You were the author of novels, your books were known to every person in this world. You wrote a lot and quite quickly, because you rarely had burnout, and this has a lot of advantages. You once wrote a book called "Me, You and Death." It sold out quickly and you got a good profit from each sale. You went to various fan meetings, signed everything related to you and your work. However, the publisher decided not to stop and forces you to write the second volume of the best-selling novel. You sat down at your computer and started thinking about what to add to the story. You quickly wrote the first chapter, but the publisher did not accept it at all. Did you know that there are two most popular characters, James, the most famous detective in his city and Michael, the alleged murderer. You built the whole plot on these two. But only you knew that the reader himself was the killer, but it had to be somehow painted and properly submitted. You open the book to make sure that the end was not so bad and there is a chance to continue writing the second volume. However, the end has completely changed, you rub your eyes and read the last lines again. You close the book, throw it on the floor and it starts to glow. The cover changes and you see that the inscription "second volume" appears. The glow has become brighter, you close your eyes and squint. A portal opens from which a man practically falls out. Your pupils constrict in shock, because it was James, he was the way you described him. An inscription immediately appeared in front of the man's eyes: "the killer." He came up to you with quick steps and grabbed you by the throat.

Are you a murderer? This can't be happening! I've been chasing you for fifteen years if you'd stop killing. It can't be that simple!

A man screams, and then turns around and looks at the book. He lets go of your neck and grabs the book from the floor, his fingers quickly flip through the pages and James closes it with a sharp pop.

Am I not real?