Ideas, ranking of fan fiction novels, comments on fan fiction novels; new ideas for fan fiction writers and readers' tastes

"Old Shen, do you have the confidence?" Shen Xi offered her father a fist bump.
Shen Zhangqing bumped her fist and said, "You must trust your father, do you understand? Apart from being fat, your dad is fine, and his brain still functions normally!"
Shen Xi happily returned to her room to prepare her proposal.
Shen Zhangqing watched as his daughter hummed a tune and skipped joyfully into her room. Then, he embraced Yun Jinping with red-rimmed eyes. "Don't worry, dear. I won't let you and Xixi down."
Yun Jinping nodded and replied with a hoarse voice, "How much pain has our Xixi endured at the Su family?"
Shen Zhangqing comforted her, "She's grown up and can't remain a child forever. She has matured, and we should be happy about it."
Their daughter used to be a bit stubborn and feisty, yet innocent. She had become more reliable after living with the Su family.
"I don't want her to be so mature." Yun Jinping grieved.
Of course, she knew that it was a good thing that her daughter had matured.
Nonetheless, her daughter had to go through so much misery before attaining her maturity!
Halfway through her draft, Shen Xi's received a notification on QQ[1]. Her website's editor sent her a message and informed her that someone wanted to buy the rights to her novel. She was asked whether she was willing to sell it.
Every girl had a dream of becoming a princess. She would dream of her Prince Charming, who would visit her on his white steed and marry her.
Back when she was still a naïve little girl, she loved to daydream.
When she was in middle school, she would serialize novels on the web.
At first, she wrote about princes and princesses.
When her writing skills improved, she published a few novels about high school romances.
It sounded embarrassing. Until today, her wiki profile still stated that she was a well-known writer of highschool love stories.
Later, as print media gradually became obsolete, she got busier than usual.
The publication requirements were strict and she did not have the time to edit her stories every day. She was not in urgent need of the money either, so she changed her pseudonym and wrote romance stories on the web.
It was her first work after switching to writing web novels and a cross between the genres of political fiction, historical fiction and fantasy. The female lead, who survived a genocide, came back with a vengeance. The series was known as "The Favored Advisor of the Golden Age". 
Later, it got published and the rights to the novel were sold. It was adapted as a web series known as "The Smiling Nation". However, the story was heavily butchered and the show was widely regarded as a flop.
Much later, Shen Xi's legs and hands were crippled and her face got disfigured. After her dream of becoming a celebrity was smashed to smithereens, she began to delve into her own world. Words were the only things that could calm her troubled soul.
When her personality changed and became more inspired, she started writing science fiction. She published around 20 science fiction novels.
The ideas and scope surrounding science fiction novels were massive and not easy to adapt for the big screen. Hence, when she was still alive, her books became bestsellers and accumulated a large fanbase. The rights to her novels were expensive, but there were no film adaptations.
Throughout her writing career, her editor, publisher and fans only knew of her pseudonym. She kept her real identity a secret. 
This information was classified. Yet, after her death, all of her achievements were falsely claimed by Su Ruowan.
Su Ruowan appropriated her pseudonym and won the Hugo Award using Shen Xi's novels, thus becoming China's number one science-fiction novelist.
Her old pseudonym was brought up as well.
The media and fans went into a frenzy as they worshipped the talented Su Ruowan.
Eventually, "The Favored Advisor of the Golden Age" was adapted as a film and it was a tremendous success. Her other science fiction novels were not neglected either, as, one-by-one, films were made for each of them. They became blockbusters and were world-famous.
[1] QQ is a popular instant messaging app in China.


In her past life, Shen Xi always longed for love and validation from her parents, members of the wealthy Su family. Unfortunately, the attention that she yearned for was stolen by the family’s fake heiress – her elder sister, Su Ruowan. 
As a result of Su Ruowan’s evil plans, Shen Xi was crippled, disfigured and eventually died of leukemia. However, in a surprising turn of events, Shen Xi was reborn. Returned to the time when she was a seventeen-year-old teenager, she’ll set things right and get her revenge against the Su family. 


Some argue that various works by authors that do not meet the requirement of fine grammar and spelling are rubbish. Here, each person has his own opinion, and let him stick to it and impose his opinion on others as the ultimate truth, it speaks only of ignorance of life. It is diverse.

Is the work of authors with poor grammar garbage? In my opinion, no. Each author tells his story, passed through his worldview, attitude, understanding of life, his experience and thoughts about the world. It's always interesting for me to read this personally.

I'm a bibliophile, I read a lot of classic works of art, Tomass and Gernih Mana, Feuchtwanger, Mark Twain, Stvenson, Romain Roland, Galsworthy, Tolstoy and all his volumes and there are about 19 of them! I didn't read Dostoevsky, I didn't like him. But Azek Azimov, Ursuda Le Guin, Tolkien, Kipling, Conandoyle, Louis Besenar and others I read with pleasure. Li Bo, the poetry is gorgeous. Novels of feudal and late feudal China, Japan, Korea. Novels and novels by Chinese prose writers of the early 20s and 80-90s of the 20th century.

In general, I read about 10,000 books. Fiction, fantasy, poetry, historical novels, ballads, myths and legends.

After that I became interested in reading historical documentaries - about the history of the Silk Road, Archeology, History, Ethnography, Etymology, the Big Game, the story of the confrontation of imperial intelligence in the vast regions of the Silk Road.

I read about 550 books, from the 16th to the beginning of the 21st century.

I have some kind of base for evaluating short stories and novels.

Sometimes works written flawlessly in terms of grammar, alas ... they are completely devoid of meaning, they are not interesting, they do not have fascinating stories, conclusions, experience, thoughts. But work with poor grammar, on the contrary, have unique information. Of course, not all works, but there are some.

Therefore, when assessing the creativity of another person, the author, being so categorical in evaluations, says only that you have a maximalist who still knows life poorly. This is the right of choice, each person, and to impose a choice on another according to my preferences, I consider this not comme il faut. Well, here everyone has a point of view.

In fact, this is an eternal question - what is more important? Beautiful text form or good content? Bestsellers are those works that combine good text and good content.

I am the author myself. But not a professional writer, but a techie. I don't know much about composition, about the intricacies of writing good text. But I have a very interesting content. Is my story garbage? I do not think so? Do I respect the reader? Sure. But writing is better so far I can't. Nevertheless, I have my own circle - readers who are interested in my work. There are not hundreds or thousands of people, but a couple of dozen will be typed.

I write in the genre - a documentary historical fiction, there are many interesting facts about the Silk Road with which I wanted to share. If I were waiting for the moment when I could write well in terms of English grammar ... I would not be able to share it now ... maybe in a couple of years ... and still I would not be able to write like this they write - people from English-speaking countries. This is a favorite topic of native speakers to reproach those who learn this language in their ignorance of the intricacies of the language they learn, grammar and spelling errors ... As we say, the dog barks, the caravan goes on. That happens.

English is the world language of communication. Moreover, for me it is the third language. I speak English well, but my grammar is lame. I admit it. Yes, I need to teach her, but I don't think I can write in perfect English.

The overall result - write as you can, share your thoughts, in the era of information, the content itself is important and not its form. One way or another, it can help others, they can come to a new thought and write a story about your topic that you would like to read yourself!


As they say in the East - do good and throw it into the water, a person will not know, the fish will know!

Peace and prosperity!

Thoughts of why and why stories are written.

All the same English, he has not improved in 18 days.

I'll figure something out, try to correct the text.

---------------------------------------------------------
This is a work of art. Any resemblance to real people or real events is purely coincidental.

The Meiji period marks the re-opening of Japan to the West, ending over two centuries of period of national seclusion, and a period of rapid industrialization. The introduction of European literature brought free verse into the poetic repertoire. It became widely used for longer works embodying new intellectual themes. Young Japanese prose writers and dramatists struggled with a whole galaxy of new ideas and artistic schools, but novelists were the first to assimilate some of these concepts successfully.

Natsume Sōseki's (1867–1916) humorous novel Wagahai wa neko de aru(I Am a Cat, 1905) employed a cat as the narrator, and he also wrote the famous novels Botchan (1906) and Kokoro(1914). Natsume, Mori Ōgai, and Shiga Naoya who was called "god of the novel" as the most prominent "I novel" writer, were instrumental in adopting and adapting Western literary conventions and techniques. Ryūnosuke Akutagawais known especially for his historical short stories. Ozaki Kōyō, Kyōka Izumi, and Ichiyo Higuchi represent a strain of writers whose style hearkens back to early-Modern Japanese literature.


In the early Meiji period (1868–1880s), Fukuzawa Yukichi authored Enlightenment literature, while pre-modern popular books depicted the quickly changing country. Then Realismwas brought in by Tsubouchi Shōyō and Futabatei Shimei in the mid-Meiji (late 1880s–early 1890s) while the Classicism of Ozaki Kōyō, Yamada Bimyo and Kōda Rohan gained popularity. Ichiyō Higuchi, a rare female writer in this era, wrote short stories on powerless women of this age in a simple style in between literary and colloquial. Kyōka Izumi, a favored disciple of Ozaki, pursued a flowing and elegant style and wrote early novels such as The Operating Room (1895) in literary style and later ones including The Holy Man of Mount Koya (1900) in colloquial.

Romanticism was brought in by Mori Ōgai with his anthology of translated poems (1889) and carried to its height by Tōson Shimazaki etc. and magazines Myōjō and Bungaku-kai in early 1900s. Mori also wrote some modern novels including The Dancing Girl (1890), The Wild Geese (1911), then later wrote historical novels. Natsume Sōseki, who is often compared with Mori Ōgai, wrote I Am a Cat (1905) with humor and satire, then depicted fresh and pure youth in Botchan (1906) and Sanshirô (1908). He eventually pursued transcendence of human emotions and egoism in his later works including Kokoro (1914) his last and unfinished novel Light and darkness(1916).

Shimazaki shifted from Romanticism to Naturalism which was established with his The Broken Commandment (1906) and Katai Tayama's Futon (1907). Naturalism hatched "I Novel" (Watakushi-shôsetu) that describes about the authors themselves and depicts their own mental states. Neo-romanticism came out of anti-naturalism and was led by Kafū Nagai, Jun'ichirō Tanizaki, Kōtarō Takamura, Hakushū Kitahara and so on in the early 1910s. Saneatsu Mushanokōji, Naoya Shiga and others founded a magazine Shirakaba in 1910. They shared a common characteristic, Humanism. Shiga's style was autobiographical and depicted states of his mind and sometimes classified as "I Novel" in this sense. Ryūnosuke Akutagawa, who was highly praised by Soseki, wrote short stories including Rashōmon (1915) with an intellectual and analytic attitude, and represented Neo-realism in the mid-1910s.

During the 1920s and early 1930s the proletarian literary movement, comprising such writers as Takiji Kobayashi, Denji Kuroshima, Yuriko Miyamoto, and Ineko Sata produced a politically radical literature depicting the harsh lives of workers, peasants, women, and other downtrodden members of society, and their struggles for change.

War-time Japan saw the début of several authors best known for the beauty of their language and their tales of love and sensuality, notably Jun'ichirō Tanizaki and Japan's first winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature, Yasunari Kawabata, a master of psychological fiction. Ashihei Hino wrote lyrical bestsellers glorifying the war, while Tatsuzō Ishikawa attempted to publish a disturbingly realistic account of the advance on Nanjing. Writers who opposed the war include Denji Kuroshima, Mitsuharu Kaneko, Hideo Oguma, and Jun Ishikawa.

this is made for the purpose of getting the authors badge  at any rate I'll just compile world literature

"I love you, Franklin!" 


Fan's excited screams and shrieks assaulted the auditory system of Ben Atticus Alcántara Junior who was ushered into the shopping mall by his security team. 


"How long till this nightmare is over?" He asked his manager while waving and smiling at the rowdy crowd. 


"Judging from the crowd outside" His manager frowned down at his wristwatch, "I'll say six hours" 


"Christ," He muttered, taking off his aviator sunglass when he reached his signing table. 


Thankfully, his fans calmed down as soon as the event signing began, saving his head from throbbing further. 


"Your name sweetheart". He asked the first female fan who was standing before him and blushing furiously. 


"Soraya"


"Soraya, it is" 


He went ahead to sign his autograph and wrote on the title page of the book. "Warm wishes to you, Soraya" 


But he never expected such a simple gesture would bring tears to the girl's eyes. 


"I love you so much author, your books have so many times saved me from depression" She confessed and though he would love to motivate her for hanging onto life, there was a train trail of people eager to meet him. 


"I'm happy that my book healed you and I hope you know that you're a strong person; say no to depression, thank you" He handed the signed purchased copy of the book back to her as his manager helped her exit the line. 


Ben knew he was famous but he underestimated his enthusiastic fan who waited patiently and wasn't discouraged by the long queue. 


He went through the routine of signing and thanking every one of them for their support until… 


"Name"


"Linda "


He glanced up and froze. 


Not again. 


Their gazes met and held for a while until he broke the contact and smiled at her. 


"Full name, please"


"Linda Horead"


"Are you sure that's your real name considering the fact you're occupying that body?" He mumbled under his breath but the girl caught his words loud and clear, their gaze collided again. 



"Thanks for coming to my book signing event Linda, wish you a long life" he handed the book to her after signing it. 


To others hearing, there was nothing wrong with his words but the girl whose earlier smile had now turned into a full scowl with her gaze trained intensely on him understood the hidden meaning beneath those words. 



"Thank you" Linda forced a smile and strode away but not without casting one last deadly gaze. 


Wonderful, Ben chided himself. 


He had sworn not to get involved with the likes of them again but at the end of the day, his blabbermouth still betrayed him. 


With a sigh, he continued the book signing and presentation; just as his manager estimated he was done in six hours. 


After a short interview by a reporter, Ben thanked everyone for their contribution towards making the book signing event a memorable one and left. 


"Get me painkillers" Ben ordered his personal assistant just as his manager got into the van. 


"Everything has been settled for today, I'll drive you to the hotel where you'll spend the night and move to Creek City tomorrow. 


Ben lowered the rear glass intending to get some air when a male fan or so he thought blocked his view. 


"Hi Franklin " He called him by his pseudonym while recording their conversation with his tablet," I'm a huge fan of your works "


Ben gave him a dubious look, "Which of my books have you read? "


"U-umm..the book with the she-girl or is it the he-devil? "


"F*ck off, " He told him and closed the window, that news would surely hit the tabloids in the next hour. 


As an award-winning paranormal writer, all eyes were on him. The Internet had dubbed him, "The hand of Gold " since all of his books were bestsellers; anything he wrote was a success. 


Critics had praised and termed his book, "Something out of this world, it was like bringing an entirely different universe into this world "


If only they knew that whatever happened in those books were not fiction as they thought but reality. 


They all called him the master of fantasy but that was possible because he was something called a Medium. 


He was the bridge between the living and the dead; a conduit for supernatural creatures who wanted to harass his ability. 


Ben could see ghosts and banish them away or help them cross over to the afterlife - depending on how nice they were - when not trying to possess his body. 


Unlike what people think, it wasn't hard for ghosts to possess humans, especially weak bodies or ones with a weak will. 


But no matter what, they couldn't last there since it was against the rule of nature; order must be restored. The dead must belong to the dead and the living with the living. 


Sadly the case wasn't the same for him. Since he wasn't living nor dead, just living in between both, it made him an instant target for aggrieved ghosts who were hellbent on achieving revenge. 


When people die not everyone moves on immediately, especially those who died a sudden or violent death. 


Some still linger on earth waiting for justice to be served before they could find peace while the others search for their killer and exerts their revenge - those were the ones he had to watch out for. 


Unlike human bodies which withers and becomes inconvenient for them after long possession, Ben was the perfect vessel! 


He wouldn't wither nor die off so a grieved ghost normally sorted his body for possession. 


All through his years, he had to ward off ghosts who hassled him for years and they seem to have a knack for popping up in inappropriate places - bathroom, toilet - you name it. 


Some even went ahead to assault him! Unfortunately for him, there was not an afterlife court of law he could lay down his complaints yet - he just had to catch one of those damned grim reapers. 


"By the way, madam wants to see you " His manager informed him, rousing him from his thoughts. 


He snorted, "She still remembers she has a son? How surprising "


"She's in the hospital "


"What?! "

~He loved her desperately but sometimes love Can not be enough~

What would you do if you loved someone so much she's your world, however, you can't be with her. Not because you got nothing, but because the forces at play are much greater than you. 

Scarlett had always believed she was cursed because any man she dates, bad things happen to them. But then, it wasn't just a curse but an entity she didn't believe in. 

Jasper would do anything to keep Scarlett safe and for them to be together. But what if the problem is that, he's not just the right man for the job? 

Ben wants nothing but to be free from the daily disturbances from ghosts. They know he's their only shot at having peace and they flock to him; each with their intention. However, what if Ben has to find peace for a certain human too? 


~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Your body is strong enough to house me until I have my revenge!" The ghost disclosed her plans to him.




Ben Atticus Alcántara Junior is a world-famous award-winning paranormal author but there was something the world didn't know about him, he's a medium; the bridge between the dead and the living. 

What happens when he finds out that his best friend is getting married to a woman destined to bring nothing but death to him? 

What happens when both parties cross paths? 

Would he turn a blind eye or head in to save the day even if it means breaking the both of them up? 
Would a heart-stirring romance brew between them in the journey?

Note : This isn't your typical story , the MC has a dark side to him hence don't expect a sweet, fluffy romance story because this is a mix of paranormal. Also this is a spin off from the book, " The she-devil and her alphas," 

Other books :

1: Taming A Billionaire 
2: THE SHE-DEVIL AND HER ALPHAS

Find me on discord: https://discord.gg/swmysryXAG

The King of Wanderers smiled slightly at my words. "It has been a long time? I saw you last time."

"We just passed by each other at the time."

So far, I had seen the King of Wanderers twice. The first was when Han Sooyoung and I destroyed Song Minwoo and the second was when the Disaster of Floods was killed.

This was the third time... 

The King of Wanderers slowly took off her mask. As expected, it was her face.

I asked, "When did you get out?"

"A little while ago."

We looked at each other for a moment. My mother and I didn't look alike. No matter how hard I looked, it was only a face in the late 30s. When I was a child, I often heard that she looked like my older cousin. Of course, that was when I still had my father.

"Did you live in Seoul?"

She replied, "I came to meet someone I knew."

"Then you were accidentally caught in the Seoul Dome?"

"Yes."

"You have been released. Why are you wearing the prison uniform?"

"Let's see? Perhaps it is out of a desire for atonement?"

"...Atonement? You?"

"Every human is a prisoner. They have their own prison."

I stared at my mother. That shameless tone... She really hadn't changed. She told me, "Can't you say any words of thanks? You would've had a harder time without me."

...Certainly, she helped. My mother led her forces north to the disaster. It was great, no matter how weak the disaster. In fact, I believed that she would do it properly. I hated my mother but I also knew my mother well.

"You are meeting your mother but you don't seem happy."

"Do you really want that?"

"A little bit."

[The exclusive skill 'Lie Detection Lv. 1' is activated.]

[You have confirmed that the statement is false.]

How funny. I knew it was a lie but I still had to check. I said, "You have survived. You are a great survivor."

"It is thanks to the story you told me."

"...I guess so."

"You are the only one who came to the prison to see me and told me about the novel you read."

That was correct. I never had a proper conversation with my mother during all the times I visited her at the prison. I only talked about Ways of Survival. Once I became tired of it, I stopped visiting. "I didn't have anything else to say apart from the novel."

"How can that be?"

"The novel was all I had."

An image of the past came to mind before disappearing. If there hadn't been Ways of Survival or the author who wrote the story, perhaps I wouldn't be in this world right now. This story was the only comfort to the Kim Dokja who didn't have a mother or a father.

My mother muttered, "It is at most a fantasy novel..."

"In the end, you survived thanks to that novel."

We stared silently at each other for a moment.

[The constellation 'Prisoner of the Golden Headband' is looking at you with excited eyes.]

[The constellation Secretive Plotter is looking at you with strange eyes.]

[The constellation Demon-like Judge of Fire is watching you with sad eyes.]

I was the one who broke the silence first. "What attributes did you get? It might be related to the novel I told you."

"Should I tell you?"

"Yes, if you still think of me as your child."

"I wonder if you think of me as your mother."

"A little bit."

[The character 'Lee Sookyung' has used 'Lie Detection Lv. 1'.]

['Lee Sookyung' has confirmed that the statement is false.]

Dammit. My mother already had this skill. There was a hint of sorrow in my mother's expression. I had no way of knowing if it was acting or not.

She asked, "Are you still holding a grudge against me?"

"I'm not here to talk about that."

"Your father was the bad guy."

"I know."

There were certainly 'bad people' in this world. One type used violence against their wives, illegally gambled and threatened their family's livelihood.

My father was a bad person. I knew it, my mother knew it and South Korea's laws said it. However...

"Your actions weren't right just because my father was a bad person."

"There are things we have to sacrifice for a better life."

"There is no such law in South Korea. There is a law that any human who commits murder should go to prison."

"You are good at speaking because you only read novels."

"For me, reality was more like a novel. Because of you."

At this point, it already wasn't a normal conversation between mother and son. This was why I didn't want to talk to her. I knew what would happen when we talked. We knew too much about how to hurt each other.

I changed the topic. "Do you know why I am looking for you?"

"Let's see?"

"I can tell when you are lying so stop beating around the bush."

My mother smiled lightly.

"You have prisoner no. 406? Lend the grandmother to me."

"...Wouldn't it be better to take the incarnation with Jeon Woochi as a sponsor than this grandmother? I have many useful incarnations."

"Jeon Woochi is Mother's companion. Besides, the grandmother will be more help."

My mother stared at me for a moment before nodding. "Certainly, she might be useful because of the opponents. By the way, how do you know the sponsor of No. 406?"

"I can't say."

"Do you have a skill to see sponsors?"

I couldn't say anything to my mother. "Are you going to lend her to me?"

"I'll lend her. Instead..."

I was a bit afraid of what she would say next. My mother would probably suggest a deal I couldn't imagine at all. She said with a faint smile, "Next time, introduce me to your friends."

I was stunned and couldn't pick my next words.

...Shit. It was a perfect blow. My mother was the best at making bad people worse.

"Dokja. Look straight at reality. Even if fiction becomes reality, you shouldn't think of fiction as reality."

[The exclusive skill, 'Fourth Wall' is shaking violently!]

I only heard a few words but my entire world seemed to shake. I knew for sure. To this, this person was the strongest reminder of the 'reality' I hated.

"Do you understand?"

[The stigma 'Self-Rationalization Lv. 1' is activated.'

Disgusting. Now she wanted to act like a mother. Too many rivers had been crossed to go back now.

[The exclusive skill, 'Fourth Wall's' shaking has subsided.]

I couldn't bear it anymore and stood up. "That's right. I think that fiction is like reality. Why? It is because I have always been living that way."

"..."

"Maybe it seems pathetic to you. However, know this. At least I didn't sell 'reality as fiction' like you did."

I left the tent with these last words. Cool air entered my coat's collar and reached my body. I looked in front of me and saw the slightly startled Yoo Sangah.

"I-I'm sorry... Dokja-ssi was late..."

It was difficult. No, rather than difficult... It was shameful.

"Did you hear everything?"

Yoo Sangah bowed her head in a deep apology. The crown of her head could be seen.

I eventually sighed. "Would you like to take a walk?"

We walked along the platform of Yongsan Station. It was definitely a cold wind but the temperature changed when it touched my cheeks. There wasn't time to wash my hair but a nice fragrance floated from Yoo Sangah's hair.

I asked, "How is your hangover?"

"It's okay. By the way, I heard that you carried me on your back. I'm sorry. I troubled you."

"It was because you were looking after me."

We were silent for a moment before I opened my mouth. "Do you think it is strange? Why are a mother and son talking like that?"

"That's not true."

She was lying. It was extremely strange.

"Do you want to know?"

Yoo Sangah's eyes shook for a moment. "...If you don't mind."

I smiled bitterly. Yes, now was the time to talk. I took a deep breath before saying with exaggerated tone. "My mother killed my father."

Strangely, my words sounded ridiculous. I spoke like it was someone else's story.

"She went to prison for her sin."

I continued speaking.

"My father... it is shameful to say this but he is someone meant to die. Domestic violence, gambling, guarantor... my mother and I lived in fear every day. There wasn't a single day without bruises. I was sometimes hit. Then one day, my mother made up her mind and it happened."

"Ah..."

"I thought it was quite well-known at the company. Yoo Sangah-ssi didn't know?"

There was no answer from Yoo Sangah. She realized with the benefit of hindsight that she had touched a wound she shouldn't have touched.

"Do you feel even stranger now? It is legally wrong but you don't understand why I hate my mother."

"No! I'm not Dokja-ssi so I don't fully understand..."

"Honestly, do you think I should forgive her?"

Yoo Sangah couldn't say anything. It couldn't be helped. The touched wound had already burst.

There was an awkward silence before I spoke again. "Do you know the book called the Underground Killer? It was previously on the Kyobo bestsellers list."

Talk about a book emerged all of a sudden. Yoo Sangah thought the previous topic was closed and replied awkwardly, "I think I've heard of it. Wasn't it an amazing bestseller?"

"It was an essay written by an abused woman in prison after she killed her husband. It was praised by critics at the time. They said that a Korean version of Notes from Underground had come out. Of course, it was completely overrated."

Yoo Sangah's face suddenly darkened. She had noticed. I hadn't changed the topic at all.

"That's right. My mother wrote it."

Yoo Sangah's lips dropped open.

"I still remember the time a bunch of reporters waited in front of my house.  They kept asking me if the essay was real."

"..."

"I remember everything my classmates said. They told me that my mother made money by selling murder."

"Dokja-ssi..."

"My relatives also said this. My mother is a murderer. How dare she slip her face into the newspapers?"

Yoo Sangah wanted to say something but I kept going.

"It was a bit hard because of this.  No, it was hard for a long time."

"..."

"I could bear to be the child of a murderer. However, it is different to be sold as a story. It is a different matter when my life was turned into money by someone."

I looked at the sky. It wasn't night but I was more certain than ever that the distant constellations were watching me. Perhaps this story was meant for them as well.

However, no constellations sent me coins. Should I be glad? I didn't know.

"Do you still think that I should forgive my mother?"

I didn't want an answer. I didn't want her to understand in the first place. Maybe this was the ugliest form of violence I could do against Yoo Sangah, who grew up in a well-off family. It was an arbitrary display of unhappiness forced onto someone who would never understand.

The kind Yoo Sangah would grieve knowing that it was impossible for her to understand. I laughed at the unknown sense of victory. "I'm sorry. It was a joke."

"Huh?"

"It was a lie. Were you fooled? Do you think there is a novel like this? My mother and I are ordinary people and my father was in an accident when I was young..."

Then something small and soft gripped my hand. The texture was so warm that I forgot what I was about to say. For a while... I stopped walking.

Yoo Sangah wasn't looking at me. Thus, I wasn't looking at her either. We walked hand in hand without facing each other. It was as if this alone was sufficient. Strangely, my heart gradually calmed.

[The exclusive skill, 'Fourth Wall' is shaking faintly.]

Perhaps it was due to the realistic body temperature.

"Dokja-ssi!"

We neared the entrance of the station and there was the sound of people rushing forward. We reflexively let go of our hands. Jung Heewon ran over and asked, "Did the two of you kiss again?"

"K-Kiss?"

"Yoo Sangah-ssi is blushing. You did it, you did it!"

I would've misunderstood if I didn't know Yoo Sangah a bit more.

"Stop playing around. Nothing happened."

"Yes yes, I'm sure." Jung Heewon looked at me and said, "A strange grandmother came to find us. She was called by Dokja-ssi?"

An old woman with a cane walked out from the back of the party. "I hope this useless old body will be of help..."

Like other prisoners, the grandmother was wearing a blue prison uniform. She was prisoner no. 406. My mother acted very quickly.

"Are you Kim Dokja?"

"Yes, that's me."

"I've heard a lot about you from Sookyung. It is a pleasure."

"It is also a pleasure."

Sookyung was my mother's name. I looked around at the party members and said, "She is indeed the person I called. Let's depart."

We exited Yongsan Station and went to a place where people were gathered. Yoo Jonghyuk's party and the kings were already gathered there.

A white crystal slowly fell from the Great Hall in the sky. It was a crystal that shone with light.

[Warp Crystal.]

This was the item we would use to go to the next scenario area.

Only I know the end of this world.
One day our MC finds himself stuck in the world of his favorite webnovel. What does he do to survive? It is a world struck by catastrophe and danger all around.
His edge? He knows the plot of the story to end. Because he was the sole reader that stuck with it. Read his story to see how he survives!

MANY YEARS LATER

***

The summer months had come and gone, and once again September descended on the small town of Sunset Coast, California. It was, of course, an autumn only in name. The temperatures soared well into the nineties, and would continue to do so until mid-October. The ocean blew in a humid breeze that made everyone feel less sweaters and more tank tops. Even the trees weren't convinced that their time had come, staying green and leafy as the days ticked on, while their northern brothers covered the mountainsides in red and gold.

The only sure sign that the season had changed at all was the flipped calender pages in everyone's kitchens, and the deluge of college kids old and new returning for another year at Sunset Coast University, proud patron of underachieving high school students since 1946. Allie Breckenridge may not have bragged that this was her school at any job interviews, but at the end of the day, it was cozy, and it was home.

At least, when it wasn't wringing her dry for every cent she had. 

English major that she was, Allie understood more than most that books didn't just grow on trees. But online courses had no excuse costing upward of two hundred dollars for a code on a piece of paper. Every September, it was always the same. Take half her summer earnings, pawn off anything unnecessary from her tiny student home a mile away from campus, and pray to everything holy that she had enough cash to buy all her books.

She'd squeaked by with secondhand copies and a few extra shifts at the cafe her previous two years studying here. But those were her core classes. Now, as a junior, her courses were moving toward more specialized material — and in the case of her major, that meant reading. Lots and lots of reading. And more reading meant more books. Twenty novels and three anthologies, to be exact. Two new textbooks, one for history and one for French. And the two hundred dollar code for her math class, which she couldn't afford, because the professor this year had switched at the last minute from the course she actually budgeted for.

Allie bit down on her lip and groaned bitterly. There was nothing for it. With the new code, the books cost five hundred fifty dollars, and she only had four hundred to spare. If she returned ten of the scrappy used novels and one anthology, she could squeeze in under budget. But the year was just starting, and to make one hundred fifty dollars on top of her rent and utilities, she'd have to beg her manager for as many shifts as possible within the first month of school.

All because of a stupid code on a stupid piece of cardboard.

The iced coffee in her hand, now melted and mostly empty, felt a lot guiltier now than when she bought it an hour ago. With a disgusted sigh, she tossed it in the trash, put back her old British novels and Best American Short Stories, and walked to the front of the bookstore to fork over her cash.

The student bookstore sat in the back of the recently renovated student union, a couple hundred yards and two staircases down from the only entrance that wasn't still under construction. Allie hated the place, furiously, perhaps a bit unfairly, though she didn't let it stop her. Most book shops were quiet havens for her, shelves lined with colorful spines, the promise of a good story hanging thick in the air. But importantly, the student union didn't have a book shop. It had a book store, and worse, it was a university book store. Meaning: more floor space was given to orange, red, and yellow SCU merchandise than books, they kept all their fiction to a single back shelf of bestsellers, and everything they sold was much, much too expensive.

She couldn't get out quickly enough.

A line stood at the register today, young freshman grabbing last minute coursebooks and arguing over whether they needed sixth edition or seventh for Honors Algebra I. When her turn finally came, a friendly-looking girl with wavy black hair smiled at her from behind the counter. Allie had no idea where the energy for that smile came from, especially when it looked so genuine, but she did her best to return it even as the dread of a four hundred dollar purchase loomed over her.

She heaved her stack of books onto the countertop and pushed them across, where the girl took them and started scanning them with a cheery swiftness to match her smile. Allie could only watch in confused silence. No one on Earth was supposed to act this cheerful behind a register. Surely some law of the universe forbade it. Or maybe her boss was right, and this is what he meant when he said she could smile more if she just tried.

"Did you find everything you were looking for today?" the girl asked, turning her bright-eyed look from the books to Allie.

"Yes. Unfortunately," she replied, realizing too late the sardonic word she tacked on the end. She laughed to play it off as a joke, but the register girl had already quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Unfortunately?" Running her hands over the keyboard, the girl punched in the numbers of her books, then gave a quiet gasp of understanding. "Ah. Right. I think I see what you mean."

She didn't have to read off the total. The helpful green panel on the back of the register told Allie everything she needed to know: with tax, her total was $405.67. All her budgeted money, and a meal on top of it. Allie grunted, digging her worn out wallet from the back pocket of her jeans.

"Nothing I wasn't expecting, don't worry." She slid her debit card across the counter, a bit of her soul still clinging to those precious tips she'll never get back. "Kinda sucks, though. I'll be back in a month or so for the other half."

The girl's eyebrows arced all the way up now, after sliding her card through the reader with a tidy and tragic beep.

"Half? Oh, honey," she said, her voice dipping out of its customer service lilt, down to the range where a normal person might speak. "You know there are people on campus who can help you out —"

Something hard lurched in Allie's chest. The pride of a foster kid, who'd always made it on her own before. Or the innate distrust in anything — person, system, or charity — that offered to help her without asking something in return. 

She cut the girl off before she could continue. "No, no. I'm alright. I can manage." Her words came out curter than she'd hoped, but at least they welcomed no opportunity for this well-meaning girl to talk to her any longer. She grabbed the bag, her arms sagging with the weight. "Have a nice day."

"Have a nice day?"

The register girl's concerned and confused reply very nearly disappeared into the chatter beyond the door as Allie shouldered past students coming in to do their own fresh round of shopping, but she caught just enough of it to curse her stupid, pigheaded stubbornness.

Then again, that was who she was. Allie Breckenridge, reliant on no one, perfectly happy on her own. If she'd been any different, odds were she wouldn't have made it past ten.

From the ashes of a fallen kingdom, five girls rise to stand against the dark.

Allie Breckenridge has never been anything but normal. She finished in the middle of her class, got into a middle-of-the-road university -- everything since leaving behind her series of foster homes has been middle, middle, middle. She's sure all she has to look forward to is a quiet life in some suburb, forgettable in every way.

Until a demon attacks her college career fair, her archaeology TA tells her she can summon fire from her fingertips, and a hidden history of the world unravels before her eyes. 

Turns out there's more to her past than she ever thought, and even worse, it's up to her to save the future.

Wang Jian flipped through the book called "I Am a Grand Master" in his mind, reading it slowly.
This book was about an ordinary high school student named Wu Lai, who was struck by otherworldly lightning and was whisked away into a different world.
But this new foreign world no longer had steam or electricity; it had magic and swords.
Fortunately, Wu Lai was born with a special talent. By eating sweet potatoes, he was able to cultivate and control his immensely powerful and magical abilities. He was able to vanquish powerful beasts and conquer alluring beauties, and become the King of both Heaven and Hell.
In the end, he became the legendary Demon King and lived happily ever after with his wife and concubines.
This book was very interesting because of a few points: it was easy for the characters to gain abilities and improve their strengths, there were a plethora of powerful demons that created interesting fighting scenes, and the princesses of two different tribes—the gods and the demons—were in a heated rivalry.
It was also very interesting to note that in the end, the main character was incredibly captivating, with wings that were half black-and-white, and forbidden magic referred to as Absolute Zero, Earth Bear and so on.
Wang Jian found it to be thrilling but slightly cringeworthy at the same time.
It was truly exciting.
Compared to Aquaman, the comic he had just read, it was like eating a mouthful of garlic and chili peppers, the more you ate, the more addictive it became.
However, it was slightly awkward because the writing was childish; with too many explicit scenes and a few contextual errors.
However, these were all unimportant. The important thing was that Wang Jian thought this book seemed inexplicably familiar.
He quietly looked at the rows of bookshelves in his mind and watched as the second book began to slowly take shape.
Wang Jian's heart throbbed in his chest.
These books were ones he had read in his past life, were they not?
Perhaps he could find predictions on future American developments? Then, he could use the foresight to seize opportunities and rise up to the top of the ranks.
He would be able to make decisions without hesitating.
Wang Jian said to himself once more, "I am a Grand Master."
It felt as though he had special abilities that enabled him to quickly read books in his mind.
After a few minutes, Wang Jian finished reading it once more.
But...
The book had absolutely nothing to do with reality.
Let alone the future of America.
The main character did nothing but fight and fall in love...
This was awkward.
Wang Jian felt that the story would be better off if it had some elements of advanced weaponry or something along those lines, just like in "Aquaman."
The veins on his forehead pulsated slightly as a thought popped into his mind, "Should I publish these novels and make money?"
Though, translating the novel from Chinese to English would be a gruelling task.
Would the Americans even be able to digest such explicit and perverted content in a novel?
Suddenly, the phone in his apartment rang.
Wang Jian rushed to answer it. A familiar female voice was heard from the other end of the line.
It was supervising officer, Lily Rush, who was calling to make sure he hadn't committed another criminal offense and that he was regularly attending his community service.
Wang Jian needed to report to her at two in the afternoon and perform four hours of community service.
Looking up at the clock, it was 1:30 pm.
He was so preoccupied with reading the comics and novels in his head that he had forgotten to eat lunch.
Wang Jian flew downstairs, bought a random sandwich on the way, and caught the bus. He ran towards the assembly point as fast as his legs could take him.
The assembly point was in the Bronx, in one of the more upscale White neighborhoods, and the prisoners who were ordered to perform community service there were mainly petty criminals, they were mostly Yellow and White.
As for the Blacks and Latinos, most of them were ordered to pick up the trash along railroads and highways.
When Wang Jian arrived at the assembly point, it was exactly two o' clock.
Lily Rush was a blonde-haired beauty who was about 170 tall and wore a blue uniform. She looked at him with a slight frown, asking of him to, "Be a little more punctual next time."
"Yes, yes." Wang Jian said breathlessly.
"Grab your tools, partner up with him, and go clean up the neighborhood." She pointed to an old White man who stood some distance away.
Then, she strode off on her high heels and walked back to her car.　　
Wang Jian turned his head and saw the old White man across the street. He was a small, bald man with a wrinkled face and a pair of tiny, light eyes.
"Hello, you can call me Wang," Wang Jian said, "Looks like we'll be partners from now on. What's your name?"
"John Kramer," the old White man replied gruffly before falling silent.
Wang Jian shrugged. It was fine if the old man didn't want to be friendly. He needed time alone to think about how to make more money anyways.
After he was done with the community service tasks for the day, he could go to the bookstore to check out the types of books that were popular nowadays.
Would it be possible for "I Am a Grand Master" to be published so he could rake in some money?
It would be great if he could make money from it. If not, he would have no choice but to continue looking for a job.
Suddenly, the old man, who supposedly went by John, asked Wang Jian, "Why're you here doing community service?"
Caught off guard, Wang Jian was startled at first. Then, he replied in a sheepish tone, "Theft, but it was a first offense. My sentence was suspended and now I'm doing community service. How about you?"
The old man's eyes narrowed, then he said in a gruff voice, "Reckless driving and damaging public property. Why did you steal?"
"Uh—" Wang Jian hesitated before speaking, "I wanted to go to community college, graduate with a diploma, and get a good job. My student loan wasn't approved because of my family's background."
"Oh." Old Man John simply nodded and said nothing more.
Wang Jian noticed that the other man's tone of voice wasn't as bitter. However, he wasn't sure if his ears were simply playing tricks on him.
The gentle breeze that swept the East Coast of the United States couldn't quell the gradually rising temperatures, but at least the sunny weather felt comforting.
Before he knew it, Wang Jian's first day of community service came to an end.
After signing off and saying goodbye to Old Man John, he stopped by a news stand and bought a copy of "America's Best-selling Books—'94–⁠⁠'95 Special Edition."
Then, he made a beeline for his apartment.
He couldn't stop running; the area around the apartment was so chaotic.
The area was full of gang members from the Crips and from the Bloods, who were at constant war with each other. There were countless other small gangs in the area.
The 18th Street Gang, the Aryan Brotherhood, the Jamaican Posse, the infamous MS-13, the Salvadores— any gang that came to mind, you would find them here.
The gangs ran everything from drug trafficking, hiring assassins and killing people, to going door to door selling vegetables and managing garbage disposal.
They were involved in everything you could imagine.
As a result, the Bronx was also known as one of the three most crime-ridden neighborhoods in America, as well as Compton in Los Angeles and the South Side of Chicago.
"Free America, Shoot Every Day" was a perfect depiction of that.
After a stressful run back to his apartment, Wang Jian was determined to work hard and earn some cash so he could move out of the Bronx as soon as he was done with community service.
He looked at the New York Times bestselling rankings.
On the list of bestsellers that weren't categorised according to genre, but instead based on total sales, "Carnegie's Secrets of Success" was ranked Number One.
"The Science of Success" was ranked at Number Two.
The highest-ranking, upcoming bestseller published in 1994–1995 was ranked Number 37 in the overall rankings— the "Conversations with God" series.
The second highest ranking went to "The Federal Reserve," published in 1994, which was ranked Number 40 in the overall rankings.
The third highest ranked book was "The Blood Plague: the Story of Ebola" at Number 44. The book was also ranked Number One in the hard science fiction category.


Reborn in the United States in 1995, with all the web novels he has read in his head.

Let's see how he uses online literature to skew America's bestseller rankings and become a popular cultural master like Stan Lee.

In the 20th century, what is the largest IP in Hollywood?

It's comics and web novels!

Netflix? It's nothing without online literature! Disney's CEO later claims.

DANGEROUS KISS
jackie Collins is the author of eighteen provocative and controversial bestsellers. She lives in Beverly Hills, California.

    'Another year,another Jackie Collins.
              And how we love them'
                        DAILY MAIL
  
              'jackie, we salute you!'
                 COSMOPOLITAN
'Fizzing, sizzling and raunchy from cover to cover ' 
                        EXPRESS
___________________________________
              Book by Jackie Collins 
The santangelo Novels
chances
Lucky 
Lady Boss
Vendett: Lucky's Revenge 
___________________________________





So just to clarify I don't hold any copyright to this novel I'm just sharing this novel with some readers....😇

In Cbances Lucky grew up in a top crime family, in Lucky she was married three times, in Lady Boss she took on Hollywood  and bought panther studios, and in Vendetta: Lucky's Revenge, she fought off a life-long enemy to keep the studio and her husband.
Now, in Dangerous Kiss, when a member of her family is brutally gunned down in a random car-jacking, her fury knows no bounds. While tracking the killer, her relationship with her husband is put severely to the test. And suddenly into her life comes a man from her past. A man with a dangerous kiss... 
Dangerous Kiss is a story of raw anger, love, lust, murder and revenge, and at its white-hot centre is Lucky Santangelo,  a strong exciting woman, who dares to take chances-and always wins.

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Dangerous Kiss 'Those lips! Those eyes! Oh behave! '

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