The whole office was silent. I can only hear the ticking sounds of the wall clock that points at 3am in the morning. Clicking sounds of the keyboards and papers flutters. 

I'm currently in the studio that I am working with. I'm too exhausted to work and draw. I need time to mourn over my pet dog that recently died, but my boss made me work overtime instead. 

I sigh as I check my phone to read the comments of my readers’ thoughts about my novel that I just recently finished. 

I scrolled over to my screen as I read the comments one by one. I just finished this novel's Epilogue last night and now it has 500+ comments. Hundreds of thousands reads and likes. 

But somehow, I feel empty. 

I didn’t even expect it to become a number one hit in this literature app I published. I just wrote this because I was so bored out of my life and treated it as my dreamscape in this hell of a world. Well, I was lucky, I guess?

“Wow! The ending was so beautiful! I felt sad that Claudette was burned by that stake and she really deserves more! We need a comic adaptation for this!”

“Elisse suffered a lot because of that bitchy problematic Claudette… She has Lazarus already but she’s waaayyyy too creepy and obsessed over Ace, she deserves it lol.”

“Claudette was so well written, I really liked her character because she’s the epitome of reality when it comes to love. It’s sad to see her being burned down by the stake and even peed on by one of her men. It’s brutal, but I love the ending.” 

Epitome of reality when it comes to love? 

I just scratched my head, trying to reflect their comments about my novel. I don’t even know anything when it comes to love. But here's the catch why I wrote Claudette to become like this…

I am an observant type of person. I observe people how they fall in love, the way they act, their eyes dilated as they see the face of the person they loved the most. How obsessive and possessive they had become… 

Just like him… 

I glanced over at Andrew Lopez and he was already watching over me from a distance. His dilated pupils looked at me so intently. It became creepy. 

Andrew was a childhood classmate of mine, back in elementary but we parted ways when I stopped attending class when I was in my 3rd grade. 

I never thought that we would be meeting here. I didn't even know he used to draw. I thought his family was wealthy.

I am the lead artist of this comic studio I'm working on. In all of my years of living, I dedicated myself to art. 

Some people noticed my skills and they supported me until this far by commissioning arts. I guess selling sampaguita and begging for a few coins in the streets and churches wasn't a naught. I bought a phone and drew, then I became so good at drawing digitally, then a lot of people started commissioning me. 

I saved up for a place to stay and… met a new family… my pet dog.

“Samantha Yela Cruz!” Shit… I unconsciously cursed under my breath because of my boss’ loud voice, screaming at me. She could have just tapped over my shoulder and called for me to be more calm and have a decency to be silent. But she chose to make my ear bleed instead. It's already past 3 am in the shitty morning and she’s shouting like a psychopath because I made a mistake at work. 

Well, I intentionally did it anyway. I hated her story because it’s like a cheap copy of the novel of mine. Because I am the ghostwriter of this novel. I also write stories for people in exchange for money without crediting me. 

I used my talent for money and it made me even sadder.

Has she been screaming for 5 minutes? I don’t want to listen to her annoying nags. I just want to go home and mourn the remaining family I just lost 2 days ago… 

Chuchu… 

He’s my pet dog that I took care of, but some ungrateful neighbor bastards killed him with rat poison. 

“Were you even listening to me?!” She shouted once again. Flapping the papers right in front of my face. 

Are those all of the mistakes I made on some panels? 

“All the drafts you made are all wrong! What the hell is wrong with you?!” I gave her my blank stare. My eyes puffy red and dark circles around. My bottom lids are getting heavier and heavier. 

She heaves a sigh as she flaps the papers right into my face again. “I know that everyone is tired right now since we are doing rushed chapters in these past three days—” I clenched my hands and cut her off. 

“Then let the rest of us have a good rest.” I coldly cut her off and her face immediately turned beet red. 

She grit her teeth as she glared at me, “are you seriously fucking with me right now?” She asked, feeling so annoyed so I gave her my deadliest look, because I'm ten times more pissed than her. 

“All I ever wanted was a day's rest just to mourn my dog that recently passed away and yet you overworked us with a low salary?” 

“Just what the hell do you expect from us?” I added. My co-workers started whispering. Of course, we've been working our asses off with low salary, how can't this become an issue? 

“What the hell, Samantha is right.”

“We've been working our asses off overtime for weeks with low pay.”

“The hell… Should we just quit?”

“This comic's story is a cheap version of that famous novel anyways.”

“If ‘My Dear Cold Prince of Spade' makes a comic adaptation, I'll quit this job.”

I scoffed inside my head. Even my workmates read my novel? I didn't even know my work could be that famous. They have no idea I am the author anyways because I left my identity unknown.. 

Almarie's eyes flashed in total rage as she glared at me. “Shut your trap, Samantha.” Our boss, Almarie raised her hand where she held the papers, “Who cares about your damned dog?!” She shouted as she threw the papers right at my face but I didn't flinch. 

I didn't even blink. 

I'm so used to abuse from my mother back then, a situation like this is nothing to me. 

“Don't you act so cocky just because you're the lead artist here in my studio!”

“That is why people here don't even like you!”

“It's because of your personality!” 

Nag, nag, nag. She's just so annoying. 

“You know what?! Just grab your things and leave!”

“You're fired!”

She turned around and went straight to her office then slammed the door closed. I rolled my eyes then kneeled to the ground and started picking up the papers one by one. 

This world is too cruel for faint hearted people. I envy the people in power and those who lived happily with their parents. I'm just all alone in this rat place, trying to survive. 

A hand grabbed my attention below my peripheral vision so I raised my forehead to see who it was. 

Andrew Lopez. 

“Let me help you with that, Yela.” He said while giving me a warm smile with a slight bitterness. He might be sad that he'll no longer be seeing me again. 

Good to know because he won't be seeing me until he’ll draw his last breath.

“I can't let myself see my favorite author who wrote Claudette crawling like this.” 

He knows. 

He knows that I wrote that novel. 

“Hey, are you gonna publish a sequel for Claudette? I really, really like her, you know.” he added so my brows furrowed. 

What the hell? 

So this guy wasn't obsessed with me. He's been following me because he was a fan of my book? 

“How did you know that I was the author of that novel?” I asked him with a cold tone and he scoffed, “you're carrying your manuscripts with you all the time to work. Of course I found out it was you.” 

He's the only one who's been paying a lot of attention to me and it's my fault I wasn't being too careful. 

Never mind… 

All of this will end once it happens anyway. 

“Here.” He said as he handed the papers he picked for me. I noticed he froze for a bit while looking at Lazarus’s character sheet so I raised a brow at him and grabbed the paper in his hand. 

I stood up and dusted off my white dress and put all of my drafts into my folder and hit it in my shoulder bag. 

“Thanks for your help.” I said and looked him in the eye for the last time. “and about my hidden identity as the writer of that novel. I don't mind if you tell the whole world about it.” I said and turned around to exit the studio. 

I closed the door and took a deep breath. The sky is still dark, cloudy and the air feels so cold. 

I like it. 

I started walking and headed to my destination. As I walked down the road, I admired the foggy dark roads towards the empty bridge. I came across some election flyers so I stopped walking and grabbed my cigar and lit it up for a smoke. 

The faces of these crocs are everywhere. 

This country is fucked. The population is so dense that this place became so smelly. Trash everywhere and election flyers made it all the worse. 

I stared at Chuchu's collar that I turned into my bracelet on my left wrist. I'm left handed and I hate wearing bracelets on my left wrist but Chuchu is special. And I'm planning to take him with me. 

I continued to walk and  stopped my tracks in the middle of the foggy bridge. I let out a smoke from my cigar and turned the fire out using my tongue. 

It doesn't hurt. I didn't even feel pain. 

I'm numb. 

I started to climb onto the barrier of the bridge and grabbed my phone inside my bag. I opened the forum social app and started typing about my confession. 

A farewell message. 

"Hey, my name is Samantha Yela Cruz. The main artist of “My Emperor Is A Jerk” comic and the writer of ‘My Dear Cold Prince of Spade’ novel. I am here to confess the traits of our boss. Her name is Almarie Santos. She always used her privilege as a boss of the team. She would scream at us and verbally abuse us just to get what she wants. I have been overworked and underpaid for 3 years now. We even worked overtime for 3 fucking days. I guess the other artists are going to die anytime soon too. I want to apply for other jobs but this country sucks. They needed a College degree and a fucking 3-5 years experience so I just to get accepted as a cashier. Ironic right? I was supposed to make a comic adaptation of My Cold Prince of Spade but all my hopes were gone in a snap the moment my dog died. That is all.”

I pressed the post and in an instant, someone upvoted. The upvotes turned from 1 to 100. I scoffed and gripped my phone as I threw it in the ocean. 

“You win, God.” I said and clenched my fist until my nails dug into my palms. “Are you happy now? I lost. The life you have given me sucks. And don't you dare tell me that all of these are just the challenges you gave me! Because this is fucking hell!” I screamed at the top of my lungs until my voice cracked.

I grabbed all of my papers in my bag and scattered them everywhere in the ocean, some of them flew on the ground.

“Oh Lord. I'm gonna meet you face to face and smack your face so you can feel my pain too.”

I closed my eyes as the cold wind hit my skin. My head is so messy. I feel like my whole body has become a scribbled line. My adrenaline rises and that’s when I knew I was ready to end everything.

My heart skipped a beat and jumped on the barrier of the bridge to end the string of my life. Everything seemed so fast and the cold wind hit my face like I was riding a rollercoaster early in the morning. 

I haven't even ridden one in all my life. It’s probably fun to ride.... 

My body instantly collided with the cold bodies of salt water like a big boulder suddenly fell on my limbs and torso then the loud muffling splash. My body ached all over and I think I might have crushed my ribs and have a few broken bones. My body became instantly cold, and my head hurts so bad, I am slowly losing consciousness. 

I just closed my eyes and let my fate decide. 

“Claudette.”

Who's that? 

“My dear Claudette. Wake up.”

Everything is muffled. I cannot hear properly because of the waters. Is someone here? A ghost perhaps?

“Claudette, can you hear papa?”

Papa? I don’t even know who my dad was.

“Claudette!”

I gasped so much air and my eyes opened in an instant! 

“My daughter. I apologize for waking you up but you have to eat!” The man's gentle voice worriedly said. I can’t see properly who this is. Earlier, my body was so cold and now I am sweating a lot and it feels like I am having a high fever. 

“My Lord, the little miss needs to rest. She can eat by tomorrow morning. Her breathing is unstable and she seems so exhausted. Worry not, she will be fine by tomorrow.” Another male voice said. I can't seem to focus my vision because of how heavy my body feels. 

I just have a question. 

Why the hell were people here under the cold ocean? And why am I burning up? 

I just noticed my surroundings despite my blurry vision. Why in the hell am I inside a rococo style room? 

Did I really die? 

“My dear Claudette. Have a rest and father will take care of everything. I'll tell the Empress myself to reschedule your tea party with her.” The man said and my head rang like a church bell, giving me a hint of what is actually going on here. 

“W-What is my full name?” I was surprised how cute my voice was so I instantly froze. 

“My daughter, Claudette… have you already forgotten about your name? Your name is Claudette Beatrice Dolce.”

I tried to raise my hand and looked at it while my heart was pounding so fast.

Small. 

Small soft hands. Like a child's. 

I am inside of a child's body. I am inside of my novel's side character who was destined to die by the hands whom she loved… 

What the hell is God thinking again?!