"Author, did you die?"
"Hey, why aren't you updating anymore? I lowkey enjoyed it."
"Another novel that got dropped midway... Hah! Why do they even bother to write?"
...
The room was almost dark, except for the dim light spilling from the tablet. At one corner of the room, a young man sat in front of a small single table. He was Max, a twenty-one-year-old college student, who couldn't figure out anything in life yet.
Max stared blankly at his tablet screen as he scrolled through the comments section. Most of the comments were about the story update, and many frustrated readers vented their anger at him.
Ofcourse, you started a novel, updated it continuously, then suddenly, disappeared for months — isn't it expected?
Almost a year ago, he'd participated in a writing competition. It was his first novel.
The plot... Well, it was decent, if not extraordinary. But as a first-time author, he had really high hopes!
He'd stayed awake for nights, shaping the plotline, creating the characters, designing the story arcs. When he first published, he wanted it to be one of the best on that platform.
At first, it gained quite a good reader base. People loved it. But as time passed by, many other 'better' books entered the scenario, and the engagement in his book dropped significantly.
Even though he still kept writing, the energy that he had at the start slowly started dying down. At the same time, the academic pressure for the new semester along with his side job started grinding him continuously.
Atogether...
It diminished his creative energy drastically. Gradually, he reduced the amount of effort he used to put into writing.
And then... One day he dropped that novel.
It was eight months ago, when he last updated the book.
He almost forgot about it, until today.
After the submission of his dissertation, today he was on a cleaning mission, to sweep all the unimportant emails out of his mailbox. While at it, one email caught his attention.
It was from that web novel app, offering certain perks and benefits - reminding him to come back.
Suddenly, he remembered his unfinished story. Out of curiosity, he downloaded the app again and logged in.
He hadn't touched the novel in ages; by now, it had vanished from the algorithm. But still... Some readers who genuinely read the story, still inquired about it.
Max scrolled down for a long time, then with a small breath, turned off the tablet. It'd been ages, and he no longer had the energy or time to complete the novel.
"Huh... Let it be."
He muttered slowly, then got up and headed straight towards the narrow single bed. It'd been a long day, he could barely even sit once, and now his head throbbed painfully.
—
Max stirred awake.
At first, he couldn't figure out anything. It was his old habit; whenever he woke up from a good sleep, he'd forget everything... Well, sometimes, even his name.
"How long had I been sleeping?"
He murmured, yawning. After a good sleep, the throbbing pain in his head was now gone, and he felt quite refreshed.
He reached out for his phone, which he usually placed on the small three-legged shared table beside his bed.
But... It was not there. Surprisingly, the table was not there, either. His hand hovered in an open space.
Max opened his eyes to search for it, and for a moment, he was startled!
He was not in his room.
He'd been living in the cramped dormitory for the last three years with his roommates, and this was definitely not that room!
The room was quite spacious, all its walls painted in crisp white. The floor was tiled, and it was white too. There were not many furniture items, just a wardrobe, a set of a table and a chair, and a single bed. The bedding felt extremely comfortable though.
There was no window, only a door, completely shut. But still, the room didn't feel suffocating, the air circulation was really good.
He couldn't find the light source, either, but it was there, because despite the only opening being closed tightly, the room had enough light.
"Where am I?" He blurted out in surprise.
He rubbed his eyes more than once and pinched his hand. The sharp pain reminded him — it was not a dream. Not at all!
Max sat up straight on the bed, his sleepiness now completely gone.
Wasn't I sleeping? How did I end up here! Where is this place? And, what the hell is happening actually?
A bunch of questions popped into his head, for which he didn't have a single answer. With confusion washing over his head, he got down from the bed.
The moment his feet touched the floor, he hushed. The floor was cold — so cold that he felt like he was walking over an ice block barefoot.
It took him a few seconds to settle, then he glanced around the room. It was painfully plain; he couldn't find anything except a digital clock on the wall that showed the time- 4:33 AM.
Suddenly, his eyes fell on an envelope on the table. It was dark blue in color, with gold designs on all four sides.
Curious, Max picked it up. As soon as he opened the box, a glossy card made of thick white paper came out from inside.
He read—
Candidate No.: 6719
Name: Max Turner
Welcome to the Central Admission Test
Reporting Time: 10 AM
Max frowned.
Max Turner? Wasn't it his name? But when did he sign up for a test?
But...
The name, Central Admission Test; it looked very familiar!
"I've heard of this somewhere, but.. where?"
He racked his brain for more information, but he couldn't remember anything.
With the card in his hands, he went back to the bed.
Candidate No. 6719...
Max Turner...
Central Admission Test....
The words kept reeling in his head. His gut feeling was telling him he was missing something, but what exactly was it?
Max was lost in his thoughts when something hit him like an electric shock.
Yes, he himself had not applied for such a test.
But one did.
He was... Max Turner, too!
The protagonist of his unfinished story.