Prologue
"Pathetic."
The word slipped from the black haired man's lips before he could stop it.
Not that he cared to.
He had finally caught up to the novel—the fifth arc, where the demons invaded. He had expected something grand. A satisfying climax. Anything that justified the hours he had spent reading.
But there was nothing.
The villain begged. The hero prevailed.
Disappointing.
"…Complete bullshit."
Leaning back in his chair, turning off his phone and reaching for a chip, the black haired man tossed it into his mouth. The author had been on hiatus for three months now. At this point, he doubted the next chapter would ever come out.
Even if it did… he wasn't sure he would bother reading it.
The writing had been terrible. It had started with promise – he could admit that – but somewhere along the way, it had collapsed into something predictable. Hollow.
He exhaled slowly.
There was one character in particular that stood out to him.
Ronan Ashbourne.
A noble of one of the four great families. A man with subpar talent, an unbearable personality, and no redeeming qualities to speak of.
A failure.
His role in the story was simple – serve as a reminder of how merciless the world was to the incompetent. A stepping stone for the protagonist's growth.
And yet…
For some reason, he found him interesting.
That was the strange part.
Out of all the characters, Ronan was the only one that held his attention. The only one he found himself thinking about.
A man with no talent. No destiny. No hidden power waiting to awaken.
So he fell.
He made a contract with demons, grasping at whatever he could… only to die a pitiful death.
But it didn't sit right with him.
That ending.
It felt… wrong.
"If you were going to fail anyway," he muttered under his breath, "you could've at least made it interesting."
A knock echoed from the door.
He sighed, pushing himself up from his seat. As he walked over, he paused briefly before opening it.
A towering figure stood on the other side.
Broad shoulders. Narrow face. A presence that made him feel small in comparison.
It was Spencer, one of his good friends.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The man's expression was heavy. Somber.
"You're late," he said, breaking the silence.
Spencer's brow twitched.
"I didn't think you'd notice."
"Of course I noticed."
"Since when?"
"You've been acting strange for days," he replied calmly. "I figured you found out. Not sure how, though."
Spencer glared.
"That's none of your business."
He shrugged.
"Thought so."
Stepping aside, he gestured lazily toward the interior.
"So? Are you going to stand there like an idiot, or are you coming in?"
The man – Spencer – said nothing as he stepped inside, his posture tense.
He took a seat across from him.
Silence settled between them.
"Are you just going to sit there," he said, "or are you going to say something?"
Spencer's eyes narrowed.
"Why did you do it?"
"Do what?" he asked, a faint smile forming.
Spencer's glare sharpened.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about. Why did you leak everything? The secrets. The lies. The accounts."
A pause.
"The data logs."
He raised a brow slightly.
So he knows that much.
Interesting.
"And who told you all this?" he asked. "You're not the type to figure this out on your own."
BANG!
Spencer's fist slammed against the table.
"I'm asking the questions."
His voice remained calm, despite the violence of the act.
Sighing, he answered.
"So you want to know why."
Spencer nodded.
"I thought we were your friends."
He hummed in thought.
"Classmates," he corrected. "We shared a few internships. That hardly qualifies."
Spencer's jaw tightened. His hand trembled slightly before he steadied it.
"Just answer me," Spencer said. "I've tried to understand it. Why ruin so many people? Why destroy reputations? I can't make sense of it."
He tilted his head slightly.
"You really want to know?"
Spencer's expression hardened.
"Yes."
A small pause before the black haired man spoke.
"I was curious."
Silence.
"What…?"
"I wanted to see what would happen."
…
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"No money?"
"No."
"No grudge?"
He shook his head.
It wasn't a lie.
Life had been unbearably dull. Nothing held his interest. Nothing felt… real. He had done it to satisfy his boredom, to satisfy the feeling of not belonging in this world.
Spencer's voice rose.
"Then why?!"
"There doesn't always have to be a reason."
"To hell with that!"
Spencer's arm swept across the table, sending everything crashing to the floor.
Then–
A glint of metal.
A knife.
The black haired man's eyes widened slightly.
That, he hadn't expected.
"What are you planning to do with that?" he asked.
"You know exactly what I'm going to do."
Spencer lunged forward, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him back against the sofa.
His breath hitched.
There was no resistance.
There couldn't be.
Spencer was larger. Stronger. Trained.
Not that it mattered.
He didn't try to fight.
Instead…
He smiled.
He didn't know why. Even he knew that in the face of death he would normally be panicking, but right now it felt like it didn't matter at all.
As if this was all meant to happen.
"Are you sure about this?" he rasped. "You'll be a criminal. I've got cameras everywhere."
Spencer's grip tightened.
"You think this is a joke?"
He didn't answer.
He simply stared at him.
Even now… there was no fear.
No panic.
"You're hesitating," he said. "You're not cut out for this."
His grin widened as Spencer's expression twisted.
"I'm not," Spencer admitted. "You're right. But I have to do this."
A pause.
"To stop what that man showed me."
"…Stop what?"
Confusion flickered across the black haired man's face.
But there was no answer.
Only a sudden warmth.
Then pain.
The blade sank into his neck.
Under normal circumstances, he would have questioned it. Spencer's words. His behavior. None of it added up.
But he didn't dwell on it.
Didn't care enough to.
As if something were meddling with his thoughts, forcing him to feel serene in the face of imminent danger.
As blood pooled beneath him, staining the floor, a single thought surfaced.
His life had been dull.
Empty.
At least he had done as he pleased.
And then…
Ronan Ashbourne.
For no clear reason, the name surfaced in his mind.
A meaningless side character. He showed up in an extremely small number of scenes, and he acted more like a plot device than a character.
Yet…
"…At least," he thought faintly, "this isn't as pathetic as his ending."
That was his final thought.
Then…
Darkness.
➜➜➜➜➜
[Host Found – System Initializing]