At -Park Street 78, an old house stands, its weathered exterior telling the story of years gone by. The wood beneath it is cracked and worn, the foundation barely holding together. The stairs groan loudly with each step, as if complaining about the weight they bear. Despite its humble appearance, the house holds a quiet, eerie charm, as if it has secrets hidden in its corners. It's a place for those who have little yet seem to carry something more unsettling.
Inside the house, the room is cramped and disordered. A small table sits piled high with crumpled papers, each covered in hasty scribbles. Empty noodle cups and scattered snack wrappers lie carelessly across the floor. Amidst the clutter, a bed takes up most of the space, where a figure lies sleeping, unaware of the chaos surrounding them. The bed covers are tangled, and the entire room, though small, feels overwhelmed by the mess.
Amid the blaring alarm reading at 8:30 AM, the figure stirs, groggily waking up. With a tired sigh, he runs a hand through his messy hair before reluctantly dragging himself out of bed. Moving sluggishly, he steps into the bathroom, splashing cold water onto his face before a quick shower. The half-fogged mirror reflects a weary face—dark circles beneath those dull eyes, unkempt beard growing unevenly, and an overall disheveled appearance. After getting ready quickly, he grabs his files—the only neatly arranged things in the room—before leaving.
Tavian Nox, a little-known writer, started his writing journey 11 years ago at the age of 26. Like many new writers, he was full of enthusiasm and confidence, unaware of the difficulties ahead. Coming from a wealthy family, he had financial support and worked hard to create stories, submitting them to various publishers. However, rejection after rejection followed. Over time, he spent all his family's money chasing his dream. When his funds ran out, his family cut ties with him, frustrated by his choices. Left on his own, Tavian desperately approached publishers, repeatedly facing disappointment.
For five years, he struggled, often begging for a chance. Finally, a comic writer accepted one of his scripts. It was not a major success, but it was his first step forward in the writing world. What truly changed things for Tavian was two years after his comic was published. An award-winning famous movie featured a brief scene of that comic. Though it lasted only a few seconds, the exposure caused his work to suddenly gain attention. Within six months, he started earning a bit of money. Soon after, a publisher contacted him, offering him a job. Though the salary wasn't great, it was a stable start to his writing career.
For the next three and a half years, Tavian experienced many ups and downs. There were small successes, but also constant struggles. The publishing industry was unpredictable, making it hard for him to feel secure. However, things recently took a turn for the worse. The situation at his publishing company grew more chaotic, and problems piled up. What once seemed like a promising career was now becoming more unstable with each passing day. It felt as if he could be thrown out of the publication at any moment. Desperate, he spent weeks trying to come up with a new story, pushing his mind to its limits.
The file he carried today contained his latest draft—the one that would determine his fate. After walking for some time, he finally arrived at the publication. The building was plain and unremarkable, much like his current situation.
As he stood at the entrance, he found himself rethinking his decision to become a writer for what felt like the hundredth time. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the publisher's door. Before he could step inside, he heard loud shouting from inside. The publisher was arguing over the phone, his voice filled with frustration.
Tavian sighed. Luck had never been on his side, but today, it seemed to be even worse than usual. Sighing at his endless bad luck, Tavian braced himself for whatever awaited him.