*In the realm of Hypocrites, I'm a card-carrying member.*
Bigfan11: "Your novel is the best novel I've read so far. I wish I could go back and relive the moment of reading it again."
Author: "Your words warm my heart, Big Fan."
'What a loser.'
Yesman8g: "I really enjoyed the world you described in the novel. GG."
Author: "Your support from my humble beginnings means the world to me."
'Get a life. Live your own world first, losers.'
Theghoulif3: "You are a fraud. You stole your novel's plot, characters, theme, everything from 'The Memorise of My life' novel. You are just another Swindler."
'This Bastard. Yeah, I stole it. What can you do, low-life?'
Author: "Mr. Ghoul. I've mentioned in many interviews that I grew up reading novels. They are my inspiration. I apologize if you found similarities to the novel you mentioned, but I assure you, I never steal ideas. I've worked hard to get here. Thank you for your support so far."
Reply: "What a fraud!"
'This piece of shit.'
"AHHHHH…"
A man unleashed a scream, ensconced behind the computer screen in a plush gaming chair, bathed in the glow of purple ambient LED lights, and surrounded by shelves brimming with figurines and collectibles.
The room was capacious enough for the person to fill two trucks, yet it was sparsely furnished with only his PC and laptop on his sides, a smattering of figurines, a sofa against the back wall adorned with portraits of novel posters titled, 'A Twisted Tale.'
Even in this minimalist room, the centerpiece is a sprawling, multi-monitor computer setup on a desk. One central monitor is bookended by two vertical monitors. Above the central monitor, a honeycomb of hexagonal light panels clings to the wall.
Directly before him, a neon sign that proclaims "GAME OVER" hangs on the wall, with what appears to be a PC tower mounted on the wall with a transparent side panel revealing the internal components bathed in LED lights. This tower also bears the moniker 'WILSON.'
Indeed, he christened his PC Wilson.
"You Pieces of Shits."
That man roared in vexation and fury, yet his fingers danced gently over the keyboards replying to comments.
For him, the PC is his lifeline. The sole entity that propelled him to his current stature. To immerse himself in video games, indulge in anime and devour novels, occasionally, and finally bask in tranquility, while reaping the rewards from his dream profession, 'Web Novel Writer.'
The man powered down his PC, swiveled around, and sauntered outside his gaming sanctuary.
He steps outside into the orange-hued sunlight, entranced by the spectacle of the setting sun from his fifteenth-floor apartment's panoramic windows. His opulent flat faces another majestic building, augmenting the view.
Inside, the room is embellished with a sleek white entertainment unit housing two large TVs, and illuminated by a long, horizontal recessed light. The floor is decked with light-colored wood, and furnished with dark bean bag chairs and a textured white rug, maintaining a minimalist yet luxurious aesthetic.
The man stood before the glass window and caught his own reflection - sleek black hair, brown eyes, and fair skin with a slender body clad in a red shirt and black shorts.
"RING!" "RING!"
His phone vibrated, he picked it up to see 'Editor' with a bull image on the screen. He answered the call with a click of his tongue. He knows why his editor is calling.
"Erik, why didn't you come to the fans-author meet…"
As soon as he picked up, a female voice vented her ire at the man, he recoiled his hand from his ears until his editor vented all her frustrations.
After enduring a few minutes, Erik responded in a serene tone, his voice resonating with bass,
" I'm busy playing my game. I don't meet people that I don't give a shit about. Tell those stupid fans. If they want to support me, go read my novel and send me their hard-earned money."
Erik disconnected his phone with a wide grin plastered on his face. Erik was quite irked after perusing his novel's comments but venting his anger on his editor was cathartic.
"RING!"
Erik glanced at his phone and noted his alarm went off, reminding him of the rendezvous he has tonight.
He swiftly changed into a red suit shimmering under the light. Donning a dazzling attire is one of the trademarks that he has whenever he ventures outside.
Erik took the lift and emerged outside donning his black shades and sauntering with one hand in his pant pocket, his red boots twinkling under the street light.
Erik raised his hand to hail a cab, his license was revoked due to drunk driving and he doesn't trust others to employ a chauffeur for his car. So he has been resorting to a cab for the last six months.
While he was waiting, he could sense everyone was ogling him. Not because of the radiant attire.
Everyone recognizes him, he is the number one Web novel writer, even people who usually don't read novels know him, as his novel was adapted to anime, manga, cartoons, TV Series, and some movies. Everyone knows the creator of 'A Twisted Tale.'
"Sir, can you sign us an autograph?"
Normally Erik disregards those voices, but those are female voices made Erik swivel to see a blonde woman and a brunette woman donning cocktail dresses holding a paper in their hands.
"Sure, why not, anything for my fans."
Erik removed his shades with a broad smile, grabbed the paper, and began to sign.
"Erik Hardin" "Erik Hardin"
"Erik, we went to your meet today, but you didn't come. We heard you were writing the last remaining chapters."
The blonde woman blurted in an excited tone, her hands were trembling at the prospect of meeting Erik.
The brunette woman chimed in," I heard you're planning to finish the novel in another fifty chapters. We are so excited for that. We can't figure out how it ends."
The blonde added with huge glistening eyes," Can you give us a teaser on how it concludes?"
Erik grinned, covering his mouth with his hand, and said,
"Why don't we discuss the novel's climax over a drink?"
Erik gazed at his towering abode he resides in and both women whispered among themselves and the blonde nervously remarked,
"It seems like you are heading somewhere. Are we encroaching on something important?"
The way they spoke and carried themselves suggested they were not average women; their tone carried a sense of pride, and their beautiful figures made Erik determined to do anything possible to bring them back to his flat.
"Pstt… It's nothing, I always have time for my fans."
Erik stood between both of the women and wrapped his arms around them and began to walk towards the building, they were being drawn along with Erik.
"Just one drink and a sneak peek into the story's ending." The brunette woman whispered to the other.
"LOOK OUT!"
A loud voice echoed behind Erik. Without having time to react, a bullet lodged itself in his back.
Erik collapsed on the ground face down, still with a smile when he smelled those women's perfume. Slowly his smile morphed into horror, as he couldn't even muster a scream like his mind went blank.
He was turned around to both of the women crying, a muscular man brandishing a gun stood before him, uttering, "Sorry."
Erik cursed his shooter under his breath, thinking,
'Then don't shoot me, bastard,' as he lay on the ground in pain.
The shooter glanced at Erik briefly before deciding to flee, spurred into action by the approaching sound of police sirens.
"ERIK!!" both women screamed, while the Blonde woman dialed an ambulance.
"ERIK!"
'Stop screaming already,' Erik muttered in his mind, a faint smile crossing his face as he counted down the time.
'In the first chapter of my novel, the MC also gets shot, right? Is this destiny? At least I could've scored with those chicks.'
In this dying moment, the blood flooded the pavement. People surrounded him, took out their phones and messaged that Erik Hardin has been shot.
Even when the phone's flash blinded him, people screamed for him. One thing going through his mind,
'Is my Wilson going to be okay?'
[End of Chapter]