"Roele...? That's you, right?"
'I can't hear anything. I can't hear anything.'
"Hey."
'I can't hear anything.'
"HEY!"
The desk was slammed, and the attendant standing beside the library door scolded the culprit.
His eyes blazed as he pointed at the large sign neatly mounted on the wall: 'Please Be Quiet.'
The culprit apologized carelessly, then walked around the desk and stopped beside the young man who was busy turning the pages of a book. He sat down there.
"You're so stuck-up. I've been calling you for a while now."
Roele turned another page, ignoring the person pressed up against him and pretending they were close. Their shoulders were even touching now.
"I haven't seen you in a long time. Have you been busy?"
'Just ignore him. Just ignore him.'
"Hey!"
The library attendant looked ready to wave the flag of war. The culprit clicked his tongue, leaned back in his chair, and folded his arms across his chest.
"Don't tell me you've been busy writing again?"
That sacred word reached Roele's ears. He stood with his chest in turmoil, making the chair scrape as it was pushed backward.
"If you only came over to talk nonsense, you should leave me alone."
Roele carefully returned the book in his hand to its place on the shelf, then left the library with a rigid expression.
"Dude... I was only joking!"
Roele didn't answer the shout and kept walking, paying no attention to the increasingly noisy commotion caused by the library attendant, who was yelling like a debt collector.
The cold air attacked him at once. Winter made him tuck both hands into the pockets of his brown coat. White vapor drifted through the air every time he exhaled.
This young man's name was Roele. He was twenty years old. Six years ago, he had written a fantasy story on a web novel using an anonymous account.
Everything went smoothly. He had many loyal readers who always looked forward to the next update. With his anonymous account, Roele enjoyed his work without the slightest worry.
Until one day, his identity was exposed. Roele was the author of "Hero of the Heavenly Emperor," the story of a young man who gained powers and used them to seek revenge.
"Hero of the Heavenly Emperor" was indeed a clichéd story. But Roele managed to attract readers with the heartbreaking stories he wove into it. His trauma involving the people he called family turned out to be fascinating entertainment for his readers.
Everything happened so quickly. People who had never cared before started coming one after another, all just to uncover the truth.
They had never truly felt any empathy for Roele. They only wanted to hear a heartbreaking story that sounded insane, then act as though they knew everything.
'I know how it feels. It must be really painful for you, huh?'
'You poor thing. I understand how you feel.'
It was all bullshit.
Everything only got worse. The media came to his house with cameras as large as gallon jugs perched on their shoulders. Suddenly, Roele became a cash cow for the news industry.
Roele was still only fourteen years old. He fell into depression again. His trauma returned because he was forced to remember the terrible experiences he had endured.
In the end, he decided to leave the writing world. He abandoned everything that had brought him joy and went back to being the stiff, antisocial Roele.
Back in the present, Roele stood by the side of the highway with a vacant stare. Large vehicles streamed past in front of him.
'I could die instantly if I stepped forward now.'
A fleeting, crazy thought crossed his mind. Roele weakly shook his head and breathed out a cold sigh.
'I want to live a long life. Death is painful.'