The Author And Her Protagonist

Cheryl is a writers. Her writings are constantly inundated by readers. However, she has recently become too lethargic to continue writing. She is fatigued, but she also has nightmares that are practically identical to the scenario of her work. Cheryl complained about not being able to sleep until panda eye bags appeared on her 25-year-old face.

[Anyway, chapter updates are due tonight!!!]

Cheryl stared at the note, which her editor had filled with exclamation marks. She knew she’d been putting off sending out a new chapter from morning to evening.

In response to the note her editor had sent her, she typed a random sentence and submitted it.

[There will be a meteor shower tonight. So there will be no new chapter.]

Cheryl quickly closed the conversation window and returned to the online gaming interface. She noticed that the event timeout was about to expire. Cheryl shifted her avatar, getting ready to climb the ranks.

The light went out just as her fingers were about to contact the mouse. The unexpected darkness caught Cheryl off guard. She moved her weight slightly in order to reach the phone in the desk drawer.

She quickly turned on the flashlight after obtaining her phone.

Cheryl no longer felt compelled to stay up late once the electricity went off. She entered the room and climbed into bed using the flashlight on her phone. Cheryl fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, possibly due to tiredness.

She had no idea that a meteor shower was taking place outside. However, what can be seen in the night sky are sparks that look like lovely fireworks.

—Content bel0ngs to Nôvel(D)r/a/ma.Org.

Iron boots’ heavy footsteps reverberated across the room. Aside from footfall, there was the sound of metal being dragged over the floor, which added to the terror.

Cheryl couldn’t help but run between the dark alleys as the terrifying footsteps pursued her.

The young lady dashed as quickly as she could. Occasionally, tripping over strewn things or decomposing human bodies. Cheryl’s leg was bruised and blistered as a result of the incident. As she runs, the pain intensifies.

She reached the end of the corridor. There is no longer any hope. There was no option but to remain in the room. She stepped carefully as she unlocked a neighbouring door at random. It was tough due of the lack of light. She moved her hands around to sense what was going on around him. Cheryl was disappointed to find that the room she entered was vacant. There was nothing there but the old table and chairs.

The sound of footsteps approaching her became louder. Cheryl gave up since she couldn’t run any longer. Her frail frame dropped to the ground just below the enormous, tightly shut window. In a pitiful state, curled up in a corner. It was pouring heavily outside. One after the other, lightning struck. She saw there were multiple dead in the room from her vantage point. She even walked through their bloody pool. Cheryl tried not to scream by covering her lips. After all, she hadn’t seen anything like it before. Because this location is a magnificent palace. Overnight, it turned into a slaughterhouse. The sight of it would make everyone shiver.

Cheryl’s heart raced as she realized the footsteps were leading to the room she was hiding in.

Then his silhouette emerged from the shadows.

A flash of lightning would occasionally allow Cheryl to see the face of the devil who had slain the people in the palace. The man had a big scar that covered practically his entire face. The man’s visage was filled with nothing but venom. He proceeded towards the huddled Cheryl, stepping on body parts and a pool of blood.

Cheryl felt herself shrinking as the man became bigger and taller in front of her. Cheryl hurriedly opened her mouth, as if pleading.

The man raised his sword before Cheryl could say anything. Cheryl felt a stinging pain in her neck after one blow of his bloody blade. She went down. Her eyes beheld her own headless body reclining against the wall.

—

“Ah.” Cheryl awoke with a strong choking. Sweat dripped from her brow in beads. Her breathing became labored, and her heart continued to race.

Cheryl’s eyes widened as she examined the area. When she discovered she was still in bed, she felt relieved.

“Oh, no, there’s that dream again! That nightmare is definitely bothering me.” Cheryl grumbled as she patted her chest.

With her sleeve, the girl wiped the sweat off her brow. She rose from her bed and flung open the window. The fresh air helped her to unwind once more.

Cheryl’s vision was filled with vibrant flowers. The girl’s brow wrinkled. She was perplexed.

How can there be a flower garden in front of her window if she lives on the 10th floor?

Cheryl examined her own palm. She distinctly remembered wearing a short-sleeved nightgown the night before. So, where did this faded yellow long sleeve come from?

But the flowers and sleeves aren’t the only differences. The room in which she was standing was likewise unique. Cheryl became concerned at this moment. She dashed to the bedside cupboard to retrieve her phone, which had been left there. But there was no longer any small cupboard.

Cheryl is frightened. Her sensible side told her that she hadn’t actually woken up and was still dreaming. Cheryl put out her hand and squeezed her face with all her might, agreeing with her thoughts.

Cheryl hissed loudly. The pressure on the cheek caused excruciating pain.

“What the hell is going on?”

Cheryl had inquired. Cheryl muttered under her breath, biting her index finger. The girl paced around the mostly empty room. She attempted to jog her lethargic mind. While glancing around the room, she tried to recall how she had ended here in this unusual environment. Cheryl gradually sensed a sense of familiarity.

“Just a moment. Why do I have the impression that I am familiar with this location?” Cheryl scratched her chin, posing as she considered something.

This is a small space. There is one scrap metal bed, one wardrobe, one chair, and an extremely old dressing table in there. Cheryl would be unfamiliar if it was all she knew. However, the picture on the headboard wall was the same one she used to describe the room of Princess Claudia, one of the characters in her story.

Cheryl was surprised by what she discovered. She dashed over to her dressing table. She could notice her appearance even if the mirror wasn’t particularly clear. Her expression remained unchanged. However, she was dressed in what appeared to be medieval attire.

Her suspicions have now been proven, and she has transmigrated into the realm of the novel she authored.

The plot came back to her. Princess Claudia, along with the rest of the royal family, will be slain very soon.

Cheryl felt compelled to cry because of her bad luck.

***