[BL] I Picked up a Husband While Trying To Become An Author

Story 4.1 Prelude

.BEWARE: This Arc is part Thriller, Violence and Whatever might make one uncomfortable.

KILLINGS are involved and have been separated into DEATH LOGS.

Please skip the DEATH LOGS if you do not wish to read their DESCRIPTIVE DEATHS. 

The Admin is still in the arc making a joke about everything so funny things still happens haha.

Now do continue~ 

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[Admin: This happened twice. You already got kidnapped twice!!!]

His brain was killing him and he stood up, wobbly. Ming Yu shook his head to clear out of his blurry vision and looked around where he was.

It was a luxurious room, well every room in the cruise was luxurious in itself so it was no wonder why there were even eerie statue decorations present here.

The wallpapers were baroque and the bed was made of wood, garnished imitating an antique style.

" ... " The room was a bit creepy.

[Admin: You're in your room. Ah, Chris Han's room. The killer didn't do anything else other than taking you here and then leaving. He did touch you a little bit.]

"Touch?" He put his hands on his pants and then to his shirt then approached the mirror to check if there were traces on his face.

[Admin: By touch he only stared at you while playing with your hair. Author, were you thinking of something dirty? Is that all you have stored in your head now? sheesh (ಠ_ಠ)]

"..."

[Admin: It's almost sunrise, they should be awake soon. You better change out of your bloody clothes or they'll point fingers at you.]

Ming Yu thought about last night and stared at his hands. They were tainted with blood, dry and crusty. Washing them off would take a while so he better get started washing them now.

He stripped out of his blood soaked clothes and hid it behind the closet hidden from the naked eye.

He entered the shower, staring at the bloody water as it turned into a puddle under his feet and was rapidly drained out.

How did Ming Yu felt when he saw a dead person's body?

Ah, actually. . . he felt nothing.

Maybe it was because he was the author that despite being present within the story, he still felt like a spectator, like watching a movie run in 4D?

He doesn't remember what was going on in this book in detail. He was a senior in middle school when he wrote this. How many years had it been? less than 10 years?

"..."

He felt conflicted.

This was a book, a book he wrote himself. An art of fiction. But now that he exists within it, then he should perceive everyone around him, every smell, every sight, feeling, as his new reality.

Yet why. . . why was he indifferent when he saw that woman dead even though she was brutally murdered. . .

The stiff hand even pulled his ankle before she died, desperate for help in her last moments. She probably tried waking him up, struggling to survive.

Then he thought about him. About his lover. His love for him was true. Every breath he took wouldn't be full if he wasn't around him. He was so deep in love that Ming Yu didn't want to go back, he didn't want to be in a reality where he didn't exist.