Marauders_foxy390

Plot: A woman in her early 20s who is unemployed due to being rejected by every place writes a web novel to earn money in order to pay her rents and pull of her student loan, what will happen if one day the character from her books comes alive and right in front of her

My deepest desire

"So, what you're saying is that this person randomly appeared in your living room and fainted—while bleeding?" the officer asked, eyes narrowing.

She fidgeted with her hands, biting her lip before giving a small nod. The officer sitting across from her sighed and slid a document across the desk.

"Alright then. Fill this out and write your number here. We'll contact you if we find anything."

She nodded again, stood up, and left the station quietly.

"Who could that man be?" she mumbled to herself as she walked toward the bus stand. When the bus arrived, she stepped in and took a seat by the window, resting her head against the glass.

"I hope he's okay..." she whispered, her eyelids growing heavy as she drifted off to sleep.

Someone was gently shaking her shoulder. She opened her eyes to find a stranger standing beside her.

"Your stop is here."

She blinked herself awake, murmured a tired thank you, and stepped off the bus, making her way home.

As she entered her apartment, she flipped the lights on—and froze.

"What the hell...?" she whispered.

She rubbed her eyes, thinking it was a trick of exhaustion. But no—everything was clean. The usual musty, rotten smell was gone. Instead, it smelled like...home.

Panicked, she rushed from room to room. Everything was in place. Everything was perfect.

"Seems like you're not used to a clean atmosphere, my lady."

She spun around, heart leaping into her throat. The man—the one from earlier—stood there, calm and composed.

"W-what the hell?" she stammered, backing into the wall.

He smirked. "Seems like you like to curse too, my lady." He took a step toward her. "What else do you like to do?"

She pressed herself tighter against the wall as he drew closer, his presence overwhelming.

The sound echoed in the silence. She had slapped him.

He slowly turned his head back, rubbing his reddened cheek, and chuckled.

"For a lady, you sure have rough hands."

"Who are you?" she whispered, fear thick in her voice.

He leaned in, his voice low and intimate. "You know who I am."

"No... I don't know who you are!" she stuttered, trembling.

"How can the one who created me not know who I am?" he whispered in her ear.

Mysterious encounter at home