Tom decided he would write a complex story that night — something deeper, something that could finally raise his mental power.But first, he needed to eat.

Since he was a terrible cook, he decided to go out. This time, he wanted to dine somewhere fancy. After all, he had money now — and maybe, just maybe, the taste of luxury would make him feel alive again.

He got dressed and headed out.When he reached the restaurant, the sight stunned him — rows of supercars and sleek luxury vehicles lined the entrance. The glowing sign above read the name he'd only ever seen online.Tom smirked. Guess this place really lives up to its name.

Inside, he took a seat near the window. The air smelled of perfume and wine, filled with the chatter of people wearing expensive suits and dresses.He ordered food — and while waiting, he watched them carefully.

All these people looked so proud, so controlled. Every gesture seemed rehearsed, every smile artificial.Tom almost laughed. Are these people here to eat… or is there a fashion show going on?

He chuckled quietly, then his thoughts darkened."They're showing off so hard," he whispered to himself. "But none of them even know that their every move… is being controlled by someone else."

Then he froze.Across the room, he saw someone familiar.Chris.

The same arrogant boy who always acted dominant back in school — just because his father was a businessman.

Tom's lips curled into a bitter smile. How funny… the one who always wanted control, being controlled by someone else now.

He laughed under his breath, then louder — until a few people turned to look at him.He didn't care.He'd never felt such satisfaction before.

When he calmed down, he noticed something else — a girl sitting beside Chris.Emilia.Tom scoffed. "Of course… Chris always has to drag his cousin everywhere."

Suddenly, the taste of food vanished from his mouth.The atmosphere felt suffocating.He decided to leave.

Outside, the cold air hit him.He started walking aimlessly, unsure where to go. For a while, it was peaceful — until that familiar feeling of emptiness began creeping back.

Tom laughed dryly. "Ha… what can I even do alone? Except gaming? Even games feel lifeless when you play alone."

He passed by a couple walking hand in hand, laughing softly under the streetlights.For a moment, he stopped and just stared.The laughter echoed in his chest — but it didn't warm him. It hollowed him out.

"Even power can't fill the void of loneliness," he whispered.

He walked home slowly, his thoughts heavy."What kind of life is this?" he murmured. "You have money, power… but nowhere to go. No one to talk to. Freedom's supposed to be good, right? Then why does it hurt so much?"

He unlocked his door and stepped into the silence of his house.No sound. No warmth. Just him — and the walls that had memorized his loneliness.

"You have to sacrifice something to be free…" he muttered.

Then, quietly, he broke.Tears streamed down his face as he whispered, "I never asked to be free… so why me?"

Minutes passed before he composed himself again.Wiping his eyes, he sat on his bed and opened his laptop.

"If I want to leave this hell," he said softly, "I need to write something truly complex."

He began watching movies, reading novels, and scrolling through countless stories — searching for inspiration, for depth, for something that could make his next story powerful enough to change everything.

But no matter how bright the screen shone,the shadows in his room never faded.