there, second from the top.

[3 People] – marked as Online including himself, with a tiny green circle glowing quietly beside their name.

He didn’t hesitate to type the words.

[@SpicySteroids]: Finished the chapter. Feedback attached.

Casually, he pressed the enter button. Then… a jolt. Very sudden, and uninvited, tore through his right hand like static given malice.

“Tch.”

The laptop fell from the desk and bounced on the carpet. Yuzuki didn’t even flinch to catch it. He was puzzled, hands still twitching slightly with the aftershock.

He stared at his palm, then at the device on the floor.

‘What was that?’

He kneeled slowly next to the corpse of his laptop, and stared at the black screen. His distorted reflection was looking back at him from the glossy surface.

His face was tired and slightly disgusted.

Yuzuki reached his finger out and pressed the power button. The device did not respond. It remained inert, offering no sound.

Whether it was dead or only pretending, he couldn’t tell… and honestly, he wasn’t sure the difference mattered anymore.

Yuzuki let out a casual sigh.

His mind felt heavier than usual. He was really tired and sleepy. The thought of repair drifted through his mind and settled quietly there.

If the laptop was broken, he would deal with it tomorrow. If it caught fire, he would watch it burn from the same chair without moving an inch.

Because… the outcome didn't seemed urgent enough to demand more of him.

‘Yeah, I should just sleep and call it a day.’

He went to the bathroom to clean himself up before he climbed on his bed. His gaze drifted, without urgency, toward the device still lying on the floor.

‘But, why would it suddenly snap like that?’

He stared at it longer than he meant to.

‘Shit, I need to buy a new one. But I don't have enough money for that now…’

‘Should I do a part-time job then? No. What am I thinking? That's some crazy thought.’

His hand reached toward the switch beside the bed and turned off the light. The room became dark. He pulled the blanket up to his shoulders and shut his eyes.

Suddenly, just as the world began to fade at the edges, something happened.

On the carpet, where his attention had been moments before, the laptop sparked back to life. A violent bloom of garbled text, glitching and twitching across the monitor.

[FILE NAME: THE HERO WHO LEFT THE ACADEMY]

And then, below it, another line followed.

[IT WAS NEVER MEANT TO END LIKE THIS]

In an instant, the screen blinked out and the light died. For a moment, silence returned. But above the bed, in that thick, dense dark of his room…

A second figure was rising slowly.

It had his shape. His face. His exact sleeping posture. It hovered weightless and translucent like a reflection peeling itself free from the glass.

And all around, the room began to fracture.

The clean lines of furniture blurred at the edges. Corners bled into pixels, fragments lifting gently into the air—glitching.

The floor glowed. The desk broke and reformed. The reality itself fluctuated and glimmered, thread by thread as the world began to rebuild itself.

But then, it wasn’t the same world he knew anymore.

It entirely became something out of—

—a fictional story.

[WRITE A NEW ENDING... OR BE CONSUME WITH IT]