How Many Pages Are In 'We Shouldn'T'?

The protagonist of 'The Forsaken Sigil: The Child That Shouldn't Be' is a mysterious figure named Elias Veymar, a child born under a cursed eclipse that marked him as an outcast from birth. What makes Elias fascinating isn’t just his tragic backstory—it’s how he defies the world’s expectations. Despite being branded a harbinger of doom, he’s not some brooding antihero. Instead, he’s cunning, using his 'forsaken' status as a weapon. The nobles fear him because he can manipulate the very sigils they use for magic, turning their power against them. His journey isn’t about redemption; it’s about rewriting his destiny through sheer audacity. The story’s brilliance lies in how Elias weaponizes others’ superstitions, making them his greatest strength rather than a weakness.

This one took me on a little sleuthing trip, and I ended up tracing a few different release moments for 'My Bestfriend's Brother Shouldn't Know How I Seem' depending on which format you mean. The earliest incarnation I found was on a serial platform—think indie posting sites—where chapters began appearing around mid-2018. That stretch of weekly or biweekly posts built up a modest but devoted readership, which is why folks often cite 2018 as the 'debut' year. A couple years later the author gathered the serialized chapters, revised some scenes, and self-published a collected version in late 2019. That edition had slightly cleaner editing and a simple cover, and it’s the version a lot of fans bought and shared screenshots of. Then, because the story picked up steam, an official print run with a small press and a commissioned artist appeared around 2021, which is when it reached a broader audience and got listed on more retailer pages. So depending on your definition of "released"—first online chapter, self-published compiled edition, or official press release—you’re looking at roughly 2018 (web serialization), 2019 (self-pub collection), and 2021 (press-backed edition). I find the evolution from raw web serial to polished print really charming; it’s like watching a song move from bedroom demo to studio version, and I still prefer a few early scenes from the serialized run for their raw energy.

I went on a little online treasure hunt when I saw that title, and here's the practical scoop: start with the big legal streamers first. Crunchyroll, Netflix, Amazon Prime Video and HIDIVE are where most licensed anime lands these days, and Bilibili also hosts a lot of region-specific stuff. If 'My Bestfriend's Brother Shouldn't Know How I Seem' is an anime, one of those services might have it, or at least list it under a slightly different English title. Use each site’s search box and try variations of the title — sometimes distributors shorten or reword things for different markets. If nothing turns up there, broaden the search to publishers and databases. Check MyAnimeList or AniList and Anime News Network to see if the title exists under an alternate romanization or a Japanese name. If the property is a manga or light novel instead of a show, look at publishers like Yen Press, VIZ, Kodansha Comics and Seven Seas, and search ebook stores and book retailers. Authors often put publication news on Twitter/X, Pixiv, or their personal websites, so a quick search for the title plus “author” or “publisher” can unearth announcements. Finally, be patient if it’s very new or indie — some works are web novels or doujin projects that haven’t been adapted or licensed yet. In that case, check official web platforms where creators post, like Pixiv Novels or Japanese web-novel sites, and follow the creator for localization updates. I love that hunt for a new favorite; finding the legit source always makes the experience sweeter, so I hope you track it down soon and enjoy it as much as I would.

If you're worried about who actually controls or 'owns' the way you appear to your best friend's brother, here's the clear-headed take I use when sorting through messy social situations. Legally and practically, people don't "own" your personality or how you come off to others. You do control your personal information, images, and recordings in many places, especially if they were made with your consent or in private. If someone shares photos, videos, or private messages without permission, that can violate privacy expectations, platform rules, or even local laws like data-protection and publicity-right statutes. But the details change by country — some places have stronger protections (think of rules similar to 'right to be forgotten' in Europe), while others put a lot more weight on free speech. So I keep expectations realistic: you can demand removal and set boundaries, but results depend on where you live and the platform involved. On the human side, the smartest move is plain communication. Tell your best friend you don't want their brother seeing or commenting on certain things, ask them to delete or untag posts, and be explicit about what crosses the line. If that doesn't work, tighten privacy settings, remove tags, and document everything. If the situation escalates—harassment, blackmail, or threats—collect evidence and look into legal options or platform reporting mechanisms. I've learned that blending a calm boundary-setting approach with concrete tech actions usually gives the best outcome and keeps relationships salvageable, which matters to me more than a courtroom drama.

If you want to keep your tastes from your best friend's brother, think of it like putting up gentle boundaries instead of building a fortress — that’s worked best for me. First off, clean up your visible footprints: check who can see your posts and stories on social apps, use the 'Close Friends' feature on platforms that have it, and un-tag yourself from photos where mutuals might peek. I also mute or archive content that would give away too much (like playlists or liked pages) and use private playlists or an alt account for things I only share with a few people. Second, steer conversations in person. When he asks about favorites, I deflect with curiosity—ask about what he likes, give a broad or neutral answer, or talk about something related but not revealing. It sounds small, but over time it keeps the wrong details from slipping out. I also avoid linking my main accounts to shared group chats and try not to use shared devices without logging out of apps. Finally, decide what you’re okay with people knowing. Complete secrecy is exhausting, so I choose a few harmless things to share and keep the rest private. If the sibling is someone who snoops a lot, I tighten settings and avoid leaving my phone where he can access it. It’s about smart defaults and small habits — I feel a lot calmer when I take those tiny steps, and you might too.

Keeping it can bring unnecessary stress. If it has negative memories or baggage attached, it might weigh you down. Letting go opens up room for new possibilities and experiences. Trust me, it feels liberating. Life's too short to cling to things that don’t enhance your happiness. So, think about what truly serves you and move forward with a light heart.

I've read 'You Shouldn't Have Come Here' and can confirm it's not based on a true story. The novel is pure fiction, crafted with such vivid realism that it fools many into thinking it might be real. The author blends small-town secrets and psychological tension so well that it feels like you're reading someone's diary. The isolated setting, the mysterious locals, and the protagonist's paranoia are all classic thriller tropes amped up to eleven. While elements might echo real-life cases—like disappearances in rural areas—the plot itself is original. If you want something similarly gripping but factual, try 'I'll Be Gone in the Dark' about the Golden State Killer.

Catching the first chapter of 'Bestfriends Shouldn't Know What You Like' felt like sneaking into a cozy café where two old friends are arguing over the last slice of cake — except the cake is feelings. The story follows two long-time friends: one is low-key, careful with words, secretly into soft romances and small, meaningful rituals; the other is loud, impulsive, and wildly oblivious about how their presence affects people. Early scenes show their easy banter and shared history, sprinkled with flashbacks to childhood mischief and a few tender moments that read like time-bombed confessions. As the plot progresses, one of them starts to notice a shift — jealousy, daydreams, and a creeping worry that being honest could break what they already have. There's a slow-burn romance vibe: miscommunication, near-misses, and small domestic scenes that mean everything. Secondary characters (a blunt bestie, an ex who reappears, a wise older relative) push the pair to confront truths they’ve avoided. The climax isn’t about grand declarations but a quiet choice: either keep the safe friendship or risk vulnerability for something deeper. I loved how it kept emotional stakes realistic, leaning into the messy beauty of choosing someone who already knows your worst habits. It left me smiling in that reflective, slightly wistful way you get after a good late-night chat with a friend.