Tap. Tap.
"Rose, it's been a while…"
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"How are things?"
Tap.
"Things are fine, Ethan…"
I stop.
The cursor blinks.
I stare at it for a good few seconds, as if waiting for it to do something for me. It doesn't.
"Fucking incredible," I mutter, rubbing my face. "I managed to turn a simple conversation into a massive case of digital diarrhea."
Silence.
The fan makes that slightly crooked noise, like it's tired of existing. I get it.
My name is Eli. Twenty-four years old. Tech support by day, fanfic writer by the dead of night. Not officially, of course. Officially I'm just another guy answering "Have you tried turning it off and on again?" while counting the minutes until I can leave.
But if you ask me for real…
"I'm a writer," I say under my breath, just to hear how it sounds.
It sounds kind of fake. Kind of rehearsed.
I ignore it.
The screen is still open in front of me. A blank document with a few painful lines. Fourth attempt this year. Four stories that started with energy and died in silence.
My own little private graveyard.
Funny… I like writing. I really do. It's not effort. It's not discipline. It's… automatic. Like breathing.
Like I already know what to do.
I stare at the text again.
"Or maybe I'm just repeating myself," I say.
The sentence comes out light, almost like a joke.
But something about it doesn't sit right.
For a second, really fast, a strange feeling hits me.
Like I've already told this story before.
Not something similar.
The exact same one.
I frown.
"Okay. That was weird."
I shake my head, pushing the thought away.
My room is still the same. Messy desk, energy drink cans, old monitor. Nothing worth noting.
I rest my chin on my hand, distracted.
I try to remember something random. School, maybe.
I remember the classroom. The blackboard. A teacher explaining something I clearly wasn't paying attention to.
But when I try to pull up the rest…
Faces.
Conversations.
Anything more vivid.
Nothing comes.
It's like trying to remember a dream after waking up.
I know it was there.
But I can't hold on to it.
"…Normal," I mutter, more out of habit than conviction.
The cursor keeps blinking.
I stare at it again.
For some reason, I suddenly feel like writing something different.
Not better.
Different.
Something that… doesn't feel made up.
Before I can make sense of it, my phone vibrates on the desk.
4:45 a.m.
Discord.
Server: Webnovel Radar – Only Good Stuff (or almost).
I let out a breath through my nose.
"If it's 'good stuff,' that's already a win."
I open the notification.
ADM É TOP in general:
"Read Kyõmei. 50 chapters in and it's already blowing up. It's been a while since I felt this."
"'Felt this'…" I repeat. "Classic."
Even so, I click.
Because, for some stupid reason…
I'm still hoping.
The page opens.
Kyõmei.
The name hits strangely.
Not like something new.
Like a half-formed memory.
I ignore it and scroll down to the synopsis.
Synopsis:
In a world where Resonance connects past, present, and future, few can hear its call.
The Zanin are those who answer.
But not every resonance guides.
Some… distort.
At the center of it all is Álvaro Drakin.
A boy who never knew how to deal with what he feels—and whose power seems to grow precisely when he loses control.
Some say he will be the greatest among the Zanin.
Some say he will be the mistake no one will be able to fix.
And somewhere beyond what can be seen…
something has already begun to watch.
I stay quiet.
"…Fuck."
It's not the idea.
It's not the world.
It's the feeling.
Like recognizing a song without remembering its name.
My finger scrolls on its own.
Chapter 1.
Then 2.
Then 3.
—
By the time I realize it, sunlight has already slipped into the room.
I close the laptop slowly.
My heart is racing.
But it's not just excitement.
It's… familiar.
I run my hand over my face.
"This isn't normal."
Silence.
I open a new document.
Cursor blinking. Clean.
Waiting.
I type:
Secret Insertion into Kyõmei – The Extra Who Refuses to Die
"Working title."
My fingers keep moving.
Eli Voss.
I stop.
The name came way too easily.
No effort.
Like I hadn't even chosen it.
I continue.
16 years old. Son of a Zanin master. Influential family.
I hesitate.
Younger sister.
My hand freezes.
For a second, I almost hear something.
A laugh.
Light.
Too quick to catch.
I stay perfectly still.
"…Okay."
I go back to typing, slower now.
Big house. People coming and going. Organized routine.
No problems.
I stop.
I look at the screen.
No problems.
Perfect.
The word sits there.
I stare at it.
Something about it… bothers me.
I can't say what.
It just doesn't feel… enough.
I look away, uncomfortable for no clear reason.
"It's just gonna be an extra," I mutter. "Nothing protagonist-level."
Just someone smart enough not to die.
I lean back in the chair, letting out a slow breath.
"Let's see if you can kill me…"
A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.
"…you goddamn webnovel."
Silence.
The cursor blinks.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
I keep staring.
And for one very short moment…
I get the impression it isn't waiting for me to write.
It's… answering.
I narrow my eyes.
"…Alright."
Maybe I need some sleep.
But even so…
I don't close the document.
Not this time.