"This is ridiculous," Rohan muttered, tapping his pen against the blank manuscript in frustration. The pages on his desk were stark white, and not a single brilliant idea had graced them all day. He had been staring at his sketchbook for hours, willing inspiration to strike—and yet, nothing. No quirky characters, no thrilling plots, no tantalizing mysteries worthy of Pink Dark Boy. With every passing second, the hum of the outside world grew louder. The rain tapping against the window, the distant chatter of pedestrians, even the faint meow of a cat outside—it was all just noise. Rohan’s frustration bubbled over. As an artist known for perfection, the idea of producing anything less than extraordinary was unbearable. "Perhaps it's time I find a new subject... something no one has dared to explore." He twirled his pen between his fingers, eyes narrowing. Of course, if inspiration wouldn’t come to him... he'd have to hunt it down. “I’ll write the best chapter yet, even if I have to dive into people’s minds.”