After reading those words, my mind blanked out for a second, as it was a direct message to me from the person or thing who sent this book. And I didn't know how to feel about it.
There was also a single word in the sentence, that was written in an indecipherable language that I had never seen before, which creeped me out even further.
I decided not to think about it too much, since my head was already fried from what I learned earlier. And the only thing I wanted to do at that moment, was to go to bed and hope that I would wake up the next day, realising that it was all just a dream.
But who would've thought that when I woke up, I would be transported to this world just like the novel had predicted, and I would become a high school student in this world.
I guess I really have to follow what the novel told me to do, if I want to find a way back home.
Normally, I would've been pissed if I was dragged into a situation without any prior knowledge, since it gave me the feeling of my life being in the hands of someone else once again, which I absolutely abhor.
But after hearing that I could wish for anything I wanted after completing the mission, I was more or less satisfied, as there was something I really wanted, that couldn't be accomplished no matter what I did in the previous world.
And I don't think that whoever is supposed to fulfill my wish would deny, or wouldn't be able to accomplish it; as someone who can predict my future, know my thoughts and secrets, and transport me to this strange world, must be a godly figure with heavenly abilities.
Who knows? He, she or it, might actually be God themselves.
But if it really is God, I don't know why they would want me to be the protagonist of this story, and have some fun with some 'demi-girls'.
Is this what they meant by God's plans, which cannot be fathomed by his worshippers?
Well, in any case, I was chosen to be the protagonist of this story, for god knows what reason, and there's really no use in thinking about the specific reason.
I already know that my sister and parents will be safe while I'm gone, since the novel has already hinted that towards me, in the story.
It even mentioned to the protagonist of the story, who is indirectly me, that it would create a situation where my family wouldn't have to worry about me for the time being, so there should be no problem back at home.
Although I feel sad that I won't be able to see my sister and parents for a while, I still have to finish this story given to me, as I don't exactly have an option to withdraw from it.
And most importantly, I want that reward, as what I can do with it, is extremely important to me.
So stay safe, adorable little sister of mine.
Your big brother will be back soon, with a win in his bag.
•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°
Now that I know my situation and what to do, I should probably open this book and check it out, to see if there are any changes to it from what I saw last night.
I should probably stop calling it the 'book' or 'novel' when referring to what I read last night, as what it was, is more along the lines of a 'guide' to make my own story in this world.
The reason I say that I'm making my own story, isn't simply because of the last line, I read in the guide book. But because of what is in this book, that I have in my hands right now.
Flip~ Flip~
I opened the book and flipped through the pages, and just like I thought, I saw that the book was mostly blank, with only the first fifty or so pages filled.
What was on those filled pages, were the events that took place from when my sister told me about the book, all the way up to when I fell asleep last night, which was written from my perspective.
From then on, the story didn't follow what I read last night, after the protagonist was transported to this world.
But the novel was actually writing itself from my perspective; from the moment I opened my eyes in this classroom, to the present, where I'm currently checking the book out.
The first words, in the newest chapter of the novel, after I fell asleep, are literally:
'A classroom that I've never been in before, classmates whose faces I've never seen off, and the fact that I'm even in a high school classroom filled with school kids, when I've never gone to school for a day of my life.'
,which was the first thing I thought to myself, after looking around the classroom I was in.
The words were just emerging from the pages, as if there was some ghost writing on them that I couldn't see. Even now, the novel was writing down my thoughts, as if it had iitsown transcripter mode; which allowed it to access all my senses, thoughts, and feelings. And was jotting it down onto the rest of the pages that hadn't been filled in yet.
The thought I had just now about the novel having a transcripter mode, was also written down the moment I thought about it. And so was what I was thinking about now, which made me feel naked and vulnerable, as all my thoughts and actions were laid bare.
The worst part was that, it was exactly like what I would've written down, if I were to write down what was happening at this moment from my point of view.
This was the same as me, writing a very detailed diary/story about my life, in a very unprofessional manner.
If there was an actual narrator or writer who was writing my story, then there would actually be proper vocabulary and beautifully described scenarios being written in this novel.
But because it was based on my thoughts, and was along the lines of, what I would write if I needed to write a book; the actual prose lacked any significant vocabulary, was very crass, and was the bare minimum of writing skills, a normal person with no special talent in writing would possess.
I will proudly admit, with no humility, that I'm a man who excels in many fields; way more than anyone should ever excel in—because of who I am.
But sadly, writing isn't one of the things I'm proficient in, which is quite embarrassing, since I feel like I'm losing face to the person who is reading this now.
And yes, I forgot to mention this.
If there's a book that's writing my life, like it's a story, then there's definitely someone or something reading it, which could be the mysterious existence who created this book, or even my own sister who could have found a version of this book, on my empty bed.
This is why I've been asking questions and explaining certain things in my mind like a madman, knowing that someone out there is reading this in the present, future, or even the past, in some bizarre way.
At this point, I believe that anything is possible.