The real story begins?!... right?

Several stupid ideas later, the computer had still not stopped rambling on about certain things. Had I actually listened for once, I might have been able to tell what all of this was about…

As of now, while my mind was busily daydreaming about cash and bewbs a lot of things had happened.

A punching bag with my face had suddenly materialized right next to the old monitor.

Had my face always been this punchable?

Even more than usual I wanted to walk up and throw a punch or two. There had to be a reason for that. After looking at the object I finally spotted the cause of that effect.

I, I mean, this dude totally looked like your average dense Harem MC. He might not be as handsome, strong, intelligent, likeable as a real harem lead─but the rest was totally the same.

Despite it looking, weird, stupid, ugly, dirty and boring, the punching bag was still worthy of being called a harem MC.

"Reincarnated as a punching bag with a stupid author face", might not be the best LN title; but was still better than a lot of other titles.

Imagine being reborn as a successful author. Lulz, ROFL. What's next, a black man that does not die first in a horror movie? The Earth is not flat-chested? A well-written story on this site?

Come on, you gotta be realistic. Any author knew best to write only the most realistic story ever.

That is why I, the soon-famous writer called Fearmongering, would write only the bestest stuff. By my name Author, I swore to the highest heaven…. My story would be very cool.

This might be the afterlife, and I might be really f-word dead, but this could not stop a future top author from publishing their work.

After all, the best stories had no life in them, to begin with.

And was I not perfectly prepared, since my soul has been sold for this test? My story was my baby─ a baby, I needed to sell for big bucks.

Unlike its fleshy version, it could be sold without any worry. Of course, you also do not get to hear these screamy mothers.

"What are you doing to my baby?".

"Please, you get your money tomorrow, just give me back my baby", "I beg you, please do not take my baby away from me"

These freaking drama queens, I swear they make it sound like it's the end of the world.

It's not like they were rare by any means. Much like system novels, you look away for a few seconds and, boom, there were 10000 new ones.

While I had been ranting another very interesting object had appeared.

This author here would not even pretend to understand how the hell it came here. Common sense would suggest that a 20 feet tall picture of a dictionary might be a sign for something…

But my brain was far from common and sense made no sense, to begin with! The ! underlined the importance of this very, very, very thought-provoking point.

To further show my big-brain energy, I stared at the big dictionary for a long time and nodded as if I had realized the big truth behind life itself.

Occasionally, as an expert of sophisticated dumbassery one also had to speak big words no one would understand.

Integrity, grammar and showers─words the average reader would probably not know of.

Last but not least, there was only one thing that needed to be done. Actually finding the reason why that monstrous work of pure evil had appeared in this realm.

This afterlife's world balance was threatened by its very existence.

Maybe for once I truly needed to listen to the words of the Computer.

"… to read is to venture into another psyche. Thus they form lasting bonds and correlate their emotional responses to the observer's personal experiences. To read is to accept the character's vices and draw merit from those. To read is to fathom the intrinsic design of all things living; to ascertain the impossible in the face of a reality most cruel…"

Yeah, never mind. Listening to this stuff made my brain go kapowie. I did not die to actually learn stuff. My future readers would die of boredom…

This could not be allowed. I truly did not want to live in a world where readers would start to think. It's an unimaginable horror, just the mere thought scared me more than basic math.

Memories from school terrorized my mind; simply recalling them was a nightmare that would haunt me all the way to the end of my afterlife.

Young children had to count with their fingers. Humanity was such a messed up race─how could they do such a horrible thing to their youngest? We came to this world full of innocence and we left this world robbed of everything by numbers…

Till the end of time, we would always be slaves under the societal tyranny of numerical oppression.

No idea, what it truly meant; it did sound very smart though.

Wait, did I just become the very thing I wanted to destroy? Noooo, how could this happen to me? Brain, you and I, we gotta have a serious talk.

Brain, we have talked about this. It is impossible to earn 10k bucks if you do your job. Only by you doing absolutely nothing did we have a chance to win the competition.

I need you at the top of your game. There are no excuses, we need to win. Nothing was more important than getting readers to click on your story.

Or do you want to read comments on social media again? "HAVEEEEEEEEEEEE MEEEERCY", screamed my brain inside of my mind. That's what I thought.

My brain was my bitch, not the other way around.

I was the boss here, I was the author of the story.

Having beaten the final boss, nothing was left that could stop me. The story, my letter baby, would rule the world….

Now, how do I publish a chapter from the afterlife????