three female students form a mystery team and solve mysteries left and right

ORIGINAL STORY | pennoname


Female Protagonist
Zombie Apocalypse
Weak to Strong
Slow Romance
Male Lead Falls In Love First
Action
Change
Mystery

Kuro Yangasaki - Once popular at his school, he lived through life with ease. Kuro didn't worry about people hating him. He had a perfect life until rumors got spread through the entire school. One girl screwed up his whole life. That someone is someone he could never forgive. 

Emily Orishi - Before Emily transferred to Kuro's school, she was a pretty popular kid. Her good looks, grades, and all out personality made people like her. Then, one day, her father had to move houses for work, which made Emily switch schools as well. Now, Emily helps Kuro whenever he is sad, and appreciates him for staying "friends" with her even though she is annoying to him.

Sofie Locket - She's the girl who confessed to Kuro, and spread those rumors about him. Patritcha was the first person attacked by the "Mystery Person" and is hospitalalized to this day, and will stay like this for at least 9 months. 

Mystery Person - A person who goes to Kuro's school. Their identity is not known, but Kuro found out that they're most likely female. No further information is known about them. 

Author (me) - I am EvanDeku - at least my writing name is that. I'm 13, and still going through school. If I'm a day late in publishing a chapter, then I'm either in a writers block, or I wasn't able to get a complete thought through my brain. Needless to say, I try my hardest to write these chapters down as fast as possible.

Kuro Yangasaki. That's the name of the man thay got his whole entire school life cut into pieces. Now, Kuro is an outcast in the school, but soon, mysterious events start going on throughout the school that change his life...

(Banner is not mine. I do not take credit.)

Firstly, let's get the definition out of the way:

{A kuudere, sometimes written as kūdere or just kudere, refers to a character who is often cold, blunt, and cynical. They may seem very emotionless on the outside, but on the inside they're very caring — at least when it comes to the ones they love.} -Ripped straight from Google.

Now, why add this sort of character to a story? The answer is that Dere tropes exist. People just really consistently love certain types of female characters that fit their fetish. The Dandere (Silent Lovestruck) is for the dom's type out there~

As for those who like Cool Lovestruck type of female character, they are normally the type who want to see the eccentricities of said girls. The Kuudere's deadpan face and awkward way of expressing herself matches some dudes out there in their high school days where they thought having an expressionless look was totally cool~

It isn't in real life, by the way. When trying to handle this trope, try to imagine a character who isn't an alien but more like a girl who internalises 'love' in a different way from others thanks to her upbringing.

Although some find her defenceless figure with her naive optimisms or straight up ignorance of the protagonist's thought, it needs to be said that someone would have assaulted her already if she was cute and doesn't know frickin' social distance.

Writers love to get away with 'but she only does this with the main character (who is unable to commit himself and is shockingly 'virtuous') so it's fine'. But really... it's not. The Kuudere does not have a cosmic detector for her future life partner.

If you want her to seem like more of a person that can exist in reality, give her some cautiousness and portray her 'Lovestruck' antics in a more personal way. For example: Through their blunt attitude.

The appeal of a rare girl who is emotionless on the outside but sweet and caring on the inside is a fantasy for Otaku who want to believe that the deadpan classmate they likes also likes them back.

Some think that Kuudere wants to be that way.

But in real life, people are idiots only in high school and become more well-rounded as individuals after gaining enough experience and becoming proper adults. The Kuudere's bluntness and cynical way of talking isn't welcomed in more 'normie' groups.

That's why it's up to the main character to be there for her and be the warmth in her otherwise 'cold' life. The only requirement for a character to be shipped with a Kuudere is either that he could break her trope-y attitude or make her feel at home when they are around. Make it look like they compliment each other through their daily life.

Of course, there are other ways to do this as well and I don't see why writers can't be creative when using this. Just don't use the trope as an explanation and more of a point of reference, as it will stop your character from looking like a walking Dere Trope who has a background attached just for making an excuse for her behaviour.

In order to stop and explanation sounding like an excuse, make sure it comes early in their introduction why they act a certain way. As long as the reasoning is understandable, no one will point fingers and say you are making a flat character.

Just be sure that unless it has a slice-of-life added into it, don't make personalities the man focus.

Keep things in the background if you want to be subtle and focus more on driving your plot.

If not, I highly recommend you at least make sure there are other characters she can bounce off of coldly. After all, if you only show her being nice to her loved ones all the time (even if it's the main character), then the trope will become forced.

There doesn't need to be a big explanation for her being blunt and cynical, all she needs to do is be herself and let the other characters be themselves too. It is fine to show the unpleasant side of such a trope-ish character, as it makes them more 'real'.

The bluntness of a Kuudere is almost like the bluntness of a muscle brain sometimes but you can always decide how snaky they are on through the things they say and don't say. The deeper level of their character is expressed in their choices.

And to characterise someone, express the way these character's see others through the eyes of others. After all, going from her perspective alone would lose the air of mystery around her.

Is she caring towards kids? Does she hate the rainy days? When does she empathise? Or be ignorant?

Character choices play a big part in showing what a character is about, and Pet the Dog and Kick the Dog moments are good material to use (I mean the tropes. Look the two up). Either way, how they react to circumstances say more about them.

The Dere Tropes are only surface level judgements on characters anyway, so making a character with the trope as a guide rather than a reference would make an equally shallow character. Don't add mystery aspects to her if there is no payoff.

Remember that the Kuudere is 'cool and sweet', not antisocial. You can picture her as the heroine of Yamada and the Seven Witches as she is the one who can totally live without the main character.

Even if they didn't meet, she would still be a fully functional 'cool' girl who may be misunderstood by some but best friends with others. The caring side she shows to the main character might not be a side she only shows to him but all those she loves.

Contrarily, there may also be a Kuudere who is truly emotionless on the inside and needs a lot of lovestruck therapy before she can open up even a little to the main character. Even when the Male Lead hugs her, it might take some time before she's able to bring herself to hug him back and really show her affection. Though this is sometimes flipped with her instantly wanting children the moment she realised her own feelings for him.

I'm not a fan of the 'You are so kind = I suddenly love you' scenarios as makes my jaw drop whenever girls instantly fall for our Eroge Protagonist MC just because he's a little bit nice.

I mean, have some creativity or at least make the reasons girls like the Male Lead at first something shallow so you can slowly unravel the romance as she gets to truly understand his deeper emotions.

There's nothing wrong with liking a guy for his looks, money, fame, or just because the character is his fan. Anything is fine as for the beginning of a romance as long as they start to 'want' each other's company and like having them around.

Anyway, that's all I got. Just remember she is who she is and slowly unravel her character. Peace out!

(Cover by Darkstar Dust)

This is a story I worked on ages ago that has been refined and edited by adding foreshadowing to events while also simplifying the power system better than before. This story can be considered a prequel to An Adventure Beyond Greatness as it takes place years prior to the events of that story.

Short Synopsis:
After retiring from the battlefield, my life became empty and lifeless. The regrets of my past haunt me in my sleep. Then a change occurred, a King from another world summoned me to fight for his kingdom, but I died even before I could give him my answer. Now, after a fake God allowed me to reincarnate (albeit imperfectly) with my memories intact, into a world filled with magic and swords.

Long Synopsis:
This is about a flawed protagonist who only knew to rely on others and not socialise who gets a second chance to change himself in order to live the life he aimed for in his past life. The narrator isn’t exactly trustworthy since it is purely in his bias perspective while other perspectives given by others fill in the blanks that he either leaves out or twists to suit the situation.

The story itself can be considered a parody of Isekai’s classic tropes which are given a sense of reality as time goes by. As there exists no ‘Demon Lord’, there is also no black and white, only characters opinions and counter-opinions throughout the story.

This letter will be called, "the importance of the occasional vomit" or, "the barf paper". Now, to understand what I mean by barf paper, you should first understand the differences between poetic writing, musical writing and normal writing, oh yeah, sure! poems are only for this or that types huuh! Well, second off, bullshit! Third, music and normal are more closely related types than poetry is and so, I've found it, (poetry) to be a wonderful moderator between the other two, say I'm trying to write a piece of music, I start losing words, even whole phrases, ive got two other forms of writing to draw contexts from! Making three, forms, and, there are more than that but, for now, lets just keep it simple with the three. One very useful facet of this new dynamic, is that for me, the different writing forms actually flow together, interweaving their very own mystery which waits for me to find IT! This view also serves as a destructor of writers block, which can be vary insidious but, the ready made mystery detector, of these three writing forms, interlaced, interlocking, smooth as glass and twice as shocking, IS (probably) just another form (of writing), and actually very different from free writing or auto writing. Those two, (probably the same thing), cant quite mirror but, do nearly mimic, the other three, used together. HERE!! Ill show you how! Form writing is a learned and structured experience, with definite marks, rules grammar, punctuation etc., whereas, auto writing, allows the penner or writer, the freedom of both mind and self, to collaborate and mingle at the same TIME, as creation is taking place. Now, the two of these concepts, auto and form writing, both or, each, have their own "lists of most compatible linguistic devices", which can do their mimic, mirror dance actually behind your eyes or, "the eyes of where you create from", and ritualize for themselves, say, the muse invokations that are so popular among certain genre type writers, now, if perhaps id actually bothered to get myself an education on writing, I could be spouting off a lot of spiffy little quotes from all the giants of ours and other AGES, which could even tug this little shysterfest of an idea, along into perhaps an instructional manual, perhaps even cohesively, weaving, so to speak, the previously aforementioned "forms of writing", into an example of this, BRAID, form that I may have just come up with. How then does one  begin, a braid? Well, start, with the form you're most accustomed to, (normal, poetic and or musical) practice one, for a couple of hours, get comfy with it, then switch to one of the other two forms, then after a couple of hours of that, do a couple hours in the third form, and proceed as you would in making a hair braid, making each overlapping "layer of strands", or threads, wider and more supportive to each last, or leaner and more primal and muscular. Wash, rinse, repeat!.... The biggest rule, to the tri braid writing form is, that you must set your OWN rhythmic boundaries for each of the three subordinate forms used in the braid. And, understanding this also involves just accepting that not all poetry RHYMES! Or even should RHYME! Some of the best poems DON'T rhyme! And any professor of it worth his salt, will tell you or, at least try to teach you, that there IS meaning, and then there's rhythm, and that to sacrifice all of one for all of the other, well, some say it negates the very practice but, I've come to think of that Meaning, Rhythm, Fulcrum, as a kind of a compass, yeah, im just that self involved! Or, it may be that its a part of my muse getting invokation or some such, here nor there, this is exactly how its done. If you've decided to invest in the unrest of the politically disadvantaged, or, if some social injustice looms and beckons your off hours, or if you're just fascinated with rhythm and then force-feeding it meaning, then, this may be right up your alley! And here! Ill tell you another secret! That ill explain the relevance of to you later but, certain, very few, altered states, can be counted on, (quite?) reliably, to produce a certain quality and range of variables within the fabric of your story. One, extreme elation. Probably the best one, learn to use your other emotional states to drive your creative process and clash your ideas every now and then but, if you learn to differentiate between your personal moods, WHILE creating, and the personal  moods of the characters or environments in your work, this prompts detailing, and even a sort of "MACHO" thing for some people but, im not here to judge, ill move on from emotional states, to the seriously more ominous and least navigable, mental states. Hint, there's lots more mental states than there are emotional ones. (There are more variables in one than in the other?)  We just haven't, or wont, go exploring as a human race!! And so, acclimatize into our discomfort zones as outwardly as our characters will allow. ONE reason I know this is true and real is it sounds good one MORE, reason, IS, that ive experienced, actually differentiated, multiple mental states meaning, when I'm on the verge of a seizure, I can actually draw, or write, from states which seem to merge say, inquisitiveness with say, anger or fear or, maybe pride with joy, in some times more magnified ways and in one way, it makes the common sense that everyone already knows, but in another, those states ive mentioned seem to feel, a certain waY, THE THING IS THE "SEEMING", TO FEEL, is itself the connection for every one mind, to every common heart, out there searching or, knowing already, those others who understand him! And that is the very key toto creating a believably  character, that set of voices, vibes and variables, that gives any good story its vavoom! Or, whatever it requires to move it along its timeline, which brings us to plot, and this in combination with environment, will usually round out the toolbox for depth of character, with the exception of preferrences and natural attributes, the character can be clay to the external environment or, the vice versa. Intentions, emotions, thoughts and impulses however, make up say, internal environments, environs more conducive to protagonistic behavior, whereas antagonisms preclude behaviors driven by insinct and or intuition, as per the or depending on, the sex of the antagonist, male or female supposedly as, instinct and intuition are often seen as male and female traits, the protagonist, either individual or faction, oddly enough, more oftentimes displays the moral as counterpoint to the more often emotional responses of the antagonist. Unless of course, your plot is thicker and or, more twisted, than conventional, usual, academia would instruct. Or, if you use your imagination, you can follow yourself around as your creative process leads the characters, events and environs in and along the storyline. This This can This can be used to suspend disbelief, or, lay in a new scene setting or even to detail a single image and or the importance of, a single image as in say a verbal montage or, introduction or other narrative. 


Peking University.

The grand hall was packed, with no empty seats.

Zhang Ye used his pass to enter, after coming out of the bathroom. The opening speech was already over. A Leader from a radio or television station walked away after putting down the microphone. Following that, two hosts came onstage. Zhang Ye had never seen them before. They were probably students of Peking University and were a male-female duo.

"Hello Leaders, guests and everyone."

"Welcome to the annual Beijing Couplet Competition."

"As a host, I feel very honored. I feel like my body is sparkling with light."

"Is your Zodiac sign a firefly? I've known you for so many years, but this is the first time I’m hearing about this ability of yours?"

The stage lines were clearly prepared beforehand. The two hosts exchanged banter with each other to liven up the atmosphere, before announcing the competition's rules, "Before we begin, let us introduce the rules of the final." He pointed to a long stretch of seats from his podium. There were about 50 seats. And to the side, there were three seats for the judges. Their names were written on it. They were the same three judges from the preliminary round. "Here are the seats for the contestants. There are where the judges’ seats are. The final will be held in a first to the answer format. The three judges will each come up with a question. Following that, the other 50 contestants will come up with the first half of a couplet. Whoever manages to speak first will be allowed to answer. If the answer is unanimously agreed upon by the three judges, then the answer will be accepted, giving the contestant one point. If you do not manage to match it… One point will be deducted. Please note that there is a new rule for this year. If a contestant's couplet cannot be matched by anyone in the time allotted, that contestant will obtain ten points. Finally, the contestants with the highest scores will be placed accordingly for the top three."

This year's competition had a slight difference in rules, when compared with last year's, but they weren't much different. There were just some changes to the way the points were calculated and the point deductions.

"Next will be the opening dance."

"Please give a round of applause to our Beijing Couplet Organization's dancing Teachers!"

An ancient melody sounded. A few dance artists dressed in historical costumes appeared. Their long sleeves fluttered and immediately drew the applause of the audience!

Zhang Ye bent his back as he quickly walked to his front row seat, "Excuse me, thank you."

His ticket was given to him by Tian Bin. But since the tickets given to the television and radio stations were concentrated together, everyone was actually in one area.

Tian Bin's wife saw Zhang Ye coming and said puzzledly, "Teacher Zhang, why aren't you preparing backstage? Haven't all the contestants gone there?"

Big Sis Zhou asked, "That's right, Little Zhang. What are you doing here?"

Hu Fei, Xiao Lu and company also looked over, "The competition is about to begin."

Zhang Ye waved his hand and found an empty spot to sit down. "I'm not participating. Let them compete."

Hou Ge was shocked, "What? Why aren't you participating? With your deep foundation in couplets, it is such a great opportunity. Why would you..."

Former Leader Zhao Guozhou also frowned, "Little Zhang, this doesn't seem like your usual style."

Xiaofang was even more anxious than Zhang Ye, "Teacher Zhang, go on up! Hurry! How can you not go!?"

Zhang Ye answered truthfully, "I just happened to be lucky at the preliminary round. I don't believe that I will be that lucky in the final round. They are all experts, so I won't bring ridicule on myself."

Actually, Zhang Ye also wanted to give the final round a try. Of course, he wanted to seize a chance to be famous. However, when he heard the competition's rules when he entered, he decided that it was better not to shame himself. He might as well leave the impressive and mysterious impression he had from the preliminary round. Why? Why didn't he even try? It was because there were too many questions. He had not heard of most of this world's couplets. It wasn't that he could not answer all of them, but he could not answer at least 80% of them. He could not use the literary foundations from his world. So even if he went and happened to hear a few questions that he had previously heard of before, that was pointless. If he couldn't get into the top three, then it would be a waste. He decided not to go, getting rid of the chance for the Beijing Writers' Association to suppress him, and not giving them the chance of using the fact that he did not get a placing to fault him!

As for damaging to his Reputation if he abstained? If the preliminary round did not exist, it would definitely have happened. However, he had staged an astonishing couplet duel with Elder Qian in the preliminary round, and had even won. Hence, even if he did not participate in the final round, his fame would only increase, not decrease.

"Little Zhang!"

"Aiyah, you..."

Many of his old friends and colleagues were persuading him.

Zhang Ye only shook his head. He could do nothing about it. It was just that they did not understand the situation.

Seeing that Zhang Ye did not have any intentions in participating, everyone felt a sense of regret and stopped saying anything.

The opening dance.

Recital of Chinese Literature.

Ancient classic couplets were drawn by famous calligraphers.

The program lasted for an hour. It was very interesting, giving enjoyment to people.

Now, everything was being broadcast live on the internet. A few cameras were facing the podium, and a few were hanging above. One of them was above the podium, and another was behind the audience. Compared to a traditional professional television's live broadcast, this was not considered very professional; there were too few cameras. But since it was a webcast, it was already considered pretty good.

At this moment, the performances came to an end.

The male and female host went onstage.

"Hello, everyone. I believe that the performance from before was already great fun for many, but what is more fun will be in a while. I am announcing the beginning of the competition. Let me first introduce our judges for this Beijing Couplet Competition..." A judge would walk out from backstage as the female host announced each name. Amidst applause, the judges took their seats. Following that, the female host continued to announce, "Next, I will announce the contestant name list for those who passed the preliminary round. Lu Fang, Big Thunder, Zheng Anbang, Zhou Yan..." The final name, "...Zhang Ye."

Suddenly, there seemed to be a situation.

A staff member with a blue badge ran out. One could tell at a glance that he was from the Writers' Association, as all the members from the Writers' Association wore a blue badge. The Couplet Organization wore white. Different units have different colors. Following that, a few Couplet Organization and Writers' Association employees came out. They surrounded the three judges and seemed to be discussing something with them. Following that, they even signaled to the host onstage to temporary stop. It was as if they wanted the hosts to first delay something.

"Eh?"

"What's the matter?"

"Why is the atmosphere so tense?"

"What has happened? It's a live broadcast, too. Why aren't they beginning the finals?"

The camera quickly moved away, but the audience present could see it clearly. They began to discuss about it.

The male host was quick to react, "This competition sure is highly anticipated. I wonder who will be this year's champion. Last year's champion, Professor Wang, unfortunately could not come due to his old age. This year, I'm placing my bets on last year's first runner-up, Teacher Big Thunder. What about you?"

The female host smiled and said, "I'm placing my bets on Teacher Zhang Ye."

"Why?" From the male host's expression, he clearly did not know who Zhang Ye was. But since his partner had said so, he had to pretend like he knew.

The female host blinked, "It’s nothing much. It’s only because I'm Teacher Zhang Ye's fan. I have memorized every poem of his except 'The Song of the Stormy Petrel'."

The male host was amused, "But this is a couplet competition."

"So what? It can't prevent me from worshiping my idol!" the female host said matter-of-factly.

"I only just realized you chase idols!" The male host was at a loss of whether to laugh or to cry.

The two of them exchanged words as they dragged the time out to change the subject.

Offstage, Xiao Lu was smiling with glee, "Look at our Teacher Zhang's popularity! He has fans all over Beijing!"

"That's right. That female host is your fan." Hou Ge prodded Zhang Ye with his elbow. "Teacher Zhang, are you sure that you aren't participating? This will disappoint your fan!"

Zhang Ye was actually thinking about how much he wanted to go up onto the stage.

Five minutes passed and the audience was already becoming impatient.

The hosts could no longer drag it out any further. Looking offstage, a host said, "Teacher Judges, can we begin?"

An employee with a blue pass offstage noticed the situation and quickly went onstage, and took over the microphone, "Sorry, but we have a situation. Just now, someone reported that a contestant had violated the rules by cheating. So please wait patiently. We are still discussing the situation."

"Cheat?"

"Who?"

"What cheating?"

The audience began to chatter.

The Beijing Writers’ Association's employee said quickly, "The person that was reported is Zhang Ye."

A few judges were looking very harsh, especially Elder Qian. He stared coldly at the Writers' Association employee who had went up onstage to speak without their agreement. The outcome was not settled, so who allowed you to announce the name of the contestant that was reported? Who let you say it?

The female host was also stunned. She had previously mentioned that she had her bets on Teacher Zhang Ye.

The Writers' Association employee pretended that he did not see the fierce stares from the Couplet Organization's Leaders and the few judges. He carried on speaking casually, "This is because during the preliminaries, Zhang Ye was discussing the questions with his surrounding friends. Someone even heard one of his friends suggesting to plan a strategy for him to solve the question. After receiving the report, we checked the video footage and realized that it did happen!"

Elder Qian was enraged, "Get him down! What the heck!"

The faces of the few people from the Couplet Organization turned ugly. A Leader from the Couplet Organization said to a Leader from the Writers' Association, "Things aren't even confirmed. Who let you say that? Eh?"

The Writers' Association's Leader threw up his hands, "I didn't instruct him to do it."

The woman from the Couplet Organization who was responsible for receiving Zhang Ye said, "Get him the f**k down!" Even vulgarities came out!

The Beijing Writers’ Association's Leader frowned, but he got his employee down. But since the words had been said, it was useless to think of turning the situation around by having his employee removed!

The words were shocking. This matter immediately blew up!

Whether it was the audience or the people watching the live webcast, everyone heard it!

"Zhang Ye?"

"Zhang Ye cheated?"

"His friends helped him match it during the preliminary round?"

"Hai, I already said it. How can a person manage to match the second half of such a miraculous couplet in such a short time? He must have gotten somebody's help!"

"This kind of person even participated?"

"Right, quickly revoke Zhang Ye's finals qualification!"

"I was even amazed at that Zhang Ye. Who knew that he relied on others to enter the finals!"


Zhang Ye was originally a mundane college graduate with aspiring dreams to become a star, but unfortunately has below average looks and height. However one day, he woke up and suddenly found himself in a parallel world! 
It’s like the same world, but wait a minute…many brands, celebrities and even famous works from his world changed and are gone in this new world! Armed with the profound literary knowledge of his previous world and a heaven-defying Game Ring that gives him magical items, stats and skills, Zhang Ye embarks on a journey to pursue his life-long dream of becoming famous!
Follow Zhang Ye as he takes the new world by storm, one plagiarized piece at a time, to hilarious reactions!

(Day 1: Session 1)
Me: My first question is that what makes you want to write? Is it because it is a necessity, is it because of the money, is it because you're passionate about writing, or is it something entirely different? 
Him: Hmm…well, would you like the long answer or the short answer? 
Me: Whichever one you're comfortable with. 
Him: I'll give you the long one; so that, you know…you don't think that I'm lying. 
Me: Why would I think that you're lying? 
Him: Because that is what people usually tend to conclude, don't they? 
Me: How so? 
Him: Well, if you may, it's a stereotypical perspective etched within society. You look at a bunch of writers who have a few bestsellers up their sleeves and are leading a pretty successful and wealthy life, and you ask them if it's all for the money or because they actually like doing it. Now, whatever they may say or comment, the only thing that'll be fluttering in front of your eyes is their wealth and success; indefinitely blinding you to the truth underlying within the person's answer. Therefore, even if the person says that it's because they actually like doing it, that it's because they like writing, your brain – which is only focused on their success and wealth – tells you that they're probably lying and are trying to appear modest and professional in front of the world. Your brain tells you that 'of course it's for the money and the wealth. What else could it be for?' 
It's also because – I think – that society has developed a predisposition regarding successful and wealthy people, so that they tend to generalize or associate anyone with the same caliber into that similar category. 
Me: And you're saying that you surpass them all? That you don't belong to this stereotypical and generic category created by society? 
Him: 'Surpass', no. I'm not saying that I'm better than everyone else. But yes, I am saying that I do not belong to that category, regardless of whether society tends to put me there or not.
Me: That brings me back to my initial question: why do you write?
He took a long pause, looking around at his lavish library for a few seconds. His face gave nothing away but I was convinced that he already had the answer to my question – he was only trying to figure out whether I was worth being answered in the right way or not. 
Then, once I spotted a sense of sudden resolution take over his face, he adjusted himself on the chair so that he was more comfortable – resting his left leg on his right leg and taking a few quick sips of his coffee – and then spoke: 
Him: I remember the first book I ever read called Jeremy Thatcher, Dragon Hatcher by Bruce Coville. It was the first time I was ever introduced to the 'power of words'. That was the first instance wherein I observed and realized the seductive, magnetic pull words could conjure on me. It was intoxicating. 
By the end of the first book I ever read in my life…I was already an addict. 
You see, the concept of addiction has always been very pure and realistic. It was only disregarded and approached negatively by people when it began to be associated with drugs and substance abuse. In my perspective, every artist is an addict. Not because they're a bunch of druggies who try to grab at inspiration which they presume they'll find entangled within white powder or lying at the end of a bottle. No. They're addicts because they're severely addicted to their art and creative process. They're ferociously attached to it and nothing can separate them from it.  
When I was ten years old I felt that addiction of words induced within me. I could feel it take over my mind and soul as quick as current flowing through your body. Soon enough, I knew that I wanted to feel like that all the time. So I read whatever I could get my hands on. Fiction, non-fiction, mystery, crime, whatever it was I just completely devoured it. 
And then one day I heard voices inside my head. 
Now this may seem very difficult to understand, but it is how it truly is – at least for me. There are these constant voices blabbering inside a writer's head and the only way to get rid of them is to transfer them onto a piece of paper. 
So that's what I did. 
And the voices inside my head kept on increasing and I kept on writing. And by the end of that day, I was addicted to writing. I didn't care if people read it or not, I didn't care if people liked it or not, to be honest I didn't care about anything. I was only aiming to satisfy this burning sensation ignited in me that kept on pushing me to write.   
That's how it started, I guess that's how it still is, and perhaps that's how it'll always be. My entire life has been driven by words and guided by these voices inside my head. When you think of it, it sounds like a sad and lonely life, but it really isn't. 
In some ways I count myself very lucky because at an early age I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to emulate what other writers did. You know, Hemingway, Eliot, Dickens, etc., all of these people were regarded as the 'fathers of writing' – people who paved the way for future writing and writers, who guided writers into becoming as good as them and who explained that writing was much more than just sitting on a chair and producing words on a piece of paper. It has meaning and depth.  
Ever since I was a child I knew, I knew that I wanted to create what they created. I wanted to articulate words in ways that would stun people and lead them from their tiresome and heavily routinized life into an exciting new experience. I wanted my words to melt and mix with reality in a way that no other writer had ever attempted to achieve. I wanted to be deemed as good as Eliot and Hemingway.  
Me: Do you think you've achieved that?
Him: No I haven't. I'm glad that I haven't, and soon enough I realized that I, infact, didn't even want to. 
You see, I realized around the age of sixteen that what made writing so fun and exciting was the sheer experience of sharing your thoughts – your most intimate and philosophical thoughts – with a piece of paper that you know wouldn't lash out at you or curse you or mock you or judge you. And perhaps that's why writing has always been an intimate and a very personal experience for me.     
I write when I'm happy, I write when I'm sad, I write when I'm bored, I write when I'm excited, I write all the time! There hasn't been a single day since I first became a writing addict that I didn't practice this art. So, to answer your question, yes, I write because it's a necessity – because writing for me is now like breathing… I can't survive without it. 
Me: And if you feel so strongly about something then you're obviously just as passionate about it, right? 
Him: Yes, you could say that. 
By the appalled look on my face he obviously knew that I was impressed. I had never met a person who thought so deeply and intimately about writing the way he did.
Me: While we're on the subject, tell me, did your parents approve of you pursuing this field of profession? 
I noticed a sense of uneasiness flash in his eyes and quickly take form through the facial expression overlapping his face. But he recovered from the shock fairly quickly. 
He wasn't comfortable showing his emotions in front of people. He tried regressing them for some reason. Perhaps he was more comfortable writing about them rather than discussing them with another human being. I made a mental note of this – it was something I would have to incorporate within my questions and try to unravel as we spoke.
Him: No, they did not. 
Me: Why not?
He portrayed no sort of reluctance now.
Him: My father was a businessman, my uncle was a businessman, and all of my brothers are businessmen. My family's foundation was based on business. That's all they knew, that's all they ever did, and that was all they ever wanted to do. They were all entrepreneurs. In their eyes, I was the ugly duckling of the family. 
Notice how every parent wants their child to grow up to be a doctor, or an engineer, or a business tycoon, but no parent desires for their children to grow up to become a person who isolates themselves from the rest of the world for years in order to produce a stack of papers which people may or may not read. 
No parent pushes their child to become an artist, or a writer, or a musician when they grow up because these professions aren't deemed as being as lucrative as the rest. According to the rest of the world, these jobs largely depend on luck rather than a person's capability and skills. 
Me: And what do you think? 
Him: I think that they're just like any other job. In any other job you need a little bit of luck, likewise, you need a little bit of luck here as well but it doesn't all revolve around that. Writing, painting, composing, all these are skills and crafts. You need to develop them in order to be the best. And that takes a lot of work. Infact, I would say that jobs which require a particular talent or set of skills are much harder than other uniformed jobs such as being a businessman or a doctor. Yes, it takes a lot of hard work to succeed in that field as well, but not as much as you would need to work in order to become a good writer or a musician.
Me: Why would you say that?
Him: Because writing isn't as easy and simple as subtraction and division. It doesn't have a particular formula which can be used to extrapolate results. It doesn't have a specific process whereby one can succeed if they adhere to that process. Writing is solely based on intuition, passion, an observant mind, the drive to make a difference, and to have enough courage to portray yourself in front of the entire world to be critiqued and judged. That is why some people give up on writing very early on in their life, seeing as it is not something they are brave enough to do, and others just simply never try it because they don't want to expose themselves or be judged and critiqued by others.  
Me: So you're trying to convey this idea that writing takes a lot of courage and persistence, and that not everyone can do it?
Him: Yes, that is exactly what I'm saying. 
Me: And your parents didn't see eye to eye with you on that? 
Him: No they did not. Like I said, they were all businessmen and expected me to join the same line of work. However, I just simply couldn't because I didn't have the mind for it and I knew that from a very young age. I wasn't cut out for business, it didn't excite me, it didn't fascinate me, and to be honest it rather bored me. But my parents weren't convinced. They couldn't fathom how I could possibly make a living through writing books and essays which may or may not be published. Even if they did get published they may or may not sell well. So you see, their problem wasn't with writing, it was with the dilemma that I wasn't opting for a more stable kind of lifestyle. And I guess that's the underscoring issue here. 
Although, I guess another reason could be that they just didn't understand me. 
Me: Didn't understand you? How so?
Him: Well, tell me, do your parents understand you? 
Me: With all due respect, we're not here to talk about me we're here to talk about you. 
Him: And with all due respect, but you just answered my question. So they don't understand you. And I don't blame you for that. I don't blame them either. You're a writer. Writers are never understood by their parents or the rest of the world. It's a simple fact of life.
Me: What are your reasons for thinking so?
He smiled that same playful smile where his eyes bulged out and his lips broadened to an extent that his cheeks curled up into wrinkles. Regardless of how it may sound, the smile was charming and intellectual; as if echoing with the statement: "I know you better than yourself".
Him: How do I put this subtly? Umm…well…writers are weird. They don't think like rational human beings. That's because they aren't really wired as normal and rationally thinking human beings. And it's funny, I figured this out at the age of twenty three through a series of conversations with a group of physicists and mathematicians; all of whom were people of great intellect and vast knowledge. This was when I was researching my third book, by the way. 
Me: You mean 'The Boy Who Talked Too Much'? 
Him: Yes, exactly.
So, back to what I was saying. Writers are weird, right? I would disagree with anyone and everyone who argued differently. This is because, like I mentioned, writers don't process stuff like normal people do, and I realized this through my conversations with people of different professions. In my opinion, normal people look at the world with their eyes closed. 
Now a little disclaimer, I don't want to come out strong here or in any way insinuate anything robust. I'm not looking to offend anyone, I'm merely speaking my mind and what I think is true. Is that ok? 
I nodded.
Him: Alright. Ok, so, normal people look at the world with their eyes closed. This is because they tend to disregard most of what they see. They look at the politics of the world and the unfairness implemented by the politicians, but instead of doing something about it they close their eyes, bow down their heads, and say to themselves: 'Why should I put my life and my job in jeopardy for people who I don't even know?'
Me: And writers don't do that? 
Him: No, they don't. Allow me to give you a few examples. Almost every activist, freedom fighter, or any person with the guts to stand up to society and its principles – whether male or female – was and is a writer. 
Exhibit 'A': Nelson Mandela. He fought against racial discrimination all his life. But he was first and foremost a writer. 
Exhibit 'B': George Orwell. He discussed highly political issues in almost all of his novels, one very prominent example being 'Animal Farm' and his most famous book '1984'. He was one of the most courageous writers I have ever had the pleasure to read who refused to part with his unfinished book while lying on his death bed.  
Exhibit 'C': Charles Dickens. He was and is one of the most influential Victorian writers in the world who discussed important themes such as education, human rights, child labor, politics, and so on in almost all of his books. His only aim in doing so was to make people realize the extent of their actions, its effect on society, and how what they were doing was wrong. Infact, that's what all these other writers were trying to do as well.   
The funny thing is that do you know why people still read Dickens and Orwell? Why they're regarded with such high prestige and stature? Because people know that they were right. They know that what they discussed and influenced through their work resonates throughout the ages – past, present, and future. 
The only reason that writers are associated with this stereotypical view of awkward human beings walking through life with craziness clinged into their heads is because writers have the courage to talk about things that no one else will; and for that they are termed crazy, idiotic, having the tendencies to over-react, and so on and so forth. 
Writers aren't cursed with having a curtain drawn between them and the truth. They see the world for what it truly is and then they try writing about it in their prose in a manner which wouldn't offend anyone's feelings, but at the same time convey their message – or else in the past writers would have similarly been hanged and burned like witches.   
He chuckled at that.
Me: That is a pretty strong view about society and how they treat writers. 
Him: You could say that. I guess in a manner it is strong. Some may even say that it's biased towards writers and then they would probably conclude that it is because I myself am a writer. But in reality that's not what it really is. In reality, it is simply the truth, whether they want to believe it or not.                   
Me: I would like to revert back to what you said about parents dissuading their children from pursuing creative jobs like writing because they aren't very lucrative jobs. Well, don't you think that it's true? Being a writer does mean not having a stable job. You don't get a fixed salary and it purely depends on the audience and what they want to read.  
Him: I would disagree with that. 
Me: And what's your justification? 
Him: Simple. If you're an engineer, or a doctor, or in the field of any other occupation all you're doing is promoting yourself and your skill. A doctor, if unskilled and not proficient enough in his/her skill, could be banned from practicing for life. Similarly a lawyer, if an incompetent one, could be disbarred and refrained from ever practicing law again. 
So tell me, is there a huge difference between all these other jobs and writing? In writing you're also promoting yourself and your skill. Hence, writing is just as much a stable job as every other job. All that depends is how far the person wants to take his skill and craft and whether he/she is willing to stand up. 
Me: Alright, so let me put this into context. You're saying that writing does not have a specific procedure, as in you can't teach someone how to write, I mean in theory you can, but then it depends on the person and how much he/she practices to better themselves. And in that way writing is different from the rest of the jobs in the world. But where it is similar is that in every other job you're promoting your skill and talent, so likewise in writing you're doing the same. Correct? 
Him: Precisely.  
(End of Session1)

Meet Thomas Alexander Linsky, one of the greatest and most influential writers of our time. Mr. Linsky has been on every reader's radar ever since his first book 'Redemption' was published when he was only ninteen years old. Besides the fact that Mr. Linsky is spectacular at what he does, no one knows much about his personal life. 

Until now. 

In my five day interview with Mr. Linsky I attempt to understand the working mechanism of this amazing artist, seeing him for who he truly is and appreciating him more for being such a pleasant human being. In this book I attempt to enumerate the concepts and ideas that were imparted to me by him. These ideas will not only make a profound impact on all writers but on every human being who aspires to be something more.

[ - CHAPTER III - We Carries A Million of Hope - ]
 
Huh, as expected even if they did accept, the wage is basically a slave whip. It was enough only to live through a day-to-day paycheck. And most of it was physical labor too… what would you expect, honestly.
So I went back home, not yet defeated but I chose the available path still shone for me. It might take longer and require a hefty investment for my wallet, but it should pay off in the long run.
I bought a stack of paper and some pens. I have been writing throughout my life, and I also brought a few worth journals I have written when I was with my mother back home.
And with that, almost all of my money had sunk. It's all or nothing.
Let's see, in this time, mystery and horror novels should be on the rise. 
I finished the first manuscripts after a week of staying inside my room. Then wrote a proposal, send it along with the manuscripts via mail to the local Francois publisher. I just hope it would go through.
Even if the works were heavily inspired by some famous writers, as I tried to emulate their writing style to my best of ability, it won't be so easily accepted. No need to wait with bated breath, I work to the next manuscripts.
This time about the sci-fi genre. I hope the current age readers would be invigorated with the ridiculous idea is presented. As such I send it again but to different publishers. Coincidentally I received the letter for my first novel.
Color me luck, it was accepted. They were exhilarated, saying the presence of a female lead in the manuscript was quite the novelty. To be honest, I didn't care about that, since I thought a girl as the main character is fairly charming.
I met them, as there's a paper of invitation to their office. Of course, it was the same reaction I always get. They were skeptical once they've seen me, thinking it must be a joke.
So, I only presented them with the next manuscripts. Even matching my writing style to convince them. 
They refused. Huh, and here I thought my speaking skill and evidence was enough to convince anybody. In the end, I left the office empty-handed.
Not surprisingly, I also got rejected by the second proposal. The novels were getting quiet a welcoming reception but I do not.
Ironic.
The third time the charm I guess, I revised the manuscripts for fault and sent both of them to another publisher. It was a small timer company located above a newspaper printing office.
This time, I didn't want to meet them face to face, stating I would rather remain unknown for the time being and communicating through mail services.
It seems they're fairly desperate as they accepted the terms, as such I sent the full manuscripts a week later. After a few days of finalizing with the editor, the two novels got published under the name of Bougainvillea.
I don't want to waste time, and counting the chicken before it hatches, as such I began to work for the next proposals. This time about things such as crossword, caricatures drawing, and strip comics, I sent them to the local newspaper printing office.
Tomorrow morning, there's still no news of the novel sales yet. I waited for a week as I mostly work for my journals, mostly about my past knowledge and plans as not to forget it. 
The mails come in a week later, as expected the newspaper office accepted it. I told them, using the same method I used for the novels. It also comes along with the news for the novels.
Looks like it started to sell when a prominent figure accidentally stumbled upon it on a whim and recommended it. Though I forgot the crucial parts, where the money should go?
I quickly went outside and arranged a meeting with a broker. A rather shady man, but I heard he had quite a reputation. I wanted to open a bank account to the Waldstätte Confederacy, or basically the equivalent of Swiss in this world.
It's rather silly, some of the names are still unchanged, and yet others took a different and sometimes gibberish name.
Going back, since the Waldstätte was famous for their neutrality it should be safe to deposit all of my earnings there. The work was quickly smoothed out with the help of grease called money in which I don't have any more afterward other than some small changes enough to buy a piece of bread for tomorrow.
Incidentally, the proposals for the newspaper had passed the tomorrow morning as I began to work in earnest for the rest of the month. 
Before I knew it, winter had passed into spring.

This is a sort of rewrite for my other Fanfic "Weltkrieg - Youjo Senki Fic"

I warned you people that easily offended by a certain symbolism, words, action, and mannerism. Turn back now, the exit button is the right bottom of your phone or upper right of your computer.

And oh, please spend your stones somewhere else, I don't think this fic deserves your appreciation.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything inside this fic,, NOTHING, not my OC not even my story. If you think you can make it better, then please do so, this is just a fanfic and a sort of fantasy fulfillment anyway.

Inside the conference room the shock and surprise had yet to disperse. Some of the reporters who hadn't said anything felt very relieved. Hadn't the others who had been given a slap to their faces? As journalists they had publicized information without confirming with both sides, giving half-baked news. Though this wasn't necessarily a new thing, to have been proven and thrown on their faces made them grit their teeth in silence. 
In this oppressive atmosphere, a single young lady raised her hand. Qiu Yue nodded at her to continue. 
Dressed in a pantsuit and her hair pilled on top in a bun, the reporter looked valiant and trustworthy. 
"Miss Lang, from what we have heard from the employees, except one, all of them had been evacuated to the conference rooms far from the blast radius. Was miss Lang aware of the existence of the bomb? If so, why didn't miss Lang resort to calling the authorities or diffusing the bomb?"
(/ _ ; )
Looking at her clear expression, Qiu Yue didn't feel that this question was an attempt to bring her down. Seeing that this was an honest question Qiu Yue couldn't help but smile ruefully. 
"Miss, you think too highly of me. During a routine check of the system, I was alerted to discrepancies. Being a very cautious person, looking at the upcoming launch of the game, I called for an emergency meeting."
"Reporting the authorities on the basis of just my overly cautious personality isn't impossible, but could be irresponsible. As for disarming it... all of us here are either programmers or designers, writers - none of us have tactical training."
 
As for hacking the bomb using the system Yao Yan possessed... was that even possible? It was a simple switch bomb, if perhaps it had been complicated and involved some sort of system then Yao Yan could have done something. For this point you could only blame Bao FeiYin for being cheap and only being able to procure a simple bomb.
Thinking about it, it made sense. Qiu Yue had known of its existence only a short time before the bomb was set to go off at. It was outrageous to have thought that she could diffuse it, in the first place the fact that Bao FeiYin had been able to procure one itself was bizarre. If Qiu Yue could now disarm bombs, then really this (_author's_) her world view would change. 
Outside, stopping everyone in their tracks, a car screened to a halt near Bao FeiYin. A male with grey hair and a sharp look got down and stepped forward, standing in front of the car door, slightly bowed.
He looked like a butler and his subsequent words really surprised everyone, even Bao FeiYin.
"Miss Bao, young master has asked us to escort you to the mansion and also requested a meeting."
Everyone, other than Bao FeiYin, was shocked to see the treatment Bao FeiYin was receiving at alSO the cost of the car that was here to pick her up. Looking at the sly looking butler here to pick her up, they could guess that whoever this young master was, he wasn't simple.
Of course, one question echoed in their minds.
How did Bao FeiYin know this young master? And what had she done to receive this treatment?
Bao FeiYin was surprised because she knew who the butler was. He was Wang Xi's personal butler. And the fact that he was here meant that Wang Xi wasn't happy with her, looking at the look on the butler's face she could guess that what she had done hadn't pleased him.
Normally this would enrage her even more as she didn't think others had the right to be upset with her, but something in words she had just heard seemed to have struck her. 
Absentmindedly Bao FeiYin stepped into the car and quickly left. 
Like Qiu Yue felt, even though a lot of novels showed female leads or male leads that were counter-attacked as brainless, seeing as they had been the main characters Qiu Yue didn't feel that they were that stupid. Bao FeiYin was a schemer and a green tea bitch even at the heart of the novel, she was ruthless and believed that everything belonged to her.
But she hadn't been stupid. 
 
Shifting to the conference hall, they had passed the section about the disaster and instead moved onto the launch of the new game Qiu Yue had been preparing for.
As the trailer was played, the beautifully drawn men with their magnetic voices and glimpses of an epic romance that could be chosen were portrayed with their signature background music that Qiu Yue had spent a long time copying with the system's help.
Seeing the art and the voices that seemed to be almost whispered to their hearts a lot of reporters shivered. A few of them tried to maintain a stoic expression but their bodies betrayed them, a blush color could be seen staining their ears.
Ah, I've spent so long trying to seduce everyone, you think you can remain straight-faced?
The corners of Qiu Yue's lips hooked upwards into a mischievous smile.
Speaking about her smile, one couldn't ignore the dark kettle next to her.
Huo Zi Feng hadn't thought much about it, but Qiu Yue had curated these lines and their voice acting. Didn't that mean that she had been listening to other men with their sultry and seductive voices saying such unspeakable things?!
Meng Hui could do this job in the future! Why was his wife doing this? The only person she could  hear saying these lines was he himself. Otherwise with her personality wouldn't she make it a hobby?!
Actually, he wasn't wrong, it had been Qiu Yue's hobby.
Need to punish, he thought licking his lips. 
Three things happened at this point, Qiu Yue shivered as she could feel that something was coming her way. She slightly peeked at Huo Zi Feng but his eyes met her immediately, she jumped and looked away. He hadn't stopped looking at her, what had she done to deserve this?! She could cry without tears and think of ways to scamper away.
Meng Hui, suddenly felt that a bad omen had marked future. Poor bunny was very right, after all, first his ears would suffer then everything. Why Huo Zi Feng hadn't considered how Yuan ZeXi would feel about Meng Hui listening to that audio was a mystery.
But it seemed like he wanted to share his jealousy and frustration? 
Ah, it couldn't be.... could it? 
 
And unknown to them all the valiant female reporters from before had completely ignored the happenings in the room, looking straight at Liu Hui with an ambiguous smile.

KO-FI: Qiu_Yue     (QiuYue|Crystall1z3d) 
PATREON: Qiu_Yue     (Crystall1z3d) 



This reverse harem novel, Qiu Yue didn't like at all. She wondered how she'd ended up with such a system, did her hate for harem reach such heights? 

Female Lead has opened a free tofu stall. 

The male lead is annoying Qiu Yue with passion. 

This poor main character who isn't an assassin, isn't a doctor, isn't even a writer! 

Main character: Wait, why are you coming here! You're supposed to hate me! Stop, STOP. 

And the System - ahhhh she's out picking up guys. ╮(－_－)╭



Once a week, maybe twice. 






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