John looked at Prota’s sleeping face. She seemed calm despite everything that had just happened.

He, too, was unusually calm.

Death. He’d just killed two people today. Regardless of who they were or what ideals they held, they were technically people that he’d killed. But to him, they weren’t “people.” They were [Characters]. That would never change in John’s mind. Death was an emotional thing. It wasn’t like John didn’t value life. He’d choose to save if he could.

But if killing was the easier option, why not take it?

In so many stories, the lives of many were lost. It’s easy to forget that in every war, each person who dies is an individual and not just a statistic. A person with feelings and family. With people they love, people they leave behind.

But in a story, those loved ones will never see screen time. Their grief is never shown, so really, it just doesn’t exist. [Readers] easily cheer for the death of a hated [Character]. Some even get upset when the hero is too lenient.

“I would slaughter them,” they think. “That bitch should die.”

In real life, it’s not so simple. Killing another person isn’t so easy.

But in a [Story], things are different. A [Character] is a [Character]. If the readers don’t love them, their deaths are insignificant. A [Character] isn’t real.

Their deaths have no consequences.

Then, to John, this was especially the case. These people. They weren’t people. They were [Characters]. Ultimately, if they were to die, their deaths existed to advance the [Plot]. That’s what they existed for. And if he needed one of them, he could always [Reset] to bring them back.

So many [Characters], whose purpose is only to die. To evoke emotion from [Readers]. To traumatize a more important [Character] so that they can grow and please the [Readers] even more. John had no such plans of being the entertainment of others. So he killed, regardless of whoever it was, because he had no plans of making death something grand.

After all, how could he kill something that was never alive to begin with?

But if that was the case. If they really weren’t alive. Then why had he reacted so violently when Prota was about to be tortured? Why had he fought so hard for someone he’d just met when she’d been kidnapped? He knew he’d made the excuse that pain didn’t sit well with him, but still, by his logic, pain was as insignificant as death. Since none of them were real anyway.

So why did he care so much?

He was fully aware that his actions made death something that wasn’t impactful. His own death hadn’t been very emotional. If he’d been reading it from the viewpoint of a [Reader], he’d have scoffed and ignored it. His actions made things trivial. The fights he took part in, the conflicts he solved, they weren’t “entertaining.” They didn’t make for a “good story.”

Ultimately, he was aware that it made the story boring. He simply didn’t care. He, who was aware of what he wanted, had no intention to live for the pleasure of others. But what if he hadn’t known that there were others to please? Would life have more purpose? Or less?

“Hey. You seem rather deep in thought.”

Zero. The one being keeping him sane.

“Wanna talk?”

If John had told anyone about his situation, they would’ve called him crazy.

You can talk to a clone of yourself? And he knows everything about everyone? We need to get you to an institute, pronto.

And yet Zero was the closest thing to “real” for John.

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Thinking about your existence?”

“Please don’t put it that way.”

Zero laughed. A laugh that was real, a laugh that had heart behind it, that genuinely seemed joyful, unlike John’s laughs. It wasn’t that John didn’t laugh; he found things funny, but it was hard to feel “joyful.”

He envied Zero. Zero, who knew everything. Zero, who could laugh and feel happy.

“You know, that story you’re reading. It’s pretty good, isn’t it?”

John nodded. It was pretty good.

“It makes you feel. I remember reading that for the first time. Back on Earth. It really made me feel. I stayed up all night reading it. The tension. My heart raced, I laughed, I smiled, I yelled… call me crazy, but I was really involved.”

Zero sighed.

“That’s what a [Reader] is, John. You’re immersed in the world. You can’t touch it. Can’t change anything. But you’re there.”

Zero looked at John curiously.

“Most [Readers] would love to be in the world of a story. They want to touch it, because they can feel themselves in that story. That’s what makes a good story. It makes you feel something. Why do you think there’s so many stories about landing in a world of fantasy? It’s what people want. It makes them feel, well, alive.”

John remained silent.

“I understand your situation. But… look at this girl beside you. You cherish her. You protect her. And despite all your efforts not to feel, you do anyway. So… I know you can’t just change, but I’m telling you. John.”

“Pain is a feeling too.”

John nodded. Pain. Trauma. It was what made [Characters] grow. He was a [Character]. It would help him grow.

Did he want that?

“I’m… I know it’s a little different for you. But, if you can… try opening up to her. Because she’s an [Anomaly] too, you know. It’s possible you might not lose-”

“Don’t.”

John’s voice was sharp.

“Hope. Funny thing, isn’t it? But this [Story] isn’t that kind of [Story], right? Any hope that exists only exists for it to be taken away.”

All his life, he’d lived in hope, only for it to have been pulled away from him. He knew it. Hope existed to create despair. Just as hope couldn’t exist without despair, true despair stemmed from hope being taken away. And in John’s case…

“I don’t get happy endings. This story isn’t that kind of story. Not for me.”

But still. That little seed of doubt had been planted in him.

What if? What if he could stay with Prota?

Their relationship was so poorly written. They cared for each other so much, and yet not all that much had happened between the two for their relationship to be as close as it was. The whole story, in fact, wasn’t very well put together, if his actions were being recorded as a story in the first place. It was more like a tangle of ideas thrown together into a web of thoughts, somehow held together by random bullshit.

But that bullshit was what he had to live in. So it wasn’t impossible. For him to stay with Prota.

“Zero. It would’ve been better if you hadn’t said anything.”

He looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes. It was tiring. So tiring.

“Wanna hear an interesting story?”

John’s eyes remained closed, but he didn’t refuse.

“There was an old man. He lived in poverty. All he had to his name was a little hut, a son, and a magnificent horse. It was truly a great horse.”

“...you trying to sound wise and shit isn’t helping.”

“Shut up.”

Zero went on.

“Many came to him. They told him to sell the horse. But he refused. The horse was like a daughter to him.”

“He’s an idiot. He should just sell the horse.”

“Can you shut up and let me speak? I’m trying to sound deep here.”

“It’s hard to sound deep when I know you’re a dumbass.”

“You’re unbearable.”

“I’m you.”

“Agh, holy shit! Just shut up!”

Zero continued.

“One day, the horse ran away. The villagers came to him, laughing at him. They said he should’ve sold the horse. It would’ve sold for a lot of money. Now, he had nothing. He’d been cursed, they said. But the old man shook his head. ‘I do not know if it is a curse or a blessing. All I know is that the horse ran away.’ They all laughed at him, of course. It was clearly a curse. His horse could’ve been sold for a lot of money, and he could’ve lived comfortably, but now he had nothing.”

John yawned. “You gonna get on with it?”

“I’ll hit you. I really will.”

“My bad. Keep going.”

“However, another day, the horse came back, this time, with half a dozen horses, all equally great. With some training, they could be bred and the colts could be sold for much money. The villagers came back to the man, praising him for his insight. ‘It’s a blessing! You were right, old man! It was a blessing, not a curse!’ But the old man shook his head. ‘I do not know if it is a curse of a blessing. All I know is that my horse ran away, and now it is back with many more.’ Again, they laughed at him.”

“Then, the man’s only son broke his legs while training the horses. Now, the old man would have much more trouble living, since his son could not help him. Again, the villagers came back and laughed. It was a curse, not a blessing. The old man was right. But the old man shook his head. ‘I do not know if it is a curse of a blessing. All I know is that my son broke his legs.’ They laughed again.”

“Then, one day, war broke out. All men were conscripted. However, the man’s son was exempted because he was injured. The villagers came back, crying that he was right. His son would live when all the others would die. The man, fed up, yelled, ‘You people! You cannot make up your minds! I tell you, I do not know whether this is a curse or a blessing. All I know is what happened. You are so focused on one thing that you cannot see the next!’”

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John looked at Zero with a disappointed expression. “That… was extremely stupid.”

“It’s a fable. Deal with it. My point, John… is that you’re a puppet. Controlled by the [Plot].”

“Yeah, thanks a lot.”

“But… you’re also not a puppet. You’re a puppet who has the ability to move on its own. You have a singular string attached to you, tugging you in one direction, but it’s not like you can’t resist. John. Don’t you want to make your own happy ending?”

“What? You? You’re telling me that?” John laughed. “Those endings are boring and cliche, aren’t they? Is this a fairy tale, where everyone lives happily ever after? There’s no way I get that, Zero. I may be part [Writer], but I don’t have the power to rewrite the whole story. Isn’t that the whole point of this?”

Zero just sighed. “Fine. That’s all I had to say.”

He turned as if to leave, but then stopped. “Oh, and John?”

“If you’re going to care for Prota… take care of her well. Don’t half ass it.”

He disappeared without another word, leaving John to think in silence one more time.

A happy ending. Somehow, he knew.

It wasn’t for him. But he craved one badly. His [Story]. It would come to an end eventually, right? But when would that ending be? He’d lost his friends and family, but learned the truth. He’d been exiled from one world to find someone special in another.

He knew that his ending wasn’t a happy one.

And yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling.

That somehow, somewhere, there was a happily ever after waiting, just for him.

With that thought in his mind, he looked at Prota’s sleeping figure and poked her cheeks. She stirred a little, but didn’t wake up. Wouldn’t it be ok? Even if he didn’t get a happy ending… no, such a way of thinking was dangerous.

As always, he’d just deal with things as they came.

~~~

Prota woke up to find John sleeping on the couch. His hair was all messy, and it was clear that he’d stayed up late. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d messed up his sleep schedule, but she didn’t really want to deal with him turning into a nocturnal being.

She thought back to yesterday.

She didn’t know how to feel. It wasn’t the first time she’d risked a lot for John, but it was the first time she’d gone so far. Unlocking a new spell in the spur of the moment, on the brink of torture, exhausting herself to unconsciousness…

[Resets]. She was fully aware they existed. And yet there was some deep rooted feeling that she needed to keep John from harm. Even if he couldn’t die, she didn’t want to let him die anyways.

She was John’s protector, right? But ultimately, what was she trying to protect him from? Death? Pain? She remembered feeling that she had to protect him from himself, but how was she supposed to do something like that? In the first place, what did that even look like?

She didn’t know.

Now that she thought about it, Prota had never really known what her life was really for. She’d enjoyed a decent childhood, only for it to be ripped apart. Her sister taken, her parents killed, and her village abandoned. From that point on, it’d been nothing but a pure hell for a child barely able to fend for herself.

Not only had she had to live the life of a beggar, but she’d endured the constant torture that others inflicted on her. Hated, and for what? Despised, for what reason? Kicked on. Spat on. Shunned, chased, tortured. For a crime she’d never commited. For a life she’d never lived.

The world itself was against her.

She’d been thrown into that life for no apparent reason. She was just a child. A child who’d grown up in a loving family, only for it to be torn from her.

Her mind had been broken from that point on. It’d retracted into a shell, a protective barrier that blocked everything else out at the cost of sealing herself inside. She’d learned how to hide her emotion, how to block the feeling of pain, and how to lose herself. The broken pieces, held together by an invincible shield.

At that point, she’d become nothing more than a doll. A husk of a thing, reduced to eating and moving purely off of instinct. Focusing on nothing but survival.

She never stopped to think about it, though. She never questioned why life had been so unfair to her, why she’d been handed the circumstances she’d gone through, and had ultimately become a shell of a being.

There was no point in her life. She was just a thing that used up food and air. So John, who’d found her, was someone she couldn’t bear to let go of. He was her support. He reached out to her, and regardless of the original reason, he was her brother.

Her purpose.

As a result, she ultimately found herself caring more about John than herself. She didn’t care what happened to her, as long as John was ok.

She still suffered from that one year she’d lived in. She was afraid of people, of interactions. She found it hard to smile, to talk, to frown and cry, or to interact with anyone, really. She didn’t tell John, but she still had nightmares, and she still had a hard time understanding feelings.

Despite all that, she found that taking care of John was what helped her find peace the most. But here John was, telling her to take care of herself. So, in order to do what John wanted, she had to stop taking care of John. It made no sense.

In the end, would she ever be able to repay John? John, who was always helping her. Who, despite being weaker than her for the most part, still took care of her. He taught her, helped her, looked after her, despite receiving basically nothing in return. She felt like a burden. Deep down, she knew that John had the ability to do everything on his own, so wasn’t she just slowing him down?

She would continue to feel indebted to him. She continued to wonder what she could do for him. It was dark, but it was how she was able to keep going.

She looked at John and quietly got out of bed. She was in a hospital gown, but she had nothing to change into. John always gave her what she wanted to wear out of the pocket dimension, but she didn’t want to wake him up for something as trivial as that.

Taking her staff with her, she walked out of the room. She didn’t leave it behind now. She’d discovered the consequences of doing so the hard way. No one paid any attention to the small girl wandering the halls. No one noticed her leave the hospital. But as soon as she stepped out, she ran into a familiar face.

“Oh, Prota. How are you feeling?”

Fate. What were the chances of running into him here?

“I was coming to check up on you two, but it looks like you’re doing fine. How’s John?”

Prota froze up, as usual.

“I guess he’s ok, then.”

Fate seemed to know. That if John was suffering, Prota would’ve spoken up.

“You look like you have a lot on your mind. Want to talk?”

~~~

The two of them ended up walking into the forest. Fate kept a respectful distance from Prota, who felt a little uneasy. Despite the time they’d spent together, she still didn’t feel entirely comfortable around other people, especially without John. Even if it was Fate, it still felt a little awkward.

The sun blazed hot in the air, despite the fall weather. It was incredible, how quickly time had flown by. Had it really been so long since John had told her everything? Since she’d watched him die, only to find out that that wasn’t possible?

Of course, her understanding of time had been diluted by the many [Resets] she’d been through, but still. It was strange.

“Is there something wrong?” Fate said as he sat underneath the shade of a tree.

“...” Prota didn’t say anything.

“Well, I guess I should’ve seen this one coming. You feel like you’re not doing enough, right?”

Prota’s eyes widened. She was used to John stating her thoughts out loud, but… Fate?

“I was like that once.” Fate looked up into the sky. “I wanted to protect a lot of people. I wasn’t exactly in the best of states myself, but still… I wanted to protect them. I couldn’t, in the end, but still. I tried to do everything I could.”

Prota listened. What was Fate’s point?

“You have to understand. That no matter how hard you try, it’s impossible to do everything on your own. We’re not some kind of omnipotent gods. Something like that exists only in stories, after all.”

Prota couldn’t help but feel mildly amused. If only Fate knew the irony of what he was saying.

“But still. Isn’t it enough that we try to do all we can? Prota. You’re pushing yourself. You’re strong and talented. You can cast magic without chanting, you have a C rank mana core, you know at least five different kinds of magic… Really, you’re amazing.”

Fate didn’t point out that he was much more talented, but he was right. Prota was strong. Incredibly so, especially considering her age.

“But I don’t think that’s what John is looking for. That guy… he has such a weird expression. But it always changes when he’s talking to you. I don’t know if he realizes it himself, but he seems to brighten up around you. Even if it’s just a little bit.”

Fate wasn’t dense. He could see the emotions of others, understand what people were feeling. He was pointing something out that neither Prota nor John would’ve realized on their own.

“You two seem to have some kind of hard past. I won’t pry, but… maybe consider that your happiness is also John’s?”

Prota’s eyes widened again. Her happiness… was John’s? She’d been trying so hard to be strong, to protect John, that she’d forgotten the main point. John was strong. He couldn’t die. That was something Prota forgot, and would probably continue to forget.

But there was also the fact that she’d wanted to protect John from himself. That emotionless state. That look of despair. How did she forget? In the first place, she wanted John to be happy. The same way John wanted her to be happy.

A warm feeling began to enter her heart. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

The fear that John would abandon her. The fear that she wasn’t good enough. Ultimately, weren’t those pointless? John had said it himself. He wanted her to stay with him. She’d been trying so hard to stay with him that she hadn’t considered that he was trying hard to keep her with him.

She’d asked him if he’d abandon her once. He’d said he didn’t know. But for someone like John, wasn’t that infinitely better than him saying he’d abandon her?

She still didn’t understand the whole point of fiction and reality. She didn’t get why John acted the way he did. She would continue to sacrifice herself for John. But if she did so to the point where she would hurt herself, then wouldn’t that hurt John, too?

“I’m not saying to prioritize,” Fate said, looking back down.

His eyes took on a distant look. “There were people I wanted to take care of once. And I tried. But you know what’s funny? The reason I ended up losing them all wasn’t necessarily because I wasn’t good enough. It’s because in the end, I didn’t take care of myself well enough.”

He closed his eyes. “I didn’t think about them. I was so worried about them that they were worried about me. And that led to our deaths. Prota. You can’t just do everything on your own. You have to consider how your actions would make others feel. Is that really what John would want? To see you suffer for his sake. I told you already, that you should take care of yourself. Do you understand now?”

He opened his eyes and turned to Prota, determination blazing in them.

“I won’t make the same mistake. I’ll protect the people I love.”

He turned to look at Prota in the eyes. “It’s the same for you, right?”

Protecting those she loved… right. John didn’t want her to suffer.

“Hey, Prota. Don’t… don’t do something like that again, ok? You can’t do that. You can’t…”

The pain in his voice. The honestly. The pleading. She didn’t want to see John looking like that again. She nodded slowly.

“...yes. I’ll… I’ll protect them.”