To Your Moralless Novel の小説・ストーリー

First and foremost, this is a work of fiction, and no correlation should be made with living people or incidents. The author doesn't support any of the ideology or the relationship— friendship or romantic— being presented in this story. This was merely written for entertainment sake, not to be followed and used as an ideal. There are many things that are wrong in this novel morally, and therefore, don't let this novel influence you. A sharp pain went through her back, and a cry escaped from her mouth the moment she opened her eyes. Tears started to form at the corner of her eyes.

But now that I wasn’t absorbed by the book in front of me, I shuddered, not sure if I was more chilled more by the dark room or by what I had just read. I put the book back into its compartment, unwilling to look at it again. Nyllan had indeed been a man before his time. I couldn’t have guessed at the contents of his work before I had read it, but I certainly understand now why his work would have been so threatening for his time. It was all deeply unsettling. It had the potential to be completely transformative; but I didn’t dare go there now. But as much as I didn’t want to admit it, the book had been compelling. The data was overwhelmingly convincing; his research methods–while ethically

“And what was that? He was acting so proud and mighty one second, and as soon as he found out who he was messing with, he turned tail and ran? Isn’t he embarrassed? What was even the point of him coming to talk to us in the first place?” Blackie felt the need to pitch in, “Think of it this way, what is the point of cannon fodder in a novel?” “In this context? So, he can jump out and make trouble for the main character?” Noah suddenly paused and then gaped, “Don’t tell me that this dude will come back to make trouble for me?!? But I didn’t even do anything!! This is completely illogical!!!” Blackie snickered, “And you expect logic from trashy novels that come up with random cannon fodder–

"He made you too perfect! He made you a saint who survives everything! It’s unrealistic! People don't survive 'System Warfare' and 'Dark Fantasy'! They break! They get tired! They lose their hair and their hope!" ​She stepped into Nora’s personal space, the red pen hovering over Nora’s heart. "I’m going to write you an ending that is Mundane. You won't die a hero. You’ll just... fade away in a quiet suburb, forgotten by the readers who moved on to the next 'Top Novel'." ​The Break in the Fourth Wall ​Nora looked at the man in the security shirt. "Help us! You're the Author!" ​The man looked down at his curdled coffee. "I... I can't, Nora. She’s the one who pays the electricity bill for the s

“You’re welcome, but for what?” “Everything.” That, along with the deeper kiss he pressed to her lips, was answer enough. ****** Author’s Notes I love futuristic, post-apocalyptic, and/or dystopian fiction. I wouldn’t want to live it, of course, but it’s fun to imagine how bad things could get, and how good people would function in the aftermath. In this book, I also explored a bit how harsh times make even good people do some questionable things. Can you forgive a good character if he (or she) does something morally ambiguous for the ones they love? I like complex characters and questions like that. I hope I gave a modicum of competency to exploring the idea.

“You said that you read the novel in that world, can you tell me about the plot and why did I become a villain? I feel that there's something suspicious with the content of the book, much more the author of the book. Did the author of the novel that you read have a supernatural power that can see the future of the other world? I always have this feeling that this world, which is our original world isn't made by the author, much more because of the novel. The author of the book you read is suspicious.” I looked at him wide-eyed as I cheerfully kissed his cheeks. “You thought so too? Back then I have already been suspicious of the author whose pen name was ‘zero’. Back in that world, I happene

Only if I had known my soul would have been sold for nothing, I would have ended it. The room hadn't changed a bit all these years. Same dark walls that made the room intimidating and the absolute perfection in the way it was organized just as its owner, hiding all that evil just barely underneath the surface, simmering and waiting for the perfect time to strike its prey. I repressed a shudder and took a seat waiting for him to notice my presence in the room. He was writing in a journal on the desk, I had always wondered what he wrote in there, the number of people he killed, or the latest mission he accomplished?

I gestured at the fragments, at them, at the invisible threads between us “—into law.” “Law?” Jax said. “That’s a big word for horror, girl.” “Stories are just laws with better PR,” I said. “Right now, its story says: you come here, you get used, you burn, the end. I want to write one where this thing still processes regret, but it doesn’t own you to do it. Where every soul it touches gets a choice in how much they give and how long they stay. Where nobody gets welded into the engine just because they are good at bleeding.”

Alex's POV Another useless idle day spent in a boring office full of paperwork and awful bosses who treat me like trash. I was far too annoyed, far too stressed, as I began searching BDSM clubs, submission, and someone else taking control of your life. Somehow it sounded wild yet tugged something within me. The Vault was the name that kept popping up. That was the secret spot where real Doms played rough.

"You're talking about erasing free will entirely!" A small price for survival. For peace. "It's not peace!" Alden's voice joined in. "It's slavery with a smile!" You say that now, Morwen countered. But watch. The scene shifted again. Now they saw one of Morwen's "perfect" societies—a city where she'd managed to possess every single leader, coordinating them all like pieces on a chessboard. And it was... beautiful. No crime. No hunger. No suffering of any kind. But also no laughter. No spontaneity. No growth.