Ch - 1 A Paradoxical Character

Swayam sat at his desk, the soft glow of his laptop illuminating his face. The cursor blinked against the blank document, waiting for his thoughts to flow. On the desk beside him was a stack of fan fiction printouts, some bookmarked, others scribbled with notes. He leaned back, closing his eyes.

In his mind, a scene unfolded: a lone figure, much like himself, standing before a flickering television. The screen pulsed with an unnatural energy, beckoning him. With a deep breath, the character stepped through, his body dissolving into pixels before materializing inside the vibrant, chaotic world of his favorite anime.

The idea thrilled Swayam, not just because it was his story, but because it was his escape—a way to craft worlds where he wasn't bound by reality's dull inertia. For Swayam, fiction wasn't just an escape—it was a mirror. Through his characters, he explored his quirks, his stubbornness, his bursts of determination. In the fictional worlds he created, he could control everything, bending reality to his will.

The real world, however, was harder to navigate. Swayam often found himself drifting through life, watching others act while he remained still. Even now, as he scribbled down notes for his story, his phone buzzed beside him.

"Can you help with a package delivery?" read the message from a friend.

He frowned. It wasn't the request itself but the way it felt—like someone pushing him into a role he didn't choose. He typed back a single word: No. Then, he turned the phone over, letting it vibrate itself into silence.

One night, he decided to perfect a scene—a battle sequence set in a dystopian city. Hours blurred into dawn, his fingers tapping furiously. He ignored his growling stomach, the stiffness in his neck, even the concerned knock on his door.

When his father finally barged in, scolding him for skipping meals, Swayam froze. His father's words lingered, tainting his excitement. With a sigh, he closed his laptop and shoved it aside. The story would have to wait, its magic dulled by unwelcome interference.

At a family gathering the following weekend, Swayam was his usual paradoxical self. He laughed at jokes, offered advice to younger cousins, and even helped his uncle set up the projector for a movie.

But when his aunt repeatedly asked him to fetch drinks for the table—something he was already planning to do—he felt irritation creep in.

"I'm not doing it," he said firmly.

"But you always help!" his aunt protested.

"Not when I'm told ten times," he replied, his tone calm but immovable. He sat back, arms crossed, and ignored the subsequent huffing.

Despite his love for solitude, Swayam could immerse himself in social settings when needed. At his best friend's wedding, he was a silent anchor in the chaos. He calmed the nervous bride, helped wrangle uncooperative vendors, and even joined the dance floor briefly, earning surprised cheers. But as the night wound down, Swayam slipped out unnoticed.

He returned home to the comfort of his desk, the hum of his laptop waiting. He opened his story file, staring at the last sentence he'd written:

The protagonist stood at the edge of a crumbling tower, wind whipping his face. Behind him, a villainous laugh echoed, taunting his resolve.

Swayam typed furiously, breathing life into his hero. The story was more than just a pastime; it was an obsession.

As he saved his work for the night, he glanced at the glowing television screen across the room. "Someday," he murmured, half-joking, "I'll find a way to step through, just like my character."

The thought lingered as he tried to drift into sleep. But that casual thought didn't let him rest—his mind constantly wove scenes of distant galaxies and magical realms, making him question if it was actually possible to interact with a television and possibly take things in and out of it.

Unable to resist his curiosity, he got up and walked toward his android television. His heart raced as he powered it on, his mind alive with hypothetical scenarios: What if he could take something out? What if he could step inside? Would it even work?

When the TV turned on, it was playing Doraemon on Disney Channel via YouTube. Swayam hadn't been watching it; his cousin brother's five-year-old son had been crying at the family gathering earlier, and his parents had turned it on to calm the child.

Although it was Doraemon playing on the screen, in his anxious and excited state, the content didn't matter. What mattered was the experiment itself. Could he really interact with the television?

With bated breath, he extended his hand toward the screen. He wasn't optimistic—he was certain his hand would touch the solid glass and stop. But as his hand reached the screen, something extraordinary happened.

His hand didn't stop.

It slid through the screen effortlessly, the surface rippling like liquid. A cool, tingling sensation wrapped around his fingers, sending shivers down his spine.

Swayam stood frozen in disbelief, staring at his hand that was now submerged in the glowing world of the television. His heart pounded, the reality of the situation crashing down on him.

***

Comment here about what are your thoughts regarding this chapter.