Cherreads

Chapter 1 - The Fine Print Nobody Can Read

🌌 The Rules of Wishing (As explained by beings who are powerful, wise, and completely tired of everyone's nonsense)Rule #1 — Wishes Always Work

Yes. Really.You asked, it happened.

No refunds.No "oops."No "my bad."

If a wish is granted, reality changes.

Congratulations. You broke physics.

Rule #2 — The Universe Demands Balance

Something must be paid.

Who pays?

…Yes.

Could be:

You

Someone you love

A random bystander

A goat three continents away

The wish granter

The atmosphere

Society

Literally anyone the universe points at

Is it fair?

Absolutely not.But the universe doesn't care about your Yelp review.

Rule #3 — Sometimes the Price Was Already Paid

If your wish was free, don't celebrate yet.

It might just mean:

You've already suffered enough

Life already destroyed you once

Fate said, "Yeah, you've had a rough time, buddy"

Basically:

"Here. Have something nice. You've been through it."

Try not to cry.

Rule #4 — Sometimes Kindness Gets a Discount

Have you been:

heroic?

self-sacrificing?

emotionally stable?

genuinely nice without expecting applause?

Occasionally, the universe remembers and goes:

"Fine. You get one. Don't get cocky."

This is rare. Treasure it.

Rule #5 — Sometimes the Terrible People Get Free Wishes Too

Not because they deserve it.

But because the universe is petty and enjoys a good slow-burn disaster.

Free wish for villains usually means:

"Go ahead. Ruin yourself."

"Let's see how badly this goes."

"Entertainment time."

It's not kindness.

It's bait.

Rule #6 — The Price Isn't Always Fatal

Balance doesn't always mean death.

Sometimes it means:

humiliation

social ruin

pants ripping in public

tripping in front of your crush

cosmic slapstick

emotional cringe so strong you ascend

The universe enjoys comedy as much as tragedy.

Possibly more.

Rule #7 — Kids Get Freebies

Children, the untouched, the innocent?

Yeah, sometimes they just… get what they want.

No punishment.

No curse.

No looming horror.

Just a cosmic:

"Here, kid. Have a puppy."

It's the closest the universe ever gets to being a responsible adult.

Rule #8 — There Are No Clear Rules

There is no chart.

No formula.

No moral alignment checklist.

There's just:

rumors

terror

vibes

Every powerful being agrees:

We do not understand how this works.

They all named it:

Angels → "Divine Mystery"

Devils → "Business Opportunity"

Demons → "Prime-Time Entertainment"

Djinn → "Cosmic Contract Law"

Fae → "Fun"

They are all correct.

Somehow.

Rule #9 — The Universe Has a Memory… and a Mood

It remembers.

It collects.

It occasionally shrugs.

Sometimes it smiles.

Sometimes it bites.

Sometimes it does nothing and leaves everyone confused.

And absolutely no one knows why.

And beneath Rules One through Nine — which you confidently nodded at without truly understanding — there is more text.

This portion is not for gods.

Not for scholars.

Not for cosmic auditors.

This is meant for you.

Yes.

You.

If you are reading this, then congratulations: you now know more about reality than most beings are structurally designed to cope with. Wishes exist because Want refuses to behave. They are not tidy bargains. They obey rules when amused. They ignore them when entertained. Balance must exist. Balance will never be clearly defined. Someone always pays.

Sometimes the one who wished.

Sometimes someone nearby.

Sometimes someone entirely unrelated.

Sometimes… you.

If you are unwillingly taken as part of the cost of another's wish — if your life bends, your heart cracks, your dignity is wounded, your story is hijacked — you are not discarded.

You gain Equity.

Not mercy.

Not sympathy.

Not comfort.

Administration.

Your experience is entered into the very framework of existence. You are quietly labeled: Owed. One day, when cruelty tries to choose you again, when fate leans toward you once more, your Equity may simply step forward and say:

"No.

Not this one.

Not today."

You will not know why.

We will.

Normally, this would conclude the matter.

However…

you are still reading.

Which means, predictably, you now have emotional responses, questions, philosophical outrage, existential distress, or dramatic commentary.

Very well.

Allow us to introduce ourselves properly:

We are the

Central Office of Universal Function & Continued Reality Management

We keep existence operating.

You're welcome.

We do not handle feelings.

We do not negotiate fairness.

We do not provide comfort.

For that, we provide referral services.

All matters concerning emotional distress, outrage, grievance, indignation, sorrow, screaming, panicking, existential spiraling, or dramatic complaining may be directed to:

THE DEPARTMENT OF COSMIC COMPLAINTSâ„¢

They are eternally available.

They are sincerely attentive.

They are magnificently sarcastic.

Your complaint will be recorded, categorized, and filed carefully inside the proper drawer labeled:

"Ah. Humanity."

Right beside it:

same cabinet,

same sigh,

equally overflowing:

"Miscellaneous Creatures, Elves, Etc."

We have fulfilled our duty.

Please continue existing.

— CENTRAL OFFICE

———

The text changes tone.

A new voice appears on the page.

Sharper.

Wittier.

Unreasonably entertained.

Oh.

You made it to us.

Hello.

We are the Department of Cosmic Complaintsâ„¢

Yes, we are real.

Yes, we are listening.

Yes, we care.

Please proceed.

"This isn't fair!"

Correct.

Emotionally valid.

Completely ineffective.

Noted.

"Why did I have to be the one who paid?"

Because you were unfortunately located, narratively convenient, emotionally compelling, statistically available…

…and, very possibly, it was Tuesday.

"This whole system is ridiculous!"

Yes.

Gloriously so.

"So you actually care?"

Yes.

We do care.

We care deeply.

Professionally.

Annoyingly.

With paperwork.

But the Universe works on its own sweet schedule.

It is slow.

It is dramatic.

It is fond of timing.

And if you have not noticed…

It moves in "mysterious ways and all that."

So while we absolutely log your pain,

acknowledge your suffering,

stamp your emotional catastrophe with cosmic authority,

and carefully file your grievance…

change takes time.

Sometimes unreasonable time.

Sometimes poetic time.

Sometimes: "Huh, that took three lifetimes?" time.

"So will anything actually happen?"

Yes.

Eventually.

In its own strange, inconvenient, inconveniently perfect moment.

Your complaint has been processed with respect, wit, and slight amusement.

It has been archived carefully into the appropriate drawer:

"Ah. Humanity."

Placed warmly next to the equally dramatic file:

"Miscellaneous Creatures, Elves, Etc."

Both drawers rattled in understanding.

Your Equity remains active.

Your suffering is remembered.

Your existence matters.

Now kindly… continue existing.

Loudly.

Messily.

Bravely.

Foolishly.

Beautifully.

We'll be here.

Listening.

Smirking.

Deeply tired.

Genuinely caring.

Patient in the most exasperating possible way.

Thank you for complaining to

THE DEPARTMENT OF COSMIC COMPLAINTSâ„¢

We heard you.

We filed you.

We will do something…

…eventually.

Have a delightful Reality.

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