Prologue [2]

[New Message: Hey Marek! Wanna hang out this weekend? There's this new movie where this cool Lizard battles a Gorilla, you know?]

"My charming colleague wants a date," Marek murmured, amused. Taking another sip, he replied.

[A fight between a lizard and a gorilla? I'm in.]

He accepted the invitation more out of boredom than genuine interest, not wanting his male coworkers to win over Karen's attention before he did. He aimed to be the first one.

It wasn't that Marek harbored any deep feelings for Karen, but she was pleasant company, undeniably beautiful, and he had nothing to lose by accepting her invitation.

[3 missed calls from Damian.]

"Damian, Damian... Damian?" Marek mused, racking his brain for the reason that name sounded familiar.

Damian had been his closest friend in high school.

[New Message: Hey, Marek. Some of us from high school are planning a reunion. It's more like a party. I know it's been ages and things have changed, but it'd be great to see you there. Let's catch up.]

"How awkward can you be in a text, Mr. Damian?" Marek muttered to himself as he scanned the details of the event's location and date.

The entire message seemed oddly phrased, adding to the discomfort.

"What a coincidence. Just as I was contemplating her rejection, an opportunity to see her arises again."

Marek's lips quirked into a small smile as he finished his drink. Tossing the can, it arced perfectly into the bin.

[Wrong number.]

With a flick of his finger, Marek blocked Damian's number, then tossed his phone onto the bed before making his way to his desk and firing up his computer.

Marek checked his emails, and as expected, he found several messages from Eden Entertainment, a renowned and highly popular studio known for producing hit video games that sold millions of copies within a short span of time.

Two years ago, they had reached out to him after stumbling upon his Character Sheets online, which he had shared on a platform dedicated to showcasing individual artistic works or short stories. Marek had started this endeavor on a whim, partly influenced by Edward's advice that visualizing his dreams—or rather, his fantasies—might offer some insight.

And indeed it did.

Astra. 77M Subscribers.

This was the outcome of his imaginative creations.

His characters had captured the hearts and minds of countless fans. Marek had become a sensation, his creations adored by legions of followers. Eden Entertainment took notice and approached him to develop a game based on his characters.

Initially hesitant, Marek eventually relented, enticed by the prospect of immense wealth and fame. However, he made sure to retain full ownership rights over his ancient characters and designed new ones for them. He also contributed to the game's storyboard albeit slightly, ensuring it stayed true to his vision. Now, copies of the game adorned his desk, coveted collector's items.

The game proved to be a massive success, with over 30 million copies sold within the first year alone. Encouraged by this triumph, Marek signed on for a sequel, introducing even more captivating characters. The unveiling of these new creations on his platform caused his subscriber count to skyrocket from 56 million to 77 million.

His audience adored everything about the characters: their artwork, their backstories, their compelling personalities. Marek's imaginative world had captured the imagination of millions.

Under the avatar and pseudonym of Astra, Marek achieved worldwide fame. Despite his desire to make a significant impact, he opted to remain anonymous. It wasn't because he despised fame; he wasn't that modest.

No, there was a deeper reason, one he struggled to articulate.

Evelyn.

An odd girl he had met in a children care center.

Her image would often flicker in his mind whenever he sensed a strange feeling of danger. For now, he trusted his instincts, which warned of an ominous future.

He couldn't pinpoint the time or reason for this foreboding feeling, but he sensed that something was amiss. The last thing he wanted was to be thrust into the spotlight, vulnerable and defenseless.

Humans were inherently malevolent beings, their history fraught with millennia of wars and suffering out of mainly pride and greed after all. Not that he was finding that despicable. You can be proud and greedy without being inherently evil.

In any case.

77 million subscribers.

It was just a number to Marek.

He didn't care about any of them.

No, the only things he cherished were the companions who had been with him since childhood.

They were, of course, his characters.

As Marek scrolled through his page, each character came to life in his mind's eye.

Marek wasn't a typical nerd who stumbled upon fantasy and became engrossed in it.

No, it was more like fiction fantasy had always been a part of him.

These vivid imaginings were his only escape from a life devoid of parental love and filled with deep loneliness that he had completely gotten rid of now. 

In this world in constant wards may they be little or big, where he could trust no one, he could only trust in himself and things of his own invention.

Even as fictional characters, they proved to be more dependable than the despicable individuals he had encountered in his lifetime. While he harbored the common sentiment that Earth would be better off without certain scums, this notion consumed his thoughts almost obsessively. Fortunately, his upbringing in the school system, despite the shortcomings of his parents, instilled within him a set of morals that served as a barrier against making foolish decisions that could jeopardize his life. It was these morals that stood as the fragile boundary between chaos and reason.

And of course, he found stupid to waste time on thinking about scums instead of thinking about himself and what he wanted personally.

Scrolling through his creations, he paused at his latest upload.

Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova.

52.7M ❤.

The image of the young woman, her figure rotating as her information scrolled, was mesmerizingly beautiful yet tinged with a chilling aura. With her silver-white hair and deep red eyes, she stared back at Marek with an icy intensity. Inspired from the Grand Duchess of Russia, he had imagined her this way because, in his stories, she was supposed to be a strong boss to be defeated in the games.

As much as he disliked the notion, he had crafted her to be a dangerous woman. In the game, she couldn't be anything else.

"Finding true financial happiness through doing what you love is the ultimate goal," mused Marek, reclining in his chair with his legs propped up on his desk.

For Marek, making money doing what he was passionate about served as a powerful motivator. He poured his energy into creating characters with fervor and dedication, undisturbed by distractions.

Money was important to him, actually very important, yes, but his held the same passion in crafting characters.

Marek's gaze drifted to an open drawer, where several sheets lay untouched. They were his earliest creations, conceived during his childhood. However, with the demands of his current work, he rarely found time to revisit them.

Yet, these characters held a special place in his heart. In moments of distress during his childhood and even into high school, they had served as his silent therapists.

"It's almost embarrassing to think about now," Marek admitted with a wistful smile, genuine and rare compared to the forced grins he shared with colleagues or Edward.

"Dalquiel..."

Nostalgia washed over him as he traced the lines of his first creations. Each detail meticulously rendered, they seemed to tell the story of a lifetime.

"Was I really that sick back then?" Marek raised a brow, reflecting on his younger self as he looked over the character sheets.

Until he paused on a specific one.

One character stood out among the others—a young man with long, flowing white hair and piercing violet eyes. This character held a special significance; Marek had imagined him when he was just five years old.

Marek Adeus Astra.

This character was more than just a creation; he was a reflection of Marek's innermost thoughts and emotions. As Marek ran his fingers over the sheet, he noticed traces of dried blood, particularly prominent on this particular drawing.

The memory flooded back—the sting of the belt against his mouth, inflicted by his father as he worked on this very drawing. Marek's lips curled into a slight smile as he recalled.

"I can still taste it, even now, dear father. That metallic sweet taste of blood in my mouth," Marek muttered, his smile fading. He remained motionless, his gaze fixed on the character sheet, unsure whether he was contemplating the artwork or the dried blood.

After a long moment, Marek moved on to the next sheet without a word, as if nothing had happened.

"Oh, Raizel…" He murmured as he looked at his second drawn figure. He smiled as he held the character sheet up to the light and looked at the dark-haired girl.

As he continued to study his creations, Marek's fatigue caught up with him. His eyes grew heavy, and eventually, they closed slowly, the character sheets now resting peacefully on his chest.