Chapter 2: The First Stroke of Hope
"Can drawing comics actually extend your life?"
Lucien D. Blackthorn's eyes locked onto the words: 'gaining life'.
In that moment, his chest tightened with overwhelming emotion. It was like grabbing a life-saving rope while drowning in despair.
Because Lucien didn't want to die. He wanted to live.
"It's just a comic book?"
"Fine… I'll draw it."
If it meant doing what he loved—even if it cost him his final breath in a studio—Lucien was willing.
But now, with this mysterious system activated and a cheat-like boost on his side, perhaps death wouldn't be coming so easily after all…
"Master-level comic creation skills?"
Lucien closed his eyes and allowed the flood of information to fill his mind.
It was as if his brain had unlocked. Drawing technique, visual storytelling, color theory, background design, panel pacing, emotional expression—everything from anatomy to ambient lighting was suddenly embedded in his very soul.
His understanding of manga exploded to new heights.
"This feeling… it's incredible!"
"It really is master-level creation…"
Lucien longed to grab a pencil and let the pages flow from his hands—but his body betrayed him.
Post-surgery, he was weak to the point of immobility. The phrase "barely alive" wasn't an exaggeration.
But it wasn't just drawing mastery he'd gained. His memory had evolved too—like a high-definition recorder.
Every novel he'd read. Every anime he'd watched. Every face he'd seen. Every manga panel etched into his brain—clear, vivid, and accessible.
"Holy hell…"
Lucien had never felt this sharp. He understood what this meant.
This world didn't have the legendary manga of his past life.
Here, Slam Dunk, Death Note, Naruto, and Attack on Titan didn't exist.
That meant… he could bring them to life.
Yes, technically it was plagiarism—but if copying those works meant surviving another week, another day, another breath?
Then morals could wait. Life came first.
"Slam Dunk, Prince of Tennis, Death Note, Detective Conan, Attack on Titan… If I can get just one of these published—hell, even God won't be able to drag me down yet!"
Just as he began to feel courage returning to his chest, the system pinged again:
[Mission: Publish a Comic!]
Create and publish a comic within 5 days. Reach 5,000 readers. Reward: +5 Days Lifespan.
Lucien stared at the mission in awe.
"Wait—five whole days just for hitting 5k views? That's... incredibly generous!"
He was already brainstorming what series to start with when the door creaked open.
His doctor stepped in, smiling warmly.
"You're awake? Good timing. One of your classmates came to visit."
He stepped aside, and in walked a girl who could've stepped straight out of an anime.
Petite, poised, dressed in a sailor-style school uniform of blue and white. Long twin ponytails the color of spun gold. Her eyes, a dazzling sky blue, scanned the room in worry.
Sawamura Spencer Eriri.
Lucien recognized her instantly.
Through the original Lucien's memories, he knew she was a fellow student at Toyonosaki Academy, Class 2-G—and one of the top artists in the school's art club.
They'd barely spoken before, but she was well-known across campus for both her talent and beauty.
Lucien slowly turned his head and whispered through his oxygen mask:
"Sawamura-san… you came?"
His voice was faint, his face deathly pale. Sweat dotted his forehead from the effort of speaking.
Eriri immediately rushed to his bedside and knelt beside him.
"Are you okay?" she asked, eyes wide with panic.
Lucien gave her a small, tired smile. "I'm… alright. Thanks for coming… cough… cough…"
He began to cough violently, and color drained even further from his cheeks.
Eriri's face twisted with emotion. She had just spoken with the doctor. She knew the truth.
Lucien had days to live.
Just days… and he was still forcing a smile.
Even though she barely knew him, her heart ached with grief.
"I came on behalf of our classmates and the club," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "We're all worried about you. Please get better soon."
She hesitated, then added, "The teacher contacted your parents. They're flying in from the States. They'll be here soon, so… hang on, okay?"
Her voice cracked with emotion.
Lucien looked at her—really looked at her—for the first time. She wasn't just a classmate now. She had tears forming in her eyes, real sorrow clouding her expression.
"…Thank you," he said softly.
He shut his eyes for a moment, exhausted.
Eriri sat quietly, watching his face.
He was handsome. Not the pretty-boy kind, but there was warmth in his smile, and strength in his eyes—even now, as he lay on death's doorstep.
It hurt to see someone so full of potential slipping away.
Suddenly, Lucien's eyes flicked open again.
He looked straight at her.
"Eriri," he whispered. "I have a request…"