Now, you might be wondering why I’ve been executing a plan for several chapters without monologuing about the details, despite my apparent love of listening to my own voice.

There is a simple answer to that question—the Unspoken Plan Guarantee.

Many authors and some readers will have heard of this concept before. The Unspoken Plan Guarantee is a storytelling concept that says ‘if a plan is thoroughly detailed to the audience beforehand, it’s likely that something will go wrong with it. Conversely, if the details of the plan are kept secret from the audience, things usually go well.’ The primary idea behind this approach is to keep the audience engaged and surprised. If a plan is outlined in full detail and then executed without a problem, readers usually call that kind of story ‘predictable’ and ‘boring’.

For example, picture a heist movie where the robbers outline their meticulous strategy to crack the vault. You sit there, munching on your popcorn, waiting for the inevitable hitch in the plan because, let’s face it, you know it’s coming. Whether it’s an alarm they didn’t account for or a security guard coming back from lunch early—something is bound to trip them up. If the heist went off without any problems, wouldn’t you feel cheated? The thrill lies in the surprise, the suspense of not knowing how it will pan out, and, in some movies, the cars exploding for no explicable reason.

On the other side, consider the movies where the hero, usually a maverick type, keeps their plan close to their chest. You’re on the edge of your seat, unsure of what they’re about to pull off, and when they do, it’s typically brilliant, unforeseen, and undeniably satisfying. That’s the Unspoken Plan Guarantee in action.

I’m not keeping quiet for some dumb reason like entertaining the readers, though. I’m doing it because I’m in a world based on a web novel, and there is a non-zero chance that revealing my plan to the readers will make the world generate nonsensical enemies and threats to spice things up. I’d like you to accept my silence for now and spare me the annoyance, thank you very much.

While I was walking toward the cafeteria where I would meet up with Thaddeus, I mulled over the details of my plan. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place alright, but the image was starting to get a little convoluted. I hadn’t accounted for Agent-007 blowing up the counseling center, so things were moving a little faster than I would have liked.

However, as much as I’d like to reveal this meticulous strategy and explain why the current flow of events was annoying, I just monologued about the Unspoken Plan Guarantee, so I’ll save you the step-by-step walkthrough. Instead, I’ll skip ahead a bit to the important part—talking to an overpowered main character without incriminating myself now that I was working with the instigators.

The hustle and bustle of the cafeteria were as alive as ever, a constant flux of cadets flowing in and out, a symphony of clanging cutlery, chattering voices, and occasional laughter filling the air. Bright, cheerful sunlight streamed through the northern glass wall, casting the cafeteria in a pleasant afternoon glow.

The five-restaurant lineup was the ever-present constant. I claimed my standard pepperoni pizza and cola from Tiberi’s and navigated the maze of tables, searching for an empty spot. I found a shaded table near the southwest corner of the cafeteria and waited.

After a few minutes, Thaddeus came strolling over with a coffee in one hand and a plate of enchiladas and tacos in the other.

“Hey man, how’s it going?” he asked as he slid into the seat across from me.

“Not too bad,” I replied, eyeing his plate. “You’re having Mexican today? What happened to ‘pizza is life’?

He chuckled, unwrapping his cutlery. “Variety is the spice of life. Pizza is king but sometimes you need something a little different.”

“‘Variety’, eh?” Glancing at his characteristic white t-shirt, flannel button-up, and jeans. “Any chance you could apply that to your wardrobe?”

He shrugged. “It’s just easier this way. I tried to pick out some clothes once and Aug… Prince August told me off for having a fashion sense deader than an engineer.”

“...And you didn’t think to ask him for advice?” I asked. “I bet he’d be willing to help you out there.”

“Nah, he’s busy. He and I are close, but we don’t really get to hang like you and I do.”

“‘Busy’,” I repeated. “Busier than usual?”

He nodded, his expression turning slightly serious. “In a way. Speaking of which, you said you would look into things. Any developments?”

I took a sip of cola before answering, “Well, I’d say so, but I can’t prove it yet.”

“Meaning?”

“Remember our last discussion about the possibility of a pocket dimension being used? Well, during my investigations I’ve managed to prove my theory right, but I can’t get there myself, so I can’t prove it yet.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You have a source?”

There was a brief pause as I considered how best to phrase my response. “Let’s just say I’ve had a little help. There’s a person here. An informant, of sorts. Since he prefers to keep a low profile, I’ll keep his name out of this, but he’s good at getting the information I need.”

Thaddeus pursed his lips. “I get the need for secrecy, but right now your info is on the level of ‘rumors’. We need to talk to this guy and verify—”

“That’s not happening,” I interrupted.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

His eyes widened. “Aren’t we working together on this?”

“Not on this part. You’re a famous person affiliated with a government entity. People who deal in information are often cautious around people like you, regardless of whether they are doing anything illegal or not.”

“So, you’re saying you don’t trust me?”

I shook my head. “No; I’m saying my informant doesn’t trust you, and I need to work with my informant. Besides, I can easily just turn this around and ask ‘why don’t you trust me?’”

“That—”

I held a palm up. “See, but I didn’t ask that question and you don’t need to answer it. I was just pointing out that trust is a two-way street. These things take time.”

“...” He stared at me, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Getting back on track,” I continued, filling the silence. “I told you about the pocket dimension because I do have some actionable information.”

“Oh?” he raised an eyebrow.

“This part is still in progress, but I should be able to arrange a raid on the pocket dimension. I’ll let you know when I’ve got a date, but I need you to take care of reporting to Prince August, securing the necessary police forces, and any paperwork that needs to be done.”

He snorted. “So I’m the messenger this time? Sure, I can do that. But I think you forgot something.”

The corners of my lips tilted up. “What’s that?”

“This is a top-secret operation. There won’t be any police involved; I’ll take care of all the smugglers myself.”

“The two of us will,” I corrected.

He shook his head. “You’re not coming. You’re not ready for—”

“No,” I cut him off firmly, leveling a serious gaze at him. “Thaddeus, this isn’t just your fight. You asked me to save the world with you, and I refuse to sit on the sidelines as a cheerleader.”

“That’s not—”

“I’ve been training, haven’t I? You didn’t see the fight, but you know that I beat the Gnomonculus. And I’ve been part of this since the very beginning. I’ve been investigating and gathering information, and I’ll be the only person who can get you inside.”

He looked taken aback, his mouth opening and then closing as he tried to find words. For a moment, he stared at me, sizing me up. I met his gaze squarely. He absolutely had to take me with him for my plan to work out.

“You don’t trust me yet, I get it,” I conceded, leaning back in my chair. “You’re a lot stronger than me right now, and you have a lot more experience. But I don’t want to be a sidekick; I came to Horizon Academy because I want to be a Hero.”

His face softened. “And I don’t want to undermine that. It’s just that you’ve only been training for what, two weeks? I’m not sure I can protect you if something goes wrong.”

“That’s fine,” I assured him. “By the time this operation actually happens, I’ll have been training for three weeks or so.”

He blinked, the corners of his lips tilting up at my joke.

I rolled my eyes at him. “You’re acting like I’m asking you to babysit a toddler. Thaddeus, I can hold my own. You know that.”

He studied me for a moment, then sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know, but I’m also responsible for you in a way.”

“I understand the risks,” I said while leaning in closer. “But that’s what being a Hero is about, isn’t it? Taking risks to protect others?”

He paused and then slowly nodded. “Fine. You’re right. I trust you, I really do. But you have to promise me one thing.”

I raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“If things go south, you run. You don’t get to stay back and play the hero this time, got it?”

A slow smile stretched across my face. “Sure.”

He extended his hand across the table and we bumped fists.

“I’ll send you a time and date when I’ve got things lined up,” I said. “You take care of everything you need to on your end.”

“Sure thing,” he replied while taking the last sip of his coffee.

We both sat in silence for a moment, the bustling noise of the cafeteria creating a strange contrast to the gravity of our conversation.

With this stage of the plan basically complete, a mixture of adrenaline and trepidation coursed through my veins. With every person I got involved with, the stakes were raised and the risks… well, they were getting too stressful to count. Yet, as I thought about it, I realized I wouldn’t have it any other way. This was the path I chose. It probably would have been easier for me to try and be a side character, leading events from the shadows, but that’s not the kind of person I want to be.

You see, my biggest pet peeve that recurs in both stories and real life is ‘lack of compensation’. I mean, picture this—a character pulls off something insanely cool like ‘saving the whole damn world’ and then nobody gets to know about it. Seriously? If nobody knows about it, then what’s the point? You might as well let someone else do it and suffer through the injustice.

It’s like working a job with no pay or recognition—who does that? I hope you respect yourself enough to answer ‘no’ and demand compensation in those situations. To me, it’s non-negotiable. If I do something cool, people have to know about it. They have to realize that I’m cool for doing it. It’s the first, and perhaps the most important rule in the Gospel of KittenSniper, a philosophy I just invented to add credibility to my claim.

I finished my last slice of pizza and guzzled down the rest of my cola, my eyes scanning the bustling cafeteria one more time. The cacophony of chatter, laughter, and clanging cutlery seemed to hold an air of gravity. They were all simply characters in a story. My story. Yet, they bustled around, oblivious, lost in their own dramas.

‘The Gospel of KittenSniper, eh?’

A whimsical facade.

Thaddeus finished his food and left. He was the main character and he had to play his role to perfection.

As for me? I was stuck in a paradox of my own creation.

The puppet master and the puppet.

Perhaps it was a consequence of me being both the author and a character in this new version of my story. As an author, lives have always dangled from the strings of my words, but it felt different experiencing the story as a character myself. It was surprisingly funny if I’m being honest. I would have expected to be a little more traumatized by death, destruction, and living through life-threatening battles, but…

I took a deep breath and an uncanny serenity wrapped around me. It was like how a hurricane is calm near the center of the storm. Such was the beautiful irony of being a writer: I could script a cataclysmic apocalypse and still sleep peacefully through the night.

‘Is this part of my [Author] class?’ I wondered. ‘Or was I already this way before?’

I didn’t know the answer to that question.

And honestly? I didn’t really care. It was useful not having to deal with those kinds of trauma.

Cleaning up my plate and tossing the empty cola bottle into a nearby garbage can, I made my way back to my dorm. As I walked, I forcefully shifted my mind from monologue-mode back to the mundane. Even in the high-stakes game of Heroes and apocalypses, life’s mundane tasks still needed doing. Before I continued with my grand plot, I had to take care of a few homework assignments first.

“What was the prompt on that essay, again?” I muttered to myself as I walked.

I pulled out my phone and checked the assignment.

“Assignment 1: The Ethical Quandaries of Resurrecting Your Deceased Pet: A Practical Guide to Responsible Pet Necromancy.”

I sighed. ‘Why did I sign up for that class?’