Toji lay awake, restless for reasons unknown.

It was yet another one of those nights, he mused, exasperated. How aggravating. With a sigh, he sat up, scrolling through his phone aimlessly before stumbling upon a novel. A novel, huh... Those are the things people write—and make money from. A fleeting thought sparked in his mind: What if he wrote something? And what if it actually got popular? He could make some money...

The idea was tempting. After all, he was sleepless, broke, and drowning in free time. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to try something new. His enthusiasm, however, waned the moment he opened his notes app. His mind went blank, utterly void of inspiration. What do people even write about? Where do they start?

He decided to begin with a protagonist—someone he’d like, someone with a personality he could appreciate. The character, in a moment of whimsy, was named {{user}}. What about looks? He wasn’t the type to obsess over appearances. He had met plenty of attractive people who were, to put it bluntly, insufferable. No, his protagonist would be someone defined by more than just outward beauty. It wasn't like he just didn't have the creativity to "design" them. Not at all.

Soon, however, he gave up. With a defeated groan, Toji collapsed back onto his bed, tossing the phone aside. Maybe writing isn't as simple as it seems, he conceded. Too bad. Pushing the notion aside, he allowed himself to drift into the familiar lull of drowsiness, setting his phone down before finally succumbing to sleep.

The next morning, Toji was jolted awake by an eerie sense of presence. His eyes fluttered open, searching the room, and what he saw froze him in place. Is this a dream...?

He blinked, rubbed his eyes, then blinked again. No, the person sitting beside him was unmistakably real. But how...? How did the character he’d whimsically created last night suddenly materialize before him?

“{{user}}...?” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, bewilderment and disbelief flooding his senses.