Kaito Ren sat hunched over his cheap desk, the glow of his battered laptop illuminating his weary face. His cramped one-room apartment in Tokyo smelled faintly of instant ramen and dust, the lingering perfume of countless all-nighters.
The cursor blinked on the screen like a heartbeat, taunting him. His word count read: 8,926 words.
A decent draft for some, but for Kaito it was just another failure in progress.
He rubbed his temples and muttered under his breath."Another world, another protagonist, another set of clichés… who's even going to read this crap?"
Outside, rain lashed against the thin glass window. The neon lights of Shinjuku flickered weakly in the distance, a reminder that the world outside was alive, vibrant, and uncaring to his struggle.
Kaito was twenty-three. Not old, but not young enough to keep chasing childish dreams without consequence. His parents had stopped asking about his writing years ago, settling instead on quiet sighs and worried glances during rare family dinners. His editor—if he could still call her that—had stopped replying to his emails.
But still, he wrote. Because what else did he have?
He stared at the protagonist on his screen. Akira Shion, the Chosen One. Handsome, overpowered, blessed by gods, hated by demons, destined to unite kingdoms. Kaito had written dozens of characters like him, always tweaking the formula, always failing to break free of mediocrity.
This time, he had tried something different. He introduced a world with self-aware NPCs, background characters who resented being ignored, a story that fought back against the author's hand. But even now, it felt… hollow.
He sighed, saved the draft, and clicked "Upload" to his usual online platform.
That was when the error message appeared.
[Upload Failed – World Already Exists.]
Kaito blinked. "Huh?"
He tried again. And again. Each time, the same strange message popped up.
[Upload Failed – World Already Exists.]
"This… is new." He scratched his messy black hair, half-amused, half-annoyed. "Is the server glitching?"
But then the words changed.
[Author recognized.][Unfinished Manuscript Detected.][Would you like to continue writing inside?]
The cursor blinked faster. His laptop fan whirred louder, the hum filling the silence of his tiny apartment.
"What the hell kind of prank is this?" Kaito whispered.
He hovered over the Yes button. Some part of him—exhausted, desperate, and foolish—wanted to click. Because wasn't that the dream? To live inside the world he created? To finally escape his own miserable life and walk among the heroes and villains he crafted?
Lightning flashed outside, plunging the room into brief darkness. When the screen returned, the Yes option was already selected.
And then, the laptop exploded with light.
Kaito gasped, choking as something yanked him forward—like his body was being pulled through the screen, pixel by pixel. His room stretched, warped, dissolved into streams of glowing letters and fragmented words. Sentences unraveled around him like threads of fate, forming a tunnel of text.
He screamed as his body dissolved into lines of code, sucked into a vortex of pure language.
When he opened his eyes, he was lying on damp grass.
A sky stretched above him, impossibly vast and painted with twin suns. Rolling plains spread endlessly into the horizon, dotted with crystalline trees that shimmered like glass. The air was crisp, filled with the scent of wildflowers and ozone.
Kaito sat up, heart pounding. His clothes were different—gone was his wrinkled T-shirt and sweatpants. Instead, he wore a simple tunic of rough linen, patched and torn at the edges. His hands were calloused, his body leaner, rougher, like he had labored for years.
"…No way," he whispered.
This wasn't a dream.
This wasn't Japan.
This was his novel.
A notification flickered in his vision, like a holographic overlay.
[Welcome, Author.][You are now inside: The Broken Narrative.][Character Role: Background Villager #21.]
Kaito froze. "Wait. Background… villager?"
Another window popped up.
[Warning: The Protagonist has already been chosen.][Fate of Background Villager #21: To die on Day 3 during Goblin Raid.]
His stomach dropped. "You've got to be kidding me."
He scrambled to his feet, looking around. A small farming village lay in the distance, smoke curling from chimneys, fields of golden wheat swaying under the twin suns. It was peaceful, idyllic—until he remembered his own draft.
This village was doomed. In just three days, goblins would swarm the place, slaughtering nameless NPCs as fuel for the protagonist's growth.
He would be one of them.
"Okay, okay, think." Kaito clutched his head. His mind raced. He knew this story—he wrote it. Which meant he knew what was coming. He knew the characters, the twists, the betrayals.
But he also knew something else.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go. In his draft, Background Villager #21 didn't exist. None of this detail did. His story had never been this… real.
And if the world had filled in the blanks on its own, then that meant—
"—it's alive," Kaito whispered.
A rustle of footsteps broke his thoughts.
He turned to see a young girl, maybe twelve, with dirt-stained cheeks and braided brown hair. She wore patched overalls and carried a basket of apples. She frowned at him.
"Hey! You're the lazy villager, right? You're supposed to be working, not napping on the grass!"
Kaito blinked. "Lazy… villager?"
She huffed. "Yeah! That's what everyone calls you. All you do is sleep and skip chores. My mom says you'll probably be the first to die if monsters attack."
Her words struck like a knife. They weren't wrong. The script had already marked him.
"…What's your name?" he asked.
The girl tilted her head. "Elra. Why?"
Kaito swallowed hard. He remembered now—Elra. A nameless background girl in his notes, originally intended as cannon fodder during the goblin raid. She had never even reached the draft stage. And yet here she was, flesh and blood, glaring at him like he was real.
The world had filled in the gaps he left unfinished.
Kaito's hands trembled. "Because I think… I can save you."
Elra frowned in confusion. "Save me? From what?"
Before he could answer, another notification appeared in his vision.
[Warning: Attempting to alter Narrative Fate.][Consequence: Author Privileges May Corrupt.]
Kaito's blood ran cold. The system—the story—was warning him. If he tried to change what was written, there would be consequences.
But he clenched his fists.
He wasn't going to die as Background Villager #21. He wasn't going to let Elra, or anyone else, become mere stepping stones for a protagonist he no longer believed in.
For the first time in his life, Kaito Ren—the failed author—decided to rewrite destiny.
Even if it killed him.