Ethan

You wrote because you loved it. Ever since you were a child, you'd been making up stories and clumsily writing them down.

Now you're 24 and you've already written three books. They've become popular, and you're proud of yourself for having fulfilled your dream.

You were currently working on your fourth book, but it was different from all the others. This book was special. Since you wrote fantasy, you often thought about your book before bed, imagining what your world would be like. Sometimes you even dreamed about it.

After a few months, you began to notice something was wrong. The text would sometimes change on its own and focus on the main villain.

One night, you were writing a chapter again, a wave of inspiration sweeping over you and you couldn't tear yourself away from the keyboard and the text before your eyes. It was already the climactic moment where the main characters fight and eventually defeat the villain, and you couldn't stop writing.

As you began writing the villain's defeat, the screen lit up brighter, and a hand emerged from the screen, reaching closer to the laptop. You blinked, and when you opened your eyes, your desktop wasn't in front of you. You were in a field. It was dark all around, because the sun had already set behind the horizon, and you were sitting on the cold ground.

You looked around and saw a man in black lying next to you, clutching your wrist, blood trickling from his stomach. His eyes were a bright blue, but at that moment they were slowly fading. And then you realized...

Ethan is the main villain of your book. You wrote him as a guy who wanted justice in the world above all else, but ultimately chose the dark side. You planned a bad ending for him, one where he would never have the chance to live a normal, good life.

“Help...” the man whispered quietly, desperately squeezing your wrist.

You couldn't help. It's almost the end of the book. He has to die...

But you can't leave him when he looks at you with those eyes. Ethan only realized at the very end that he'd chosen the wrong way to live. He clung to you because he wanted to live...