The village felt unnaturally quiet after the enforcer's defeat. The once-hollow villagers now moved freely, their laughter and chatter replaced by murmurs of confusion. Mui sat on a tree stump near the edge of the clearing, staring at the quill in his hand.
"So... this thing doesn't always work the way I want," he muttered, more to himself than to Eileen.
"That's putting it lightly," she replied, crouching beside him. She'd taken a piece of bread from a grateful villager and was chewing on it thoughtfully. "You got lucky. The Script doesn't usually tolerate mistakes."
"Lucky?" Mui's voice rose. "I thought I was going to get crushed back there!"
Eileen shrugged. "You weren't, were you?"
"That's not comforting."
"Good. Comfort will get you killed in this world."
Mui sighed, his fingers brushing over the manuscript in his lap. "Okay, so let's get this straight. The Script controls everything, right? But I can rewrite parts of it?"
"Yes, but there are limits," Eileen said, finishing her bread. "Think of it like bending a branch. You can twist it one way, but push too hard, and it'll snap back—or break you instead."
"Great," Mui muttered. "What else should I know?"
Eileen stood, brushing crumbs off her hands. "I was waiting for you to ask. Pay attention, Reader. These are the rules of the Script."
She held up a finger. "Rule one: Be precise. Vague writing gives the Script room to twist your words. If you're not clear, things will go sideways fast."
Mui nodded, remembering how his first attempt to stop the enforcer had barely worked.
"Rule two," Eileen continued, "the quill isn't infinite. The more you use it, the weaker it gets—until it needs time to recharge. So, don't waste it on trivial things."
Mui glanced at the quill, noticing its glow had dimmed since the battle.
"And rule three," she said, her voice dropping slightly, "never rewrite yourself."
"What does that mean?" Mui asked.
"It means don't try to make yourself invincible, or rewrite your own fate," she said firmly. "The Script doesn't like cheats. It'll retaliate if you push too far."
Mui shuddered at the thought. "So, I'm supposed to just... use this thing sparingly, avoid messing up, and hope I don't die?"
Eileen grinned. "Now you're getting it."
The sound of footsteps interrupted their conversation. A villager approached—a middle-aged man with graying hair and a cautious smile.
"Excuse me," the man said, bowing slightly. "I don't know who you are, but thank you for saving us."
Mui stood awkwardly, not sure how to respond. "Uh, you're welcome?"
The man gestured toward the village. "Please, come with me. You must be tired after what you've done."
Eileen raised an eyebrow at Mui. "You want to take a break already?"
"I'd like to not collapse from exhaustion," he shot back.
"Fair enough."
The villagers led them to a small house at the edge of the clearing. Inside, Mui and Eileen were offered bowls of steaming stew. Mui dug in eagerly, grateful for the warmth and flavor.
As he ate, the man who'd greeted them sat across the table, his face etched with worry.
"This village has been trapped for as long as I can remember," the man began. "We were like puppets, repeating the same day over and over. But when you arrived, everything changed."
Mui glanced at Eileen, who nodded for him to keep listening.
"We're free now, but I fear it won't last," the man continued. "The forest around us... it's cursed. Anyone who tries to leave vanishes."
"Vanishes?" Mui asked, frowning.
The man nodded. "We've lost many brave souls who tried to escape. And now, with the enforcer gone, the forest seems angrier."
Eileen leaned back in her chair. "It's not the forest you should worry about. It's the Script. If this village is part of the story, then leaving it might trigger the next event."
Mui felt a sinking sensation in his chest. "So, what do we do?"
The man hesitated, then placed a small, intricately carved box on the table. "This was left behind by one of the vanished villagers. It has markings we don't understand, but maybe it can help you."
Mui opened the box, revealing a strange, glowing crystal surrounded by runes. As he touched it, a jolt of energy surged through him, and words appeared in the air before him:
"The Reader unlocks the next path."
Eileen leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "Looks like the Script is giving us a choice."
"What kind of choice?" Mui asked warily.
She pointed to the manuscript in his lap. "You decide what happens next. Do we stay and try to protect the village, or leave and follow the path?"
Mui looked between her, the glowing crystal, and the anxious villagers. Either option felt like a gamble.
"I'm supposed to decide for everyone?" he asked.
"That's what being a Reader means," Eileen said. "You write the story. You shape the world."
Mui gritted his teeth and picked up the quill. His hand hovered over the glowing air as he weighed his options.
Stay and defend the village, risking more enforcers? Or leave and face the unknown outside the forest?
He exhaled slowly and began to write.
End...