Alright, let's me tell you something - my author is a loser. Like, a grade-A certified lame-ahh guy. He's the kind of guy who orders pizza at 3 a.m. while binging "how to write novels" tutorials on YouTube. Yeah, THAT guy. And guess what? He decided I'd be the protagonist of his first-ever story. Lucky me, not?

Now, let me be real with you: this dude has NO IDEA what he's doing. Like, I'm pretty sure he Googled "how to make a harem protagonist relatable" before writing this. I mean, come on, bro. Put some effort into it. At least give me some edgy backstory or, I don't know, make me super rich or ridiculously OP? or make me a Playboy with a 100 Women? Nope. Naka. Just a regular guy living in a painfully average world.

But here's where things get spicy—I KNOW he's writing me. Yeah, I can hear his thoughts, feel his hesitation every time he hits backspace, and let me tell you, it's wild. One second, he's like, "Oh, let's make this heartfelt and emotional," and the next, he's all, "What if a ninja girl from 1000 years ago falls from the sky?" Make up your mind, man!

And you know what's worse? He's basically my god. Every awkward thing I say, every time I trip over thin air, every weirdly specific harem situation—it's all his doing. If he wakes up one day in a bad mood, I'm doomed. What if he suddenly decides, "Eh, let's kill him off for drama"? Or worse, makes me confess my love in a crowded classroom only to get rejected. Dude, I have pride! (Okay, not much, but still.)

But, I guess… in a messed-up way, I kind of owe him. Without him, I wouldn't even exist. Sure, he's a chaotic idiot with a god complex, but he's MY chaotic idiot with a god complex. And hey, maybe this journey won't suck. Maybe he'll surprise me. Or maybe he'll just write himself into the story as some cringe self-insert character and ruin everything. I'm not holding my breath.

Anyway, dear reader, you're here now. And honestly, I don't know what to tell you. Are you brave or just really bored? Either way, welcome to my world—a chaotic dumpster fire where anything can happen because my author has the attention span of a goldfish.

So buckle up. Things are about to get weird. Probably cringy. Maybe even fun. Who knows? Not me. Definitely not him. Let's just hope he doesn't abandon this novel halfway through like his gym membership.

Oh, and one last thing—if you hate this story, take it easy on him, okay? He's new to this. But if you like it? Then keep reading, because honestly, your attention is the only thing keeping both of us alive right now.

Let's do this.