Kill the Author, Then to Hell - Chapter 3.1

I quietly decided that I absolutely should not choose any of the books piled up into a tower on the counter.

Trying to sway her with the gentlest tone I could muster, I said,

“Wow, you really know a lot! But the kind of book I’m looking for is a bit… different.”

“What kind are you looking for?”

I pondered over what criteria to set to ensure I got a decent book and then said,

“Firstly, I’d like it to be set in a world with magic.”

That was a lifelong dream I couldn’t give up on.

“And either a happy ending or at least an open one.”

The child in front of me rolled her eyes to the ceiling, clearly disappointed.

Yeah, at that age, ordinary happiness isn’t appealing. But having lived a bit, I’ve found ordinary happiness to be the best.

Then I added another condition after thinking about what might be missing.

“Oh, and I absolutely must be the protagonist.”

Even if it’s a happy ending, if I’m just a passing extra or a doomed villain, my life isn’t guaranteed. Besides…

‘I deserve to be the protagonist at least once.’

I’ve spent my life as a background character – Pedestrian 1, Student 7, Office Worker 23. I couldn’t miss this opportunity.

But as soon as the word ‘protagonist’ left my mouth,

The child reverted to the bored expression I saw when I first met her.

“Humans are always like this, aren’t they? Protagonist, protagonist. Happiness, happiness. How can everyone’s imagination be so limited?”

She moved back behind the counter, murmuring gruffly.

“Sorry, but there’s none.”

“None?”

“You think you’re the only one who comes here? How many people die each day with <Stories> left in them. Everyone who comes here just looks for a protagonist’s role. They all die without even properly finishing their original <Story>. So all those kinds of stories are long gone.”

“<Stories>… are left in them?”

According to the enigmatic young girl, not everyone who dies comes here. Only those with remaining <Stories> get such an opportunity.

Everyone is born with a certain amount of a <Story>, like a phone battery that keeps you going until it’s all used up.

“So, how much of a <Story> do I have left?”

The child smirked. In that moment, her youthful face seemed covered with layers of age and wisdom, not looking young at all.

“Who knows? No one can tell until they’ve lived it all.”

“….”

Lost in thought for a moment, the child again seemed ready to dive back into her book, speaking offhandedly.

“Hurry up and choose. There’s not much time left before the next person comes.”

“Wait!”

She looked up at me as if saying, ‘What now?’ It was my last chance.

“There’s really none? Not even one hidden away? Or accidentally dropped somewhere?”

I had to beg. Enough with the boring, painful, and uneventful stories. If I were to live again, I wanted it to be different this time.

“Hmm.”

Her contemplation was a good sign.

“I promise I’ll do really well this time. Please…”

Throwing all pride aside, I clung to the sleeve of my savior with purple pigtails.

“Now that I think of it… there is just one, yeah, there’s that one.”

“Yes, yes, yes! I’ll do it!”

“Okay, okay, just let go of me, will you?”

The savior with purple pigtails rummaged through the drawers behind and at the sides, making a ruckus, and finally pulled something out.

What appeared before me wasn’t so much a book as it was a stack of A4 papers stapled together, resembling a manuscript. Typed in a typewriter font, the first page read:

<Untitled>

Below that, in smaller letters, the typed name <NanNa> was probably the author’s name.

Of course, the rest was, as expected, blank.

“Just to let you know, this hasn’t been completed yet. Umm, it’s a manuscript on a long hiatus due to the author’s circumstances, I guess?”

The child seemed somewhat bashful saying this.

“But! It fits your conditions. It’s set in a world of magic, you are the protagonist, and a happy ending… well, that’s definitely on the table. Nothing’s impossible here.”

Before selecting the story that would determine my future life, I took a moment for one last careful consideration.

‘The fact that it’s not a guaranteed happy ending is a bit concerning….’

But after hearing the plots of the other stories in this rental shop, an open ending seemed far more appealing than a mass-extermination ending.

Seeing my hesitation, the child started to sweeten the deal like a market vendor throwing in some extras.

“Ah, I don’t usually do this, but since you seem like a nice person, I’ll give you a special protagonist <Buff>.”