The Arrival of the Author

I was a writer. I had nothing else but my imagination, I've always read what it would be like to be transmigrated how they would live out their new lives and affect and live the story they wrote. I am no one. I was alone, everyone else was gone, I was an orphan, abandoned, but I survived through life and now I still feel empty after achieving success over the years. An Offer? A being appeared in front of me telling me that the next time after I finish a book I would die immediately. I was skeptical but still continued writing. Sacrifice Sure enough I did die, but I wrote my last book with that in mind. I'm screwed. No I am screwed, I created an entirely loose plot with plot holes since I thought everything was a joke and that I was hallucinating, I even made a damned Sequel and released it at the same time! Damn it.