Umee_uuuuuuw

Thank you. Truly, thank you for noticing and caring about even the smallest details in my story. However, the current cover of this book was made for me by a friend when I was preparing to publish it, so it means a great deal to me. I’ve also saved the cover image you kindly made, and I’d love to use it on another platform when I upload the story there. When that happens, I’ll be sure to let you know. I’ve also read through all of your comments and sincerely taken note of every suggestion, shortcoming, and detail you pointed out. I’ll keep them in mind and work on improving in the future, so that I can become better, create stronger stories, and bring readers a more satisfying experience.[img=Loving it][img=Loving it][img=Loving it]

ok you handsome too

Thank you thank you so much. La la la la

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I appreciate your feedback. However, this book was already completed before I published it, so I can't go back and revise it. Instead, I promise I'll remember your advice and apply it to my next book. My journey doesn't end here. Maybe I'll write a hundred books in my lifetime and only one of them will succeed. Or maybe none of them will. Either way, that's okay. To me, my greatest achievement is having readers and even critics like you, notice my work and genuinely care enough to comment on it. I've stopped crying. Now I'm focusing on becoming a writer, seriously. Truly seriously. P.S. I'm going to think of you as a strict but experienced “mother-in-law”, someone who's never afraid to tell the truth, even when it isn't sugar-coated. A blunt, honest “mother-in-law” who genuinely wants others to become better.

If one day you see me going out to eat, hanging out, or posting a few happy stories, please do not rush to conclude that I “feel no remorse,” that I am living wastefully, comfortably, richly, or without a single worry. There are moments of despair that I never posted. There are nights when I silently cried, struggling alone with depression, pressure, debt, guilt, and the fear of not knowing what tomorrow would become. I hid those things away, not because they did not exist, but because sometimes, a person simply wants to keep the last bit of dignity they have left in order to keep living. If you see someone today who can smile, step outside, eat a good meal, or take a beautiful photo, please be happy for them. Or if you cannot be happy for them, then quietly leave them alone. Do not use your imagination to judge someone else’s life. You do not know how hard it was for them to finally walk out of their room. You do not know how many days they were surrounded by negative thoughts, how many times they pulled themselves back from the edge without anyone knowing. It is fortunate that they are still alive. It is fortunate that after everything, they still have enough strength to go outside, to breathe, to smile, and to try living for one more day. Do not help destroy someone with your words, no matter how much you may dislike them. And if you see me starting to write stories again, please do not think that I am hiding in some corner, living an easy and carefree life. Writing is not my escape. Writing is the way I live, the way I exist, the way I gather the broken pieces of myself. There are things in real life that I cannot fully say, but in words, I can breathe. I can hurt, I can cry, I can stand up again with my characters. To me, writing is not a luxurious hobby. It is a thread that keeps me tied to this life. So, if possible, I hope everyone will support my new book. It may not be perfect, and I may still have many shortcomings, but it carries all the effort, hope, and courage I have at this moment. I want to continue writing, continue learning, continue correcting myself, and continue moving forward, even if slowly. I would also like to send special thanks to my first readers: Amelia_Gladhis, Vanadhi_Lucia, Viadhivan_Ranata, and Kamala_Nadhia. Perhaps to others, it was only a read, a name appearing somewhere, or a very small act of support. But to me, during the time when I was just slowly finding my way back to writing, those things truly meant a great deal. You were the first people to step into Jonas’s world, a world of magic, elves, wizards, monsters, and swordsmen. A world where, in order to survive, a person must either possess strength or wear a perfect disguise. Jonas was once only an ordinary person from Earth, who accidentally wandered into that unfamiliar world and became a swordsman under the disguise of a beggar. In exchange for his light, he gained strength a hundred times greater than that of an ordinary person. He lived in the town of S, training every day to become stronger, silently enduring the ridicule and contempt of others without caring. But then, the girl he cared for and cherished the most was killed by a hidden force. From that moment on, hatred awakened within Jonas, and his sword could no longer remain still. When writing Jonas, I thought a lot about a person who is looked down on but still quietly trains, quietly lives, and quietly endures until the day he can no longer stay silent. Perhaps there is also a part of me in him: the part that was once underestimated, the part that had to swallow many hurtful words, the part that tried to appear fine even when I was not fine inside. But instead of surrendering, Jonas chooses to stand up in his own way. As for me, I choose to return through words. That is why having my first readers appear on this journey makes me deeply grateful. It feels as if someone saw a flame that was still very small and still chose to stand beside it. I know this book may still have many shortcomings, Jonas’s world is still expanding, the characters are still growing, and so am I. But that first support gives me another reason to continue. Thank you, Amelia_Gladhis, Vanadhi_Lucia, Viadhivan_Ranata, and Kamala_Nadhia, for being the first people to step into this story. Thank you for giving Jonas a chance, and also for giving me a chance to keep writing. I will try harder, not only to complete this book, but also to be worthy of those who chose to stay from the very first days.

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