The Ink Dries Faster Than You Think

The author stood still, her fingers frozen above the keyboard. "Why do you pursue me like crazy? What do you need from me?" He didn't answer, just looked at her with his solemn eyes, his black robe fluttering from a non-existent wind. "Why do you look at me like that? You're ridiculously handsome, okay, I know that. But I'm not that shallow! I can write you better than that, or worse, be warned!" The male lead kept looking at the author solemnly, but this time a barely noticeable grin of amusement had started to form on his lips. "You want more? You want a tragic love story, a tear-jerking hell of a past, growing up a desolate life with the thoughts of revenge the only thing driving you forward? You want trials and tribulations that you always escape unscathed, people loving you more and more, you becoming more vulnerable and small and thus more appealing? WHAT do you want? Get a life of your own, don't bother me!" It was apparent that the author's annoyance had reached a dangerous limit. The handsome prince suddenly dropped on all four, and started kowtowing to the author. While doing so, he dropped his saber as well, setting it just before his bowing head. The author suddenly noticed something, and cold sweat started forming all over her. The blade... it had stains of blood on it! He always cleaned it thoroughly. And she didn't remember writing about him slashing anyone lately! . . . [Note: This is my original work, not a translation or a fanfic. Inspired by living a boring life while having a annoyingly vivid imagination. I'll try to keep the updates regular, for now my goal is to release 2 chapters per week, though that may change in the future.]