"This world will never be fair to those considered as trash. Han, you only have to survive in any possible way, even if it means taking a life."
Father always said that whenever I returned home after a hard day at the academy, with mom at the counter in our apartment's kitchen, fixing up dinner.
Amy and Jisoo would be by her side, helping out in whatever ways they could.
Jaren would return about four hours later, dirty, bruised, and with traces of blood on his clothes.
When mom asked, he always said not to worry, that he got into a fight with some kids from the other school.
But that was a lie. He was always out late, doing odd jobs and beating up anyone who called us pathetic wingless freaks.
And that was half true, we were freaks, and wingless too.
Since our flight abilities depended on the organs, bone structure, spinal fluids, and cells that most of us barely had.
Luckily for them, he left as soon as he graduated, but not without taking another life.
He was the black sheep until he left. Then, I took the title.
Not because of anything I did. Not because of the violence I caused.
But because everyone believed I was cursed, the reason why our family fell apart.
Could I blame them? Definitely not.
A while after Jaren left, mom got remarried to a rich noble. She died a month after the wedding.
She even changed her name before she went.
Father lost his sanity when she did.
Everyone blamed me, since I'd angrily told her before she left that she wouldn't find the happiness she once had here.
And she didn't. I heard she got depressed. Then she killed herself.
It didn't end there.
Jisoo got stabbed, school drama. Amy died with blood cancer we unfortunately didn't have the funds to treat.
Father followed. I was honestly glad about that, he was a deadbeat, useless, and only made things worse.
Being an orphan wasn't so bad, though, since the academy gave less privileged students a place to stay, free meals, and free tuition.
But the comfort I got from my sisters and mom never came back. Everything just felt… bland, until I met him.
Max Jordan. Golden boy. Top of the class. Loved by everyone.
Even me.
Not in that way, but still… he gave me something. A distraction, maybe.
We weren't supposed to get along. Jaren killed his brother. Impaled him during an argument. That should've made us enemies.
But Max never brought it up. Never hated me for it. I respected that. Envied it, even.
Sometimes, I wondered if Max was the main character of this world. He had the look. The charm. The luck. Everything fell into place for him.
Even the girl I liked.
He got adopted by a noble family.
And me?
I was barely passable in combat, half-decent with a bow, and cursed with a brain that predicted things a second before they happened. Not enough to stop them. Just enough to watch.
Sometimes, in my dreams, I became someone else. A man in a hoodie. Always writing.
He talked about killing someone, or people. Sometimes he was killed. Sometimes he watched from behind a screen as people begged him for tragedy, for twists, for pain.
I called him the Author.
Stupid, I know.
Even Jaren once told me...dead serious, that some author was writing our lives.
But if an author really was writing this, he sure had a sick sense of humor.
Because who kills off an entire family just to make the a character "grow"? We were living beings too.
"Hey, Han? Aren't you ordering?"
"....we have to get to the ceremony. I can't afford to miss it… I heard we might be posted to the Eastern Zone to serve at Hanzaki Palace."
"Han! Aren't you going to order?"
"....we have to make it to the ceremony. They're assigning us posts today....I heard there's a chance we'll serve at Hanzaki Palace!"
I forced a smile. That's all I could manage.
He dragged me along, chattering about something..I wasn't listening, because I was too far into my mind.
Did I mention I was an insomniac? No? Well, I am.
As we stepped onto the pavement, something changed.
A chill ran through my jaw. That weird, bone-grinding chill you get when you bite very wrong and your skull protests.
I froze.
Then multiple images began forming. Blood, bright light from a truck, the sky, darkness and max walking away.
Sensing something bad was going to happen, I slowed down.
"Max," I called, with a low voice as usual. "Slow down."
He didn't. "You're just nervous! Come on...we're almost late."
He said and smiled at me, then the chill returned, this time like shock.
Shit. Something was absolutely wrong. Blood. Darkness. Was someone going to get hit?
And just like that, Max let go of my wrist and hurried across the road, calling out to me to follow.
At least he had the decency to tell me to move after dragging me into the center of the street unprepared and in a daze.
And then...
SLAM.
Something hit me hard, even worse than a punch, it didn't hurt immediately, till I hit the ground.
Then silence, that followed as if the world just went off.
Then pain....so much agonizing pain, shot from my side to my brains and through my entire body.
My skull rang like a dying alarm. My lungs wouldn't take air, and my mouth filled with the taste of iron.
For some reason images began forming in my mind. They were blurred but fast, and words that came like headlines.
"It's all their fault."
"I'll kill them all."
"I'll make them pay."
And a face.
There was a guy smiling at his screen, typing fast.
Reading messages, replies, and comments.
He then whispered with a frown,
"Wipe out the family. They're useless now."
I saw him pause… before typing a reply.
"That seems alot."
A message popped back almost instantly.
"Author, that's a peak twist and revenge theme right there. You wouldn't want just the villain to survive while his brother is out there… the kid might be even worse."
Everything made sense.
I smiled through the pain. Blood was pouring from my mouth. My entire body throbbed with a kind of ache I couldn't even begin to describe.
But now… I remembered. Every single thing.
Life finally...finally showed me just how screwed up she really was.
Haha....I was shot seventeen years ago? Since I clearly lived Han's life
And now I'm going to die. Just like I wrote.
Tears rolled from the corners of my eyes. I'd say it was pathetic, but honestly, it was fitting.
I wrote the damn book. I followed their words. I shaped every chapter to make them happy. I broke my own characters just because the readers wanted "twists."
I bet they don't even know I'm dead.
They wouldn't understand what dying actually feels like. This is my second time, and I doubt I'll survive it again.
I raised my eyes to the sky.
And there he was, the protagonist of my story, staring down at me with that same cold, unreadable look.
Just as planned.
The sweet kid with a dark, hidden side. The one everyone rooted for.
He dragged his supposed friend...me into a busy road, fully aware he had a thick layer of plot armor wrapped around him like a bulletproof vest.
And then he let go. Right in the center of it all.
Gave me no time to react. No space to escape. Because he knew. He knew I didn't have quick reaction time.
I chuckled softly as the ringing in my ears finally faded into nothing.
Wait who said I have to die right here?
I didn't even finish the paragraph... hahaha...
Oh no, wait.....shit, my heart just gave out....