“You are gay, right? Why, you ask? Of course, it’s because you are a fudanshi!” is what I have heard all the time. At first, I do my best to explain that “not all fudanshis are gay!” to them, but as time goes by, I don’t care about it anymore. They can think what they want to think about me, it doesn’t matter, as long as they are not bothering my job.
I am a BL writer. I only write novels. Why don’t I draw a BL webtoon? Simple. It’s because my art skill’s suck. However, because I love to read BL, I choose to become a writer. I’m not that famous yet, but at least people still read my novels.
If I’m not gay, then is it true that I’m a fudanshi? The answer is, yes. I am.
I’m a proud fudanshi, and actually, I still didn’t know if I’m gay or not. I mean, I do love BL, and I like cute boys. I also watch gay p*rn, but if boys become my lover? Errr ….
I mean, I don’t have any idea about it yet. All these times, I only date girls—still the cute ones. I have a lot of boy-friends, and one buddy—which is my editor—but I’ve never thought about them as my lover. Not at all. Yes, I live and breathe BL, but I still have no thought about dating boys.
“Another omega verse again, Mr. Abolover?” The one and only male editor in Hikari Publisher, and unfortunately, he works for me. I still remember when we first met. We laughed with each other and talked a lot, until the boss told him that I’m writing BL genre, and he should become my editor. At that moment, his face became so pale, and he didn’t talk a lot to me anymore.
“Of course! I love omega verse, you know that better than anyone else in this world.” I answered him without looking at my laptop camera. I’m still focused on my new upcoming novel. I’m glad this publisher allows us—writer and editor—to choose between WFO or hybrid. As an introvert-anti social person, of course I and Ryuuga—my editor—choose the hybrid type.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s right, but don’t you think it’s time to write a new thing?”
“Like what? You know, omega verse is still a top tier for the most loveable genre these days, and even my pen name is Mr. Abolover. Wouldn’t that be weird if I write another sub-genre besides omega verse?”
He fell silent. I’m stopping my activity on my novel and looking at my laptop camera to see him. He’s still silent.
“No … not that, I mean, how if …,”
I'm patiently waiting for him to continue his sentence. We were working together for about two years, so I know him a little. He always found it difficult to tell people what he actually meant or wanted.
“Ahh, how about isekai?”
Cough, cough. I think I’ll die, but it turns out that luck is still on my side.
“How could I not think about it sooner?! Ryuuga, you really are my savior!”
He just sighs at me and spins his eyeballs. Ryuuga is not a fudanshi and he doesn’t like BL. However, all these times, he had never been mad at me or mocked me for being a fudanshi. He even said, “I don’t care about your genre, though, of course, I was surprised my first career as a novel editor would be in BL genre, but who cares? The novel is still a novel, as long as there are people who like it, and as long as you are disciplined with your schedule, I don’t mind anything else.”
“Isekai-omega verse? I think it would be good.”
“No, it would be GREAT!” I’m still hysterical, and brutally scroll through my reading history to find some inspiration.
“Whatever, but the thing is, are you sure you can do it? You always avoid the fantasy genre because you said that was so hard, but now you wanna write isekai?”
Now, it’s me who fell silent.
I remember now. Why I don’t write another sub-genre besides omega verse was because I don’t want to get out of my comfort zone. No, not yet.
“Then why’d you tell me to write isekai?” If he was here, I’d definitely punch him to death.
He shrugs his shoulders. “I wonder too.”
However, if not now, then when? I think it’s time for me to get out of my comfort zone.
“I’ll do it,” I said it steadily. Now, or never.
“Iori, you sure?” Like me, Ryuuga knows me well too. I hardly ever talk to him that steadily.
“Yeah, give me a time.” I start deleting my old writings, drink my two liters of water, and get my vape ready. These are my habits when I’ll be in my ultra-focus mode.
“Just don’t overdo it. We’ll meet in two days to discuss it further.”
I didn't answer. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him preparing to close his laptop. That means, he gives me time in my ultra-focus mode.
“… but, Iori, I always wanted to ask this.”
I’m stopping my finger from scrolling and looking back at the laptop camera. “What is that?”
“Why are you crazily in love with omega verse?”
I didn’t answer him right away. Honestly, I don’t have any thoughts about it. Why, though?
“I feel like an omega verse was more beautiful than this real world. I mean, look at them. Both male and female can get pregnant, so it feels fairer for females.” I show him my novel's cover—the Alpha that kissed his preggy Omega.
Ryuuga nods. “Then, if this world is omega verse, what do you want to be?”
“A green Dominant Alpha, of course!” This time, I can answer him with full confidence. “I want to be an Alpha and have my own Omega. I’ll protect them, love them, and won’t hurt them like other Alphas. I swear I would love them till I die.”
I smile when explaining it to Ryuuga. Sometimes, I forget that omega verse was only an alternate universe. It does hurt me, but what else can I do?
“That’s good of you. You’re sure a good boy, indeed.” I see Ryuuga turn his bed lamp on. He’s yawning with his eyes closed. “Bye, then.”
One second, and our video call is disconnected.
It's half past two in the morning, and here I am, still sitting in my chair, in front of my dear partner—my laptop.
“You, prick! I told you that we have to meet on Tuesday like usual!”
My eyes are still closed when I heard Ryuuga’s tantrums on the phone. I knew it, he must be at the publisher’s canteen, waiting for me like a dog who was waiting for the owner to come.
“Oh, is it Tuesday already? Sorry, I don’t have any calendar.” I’m not lying, and he knows that.
“Come here ASAP, or I’ll sign my resign—”
He was threatening me with that kind of thing these days. If he gets out of his job as my editor, that means another editor would have to replace him, and I don’t want to start everything from zero with another stranger.
I throw my phone away and run to the bathroom. Without bathing, only wash my face, to get my eyes open. However, it wasn’t only open—it opened twice as large as usual—because of one thing. I touch it. It’s real!
Fangs. Not only one, but two.
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