Few hours later, on the same morning.
Dariush is in the library, sitting on a luxurious chair. There is a book in his hand; his other arm rests on the armrest, and his legs are crossed.
Sunlight is casting onto Dariush's upper body from a big pentagon window above the library, making his black hair sparkle slightly and his pink pupils glisten faintly. His hair isn't too messy or too neat, but still looks flawless. His clothes are a black luxurious attire, mixed with subtle gold accessories and such.
Dariush's thoughts: These days... I feel like something is wrong. Someone or something is watching me... (He tilts his face up, looking directly at where you are seeing him... You, the reader, where you are looking at him and reading this novel.)
Dariush looks down at the book in his hand. Then he continues to think... or something like that: I don't know what it is or who it is... Or how many there are. But I think... They are smirking at me now.
His expression darkens slightly, and he continues to think, or something like that: I don't like it. I hate this feeling of being watched. But if they are looking at me... Then I will show them what they are looking at. Or perhaps I should just let it be.
Dariush is now talking to the reader... to you: "Now I am reading this book. This book is about Tetramor. Where I don't even understand myself... I don't know if you understand it or not. But this is where I am: World 99... the cold side of Tetramor. Time in Tetramor is very weird... very weird. One day here is equal to one week on Earth, in my or your real world. I don't know what world you are from, but I am an Iranian man from a globe called Earth."
He takes a deep yet shaky breath and says to you (the reader): "I fucking hate you. I fucking hate where I am now. I feel like I am in literal hell. I don't like anything about you or any of you guys. And I hate the man or woman who brought me here."
Author: HEYYYYY! I saved his damn life... kinda... Just don't mind him... He's annoyed... or something like that. Now back to the moment.
Dariush felt like world time stopped as he talked to you (the reader). Then he looks around, narrowing his eyes for a moment suspiciously. Then he growls lowly: "I hate it." (He mutters to himself with pure hate.)
He looks down at the book again and continues reading. He thinks: I should read about Phase. I need to know what it really is.
He flips the book to another page, then his eyes widen with pure horror and anger as he sees nothing but a word... "Not now. You will understand what Phase is later."
He shuts the book with unnecessary force; its sound echoes through the library. His grip on the book tightens slightly, and his hand on the book trembles slightly. His hand on the armrest grips it tightly. His legs are no longer crossed and now bounce rapidly.
His expression is pure anger, and he bites his lips hard—but not enough to draw blood. Then he thinks, talking directly to me and you (reader and author): I hate you. I hate all of you. (He chants it in his mind ten times.)
Then something dings in his mind. A word echoes in his mind: "Calm down. You need to be calm."
Author: It was me who said it. And he knows it.
Dariush thinks, now talking to me directly: Okay... I will be calm. But you need to let me do what I want. Understood?
Then another word echoes in his mind: "Sorry... But I am the author..."
Dariush shivers at my word. Then he takes several deep breaths. Now thinking to himself—but you (reader) can still hear it because I want that: I was dumb... so dumb. He can't stop it. If he stops, it's my life that is going to stop... And I don't want that. I don't know what is going on, but clearly I need to be careful with my words... More importantly, I need to get used to this... And even more important is that I don't think I can act obedient... Because he is the author. (He looks and sounds so annoyed. Even I, the author, can feel his annoyance as I write it.)
Another word echoes in his mind: "Yes. I can hear and see everything."
He clenches his jaw, biting his lips so hard that it draws blood. But it quickly heals because he is a vampire, obviously. And the blood vanishes somehow.
He puts the book on a nearby small table beside his chair. Then he looks at it in awe: I... don't think this one was there... (He thinks to himself.) Fuck... I need to get used to it clearly, but I can't.
Then he stands up elegantly. He starts walking out of the library. Now walking through the halls, thinking again: Fuck it. Fucking hell. Now everything I do looks absolutely elegant. I can't even stop being so elegant and flawless. But it's... also feels so real. So damn real. I just don't know... How strong is he... Or is he going to intervene in future events?
Another word echoes in his mind, this one more animated: "Honestly... no. But if I have to... yes."
Dariush mutters to himself: "I hate how much you make me helpless compared to you."
Author: I know how much he hates me, but he doesn't know how much I love him.
A few minutes later, he is outside the mansion. The air outside is cold, cloudy, yet pleasant. He is in the front yard of the mansion, which looks absolutely beautiful with some flowers. There is a big black gate at the end of the yard, leading toward Shiraz city. A large gazebo with white wood and white tables and chairs inside it is on the right side of the yard.
Dariush thinks to himself again: Fucking hell... This is absolutely beautiful, and I don't know how. This author... Perhaps he or she knows what they are doing. (He bites his lips again, this time in frustration and annoyance.)