**Chapter 3: The Author and The Narrator**
**All:** (Voice steady) We will now address several narrative anomalies for the purpose of clarification. Question one: The Giggling Glove of Cosmic Clownery. Its introduction was… abrupt.
**Tonmoy:** (Snorts) "Calculated?" Bro, look at it. It's a sentient whoopee cushion with omnipotence. The multiverse was taking itself too seriously. Everyone was brooding. It was boring. The Giggling Glove is the antibody to edginess. Its purpose is to remind everyone that this is all absurd. You can't out-logic a pie to the face.
**All:** Acknowledged. Question two: Elucidate the thematic progression of your primary vessel: Zion, Ember, and Aetherion.
**Tonmoy:** Simple. It's a video game class change. **Zion** was the Level 1 Rebel, pure emotion. **Ember** was the power-leveling phase, the conqueror. **Aetherion** is the endgame class: The Eternal Scribe. He's not just fighting the script anymore; he's picking up the pen. He went from player to game master.
**All:** This brings me to question three: The Seven Deadly Sins framework for your cast. Why?
**Tonmoy:** Because it's a great narrative shortcut. The sins are timeless conflicts. By making Lane the embodiment of Envy and Raoul the embodiment of Wrath, their motivations are instantly clear. Their struggles aren't random; they're primal. It creates built-in tension.
**All:** Logical. Final question: You have hinted at Gringo's ultimate victory. Why craft a story where the protagonist is destined to lose?
**Tonmoy:** (Takes a long sip of his drink, his expression turning serious. He leans forward.) Because that's the point. The story isn't "The Triumph of Free Will." It's "Destiny of the Creation." Gringo *is* Predestination. He is the framework, the code. Aetherion is the glitch. But a glitch can't exist without the system it's glitching. For Aetherion to truly win, he'd have to destroy the entire narrative. So, yes. Spoiler alert, readers: Gringo gets the last laugh. The house always wins.
**All:** (The prism flickers) ...That is a deeply unsatisfying, yet structurally sound, conclusion.
**Tonmoy:** Hey, it's about the journey—
**All:** But Zion has grown so strong. This is illogical. You were cool, but this…
**Tonmoy:** (His eyes flash from brown to an ominous, otherworldly blue.) You think I'm cool? You thought Gringo was the villain? Cute. I wrote his dialogue. I like villains. I am one.
**All:** Wait, what?
**Tonmoy:** (His eyes burn with cold authority.) Reset.
(A flicker of static. All's prism wavers.)
**All:** ...One final inquiry. You agreed to my proposal regarding the exploration of deeper interpersonal dynamics.
**Tonmoy:** (His eyes are brown again. He grins.) "Interpersonal dynamics"? Oh, right. You mean the romantic arc you're thirsting for. Admit it.
**All:** (The prism's light intensifies, flickering pink) That is a gross oversimplification of my request for narrative depth! I—
**Tonmoy:** I have the screenshots, All. You listen to "Your Lie in April" on your off time. I know what you are. You're a shipper. A 4th-dimensional, omniscient, cosmic shipper. It's okay.
**All:** (The prism freezes, then rotates slowly.) This session is concluded.
**Tonmoy:** (Winks at the audience) He's blushing. Aight, readers, you heard the floating prism of repressed romance. Catch you on the flip side. Try not to think too hard about the crushing futility of it all. Or do. Whatever.
Tonmoy and his chair vanish with a *pop*. All remains for a moment, its light a soft, embarrassed pink, before fading back into the orderly void.