Aldrich lay on the upper bunk bed, legs crossed, his thoughts drifting back to the past.
This world, he had always believed, was one that mirrored a novel.
After all, that's how it began, didn't it? Reading about this world in Arthdal Chronicles.
But he was wrong.
He knew that now.
Before, he had brushed aside any doubts.
The conversation with Saldrich however had opened his eyes in ways he had been blind to.
This world was not a novel.
Yes, it bore striking similarities to the world of Arthdal Chronicles, to the point where one would be easily tricked into believing it was the very world from the pages.
But it wasn't.
Novels were written from an author's perspective, controlling everything from the plot to the emotions of the characters, where every scene, every character's action, was guided by the hand of that author.
