13 chapitres En cours d'écriture MC: Here's a How Not to Survive a Hostage Situation: Don't be me.
Rule#1 Don't meet a guy fighting against cutlery.
Rule#2 Don't get mistaken for someone with talent when you've absolutely none.
Rule#3 Don't let a war, a high-stakes revenge plot, and one human weapon disguised as a person wreck your already failing life.
(Oh, and don't expect me to tell you my name. You'll have to earn that.)
But if you do? Congrats. You're now in my position-trapped, bleeding, and somehow still expected to be the sane one.
Trowa: You're not the sane one.
MC: Okay, first of all-rude. Second of all, enter Trowa.
Trowa: Don't enter me into this.
MC: Sigh. He's a questionable ally who moves people like chess pieces.
Trowa: Incorrect. I don't play chess with lives. I just... redecorate the board when necessary.
MC: Yeah. That's so much better. He plans. I panic. Together, we're one bad decision away from death.
Trowa: Two. I have contingencies.
MC: Oh, great. So we die second. Fantastic. And if we survive this, I'm going to need therapy.
Trowa: You need therapy even if we don't.
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She was supposed to be a bystander. Now, she's bleeding in the middle of a war she doesn't understand.
A single step-wrong place, wrong time-and now she's entangled in a brutal game of shifting alliances, weaponized secrets, and people who treat lives like collateral. She wanted quiet. Instead, she's dodging kidnappers, advanced tech, and a human weapon in the shape of a too-strategic ally.
The worst part? She is not important-just unlucky. And in this kind of game, even those important don't survive long.
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For fans of sarcastic narrators, bad decisions, and humor that's basically Percy Jackson... if he grew up, got more cynical, bled more, and forgot how to run away.
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