1 Prologue

"And you would do thing differently?"

"Not really," I replied and downed the entire shot glass. After allowing the strong alcohol sliding down my throat, leaving behind a burning sensation, I continued. "But I wouldn't be going around, trying to fix every little problem. Honestly, what is the fuck with that?"

"It has something to do with morality. People are naturally morally good. They cannot just go around and murder others for kicks and laughs. Of course, some wants to, but it is hard to actually do what in their heads, regardless of how fuck up their head is."

I blinked. "That sort of make sense, I guess. Despite how much I want to bash my boss' head in, I just cannot do it. Consequences and all of that."

"Yes. Consequences and all of that. But just out of curiosity, if you were in their position and knowing the fact that you could technically get away with it, what would you do?"

I blinked again, and I was unable to stop a devious grin crept up onto my face. "Truthfully? I would just troll everyone for the heck of it, try to bang every chick I see, and probably steal everything that isn't nailed down. I would do it too, not just talk or think about it."

"Booboobooboobs. Ahem. Sorry, force of habit."

I arched my brow. "Okay, that was the strangest laugh that I have ever heard, but whatever. I have to get back to work soon. My boss is a hard ass, but he pays me well. Well enough, I guess."

"Alright, I will leave you to it, but before you go, one last drink? This is on the house."

I was shocked. "What? The previous ones weren't?"

"Heh. Sorry, I got it wrong. This is on me. You might find it is a bit strong. It is a unique concoction, you see. One of a kind. Very unique."

I rolled my eyes and decided to take the offer. "Just for your information. I do find this secret club of yours a bit underwhelming. I know it is called Men of Culture, but at least have some eye candies, you know. Just something to look at while you get wasted."

"Booboobooboobs. Ahem. Yeah. No. That would offset our awesomeness, and besides, they wouldn't understand. Or approve."

I chuckled and downed the whole glass in one go before giving a salute. "Yeah, I guess. Alright. Thanks for the drink. Nice knowing you, but you can take –"

…

…

…

Honestly, I did not expect waking up in a bathtub full of ice cubes. Naked too. The fuck!? Ow. Pains on my side, where my kidneys supposed to be.

No. Way! Oh God! Please No!

After checking my kidneys were still inside my flabby mass, I climbed out of the bathtub and found a lot of bloods. Oh, wait. Not blood. Just red ink. Phew.

There was a note. Folded in half and sitting there above a pool of blood that connected to the bathtub like in some sort of horror movie.

"Sorry about that. We are troll at heart too, so you will fit right in. First off. Welcome to the Club. You will receive the initiation package in the mail within a week or so. Maybe a month. Depends on when we feel like it, really. Could be tomorrow. Likely not. Anyway, enjoy your gift."

That was it, and there was nothing else.

"Yeah, trolls, alright. Anyway, what time is it?"

…

…

…

There was only pile after pile of manuscript day after day. No kind of initiation package at all. That was not surprising, considering that the place I blacked out was no longer there.

It was just an empty room now.

How fucking bizarre. But whatever, I supposed. It wasn't like I had believed everything that was given back in the room. I did enjoy the free drinks though. Putting great emphasis on the word free.

Free was good.

I picked up the next manuscript, not even bother to read the title. It did not matter, really, considering that all these stories were pretty much the same in one way or another.

I had not enjoyed reading for a long time. Probably years.

"Why did I choose this career?"

I murmured to myself. I wanted to be a writer, making a name for myself, but I winded up here, behind a desk all day and night, searching through endless amount of submitted work for that one hit.

Just that one hit. Just one hit.

It felt fruitless. Really fruitless. In all honesty, there were plenty of great writers out there, but they all needed something more than just write a good story. They needed luck.

Just a bit to make someone notice them. Just a bit to give them a chance. Something that nobody had ever given me, and now I was too old to debut. Fuck. Fuck!

I needed a break. Something to get my mind off my crappy life, so I read.

And read.

Not the manuscripts that piled up on my desk. No. I already knew how those stories would ended or would have ended.

No. I rather read stories that could be found plentiful on the internet. Stories that were written freely by those who would ask for nothing in return. Stories that would surprise me. That would allow me to unleash my imagination once more.

It was becoming harder and harder to find the type of stories that I had grown to like, but I eventually found one. Several actually.

I opened a recommended link and begun reading the first chapter, but everything grew dark. Shadows crept in from the edges of my vision, and I quickly blacked out. Damn.

Must have been the fatigue.

Honestly, when was the last time that I had a proper rest? Probably not since I had met that strange guy with a strange laugh.