Brian Carter patted him on the shoulder and didn’t say much more. Although none of them had ever talked about their family backgrounds, David Bolton used to deliver food, so his circumstances didn’t seem great. Brian Carter didn’t think he could be of much help, but that’s not what friendship is about anyway: “Just do your job well, let’s have a drink when we have time. We can still chat nonsense in the group, and since we’re in the same city, it’s not like we’re saying goodbye.”

“Alright, I wish Mr. Carter huge success with this book!” David Bolton hesitated for a moment, then lowered his voice and said, “That girl next door, if you can talk to her, try to give her some advice. Accompanying men for drinks is… well, forget it, who am I to say anything about that.”

With that, he picked up his suitcase and left.

Maybe David Bolton wanted to wait until he became successful to talk to that girl, but unfortunately, nothing ever started, and it all ended without a trace.

Returning alone to his rented apartment, Brian Carter stood by the window and let out a long sigh.

Over the years, he’d seen too many writers leave the scene in disappointment. He thought he’d gotten used to it, but when it happened to a real-life friend, it still made his heart feel heavy.

Especially since the reason for leaving wasn’t David Bolton’s own fault, but the ever-present malice of petty people in this world. That made it even harder to accept.

People say this line of work is for the unemployed, and at least in one respect, they’re not wrong—it’s just too unstable.

A single, far-fetched report, almost like a literary inquisition, could destroy years of someone’s hard work and dreams.

He didn’t know if he’d be the next one to leave… As a harem novel writer, he’d never had fewer reports to deal with than anyone else. He truly felt it—when the rabbit dies, the fox grieves.

Looking around, the two-bedroom apartment that once felt too small now seemed so empty and cold. When David Bolton was here, it felt like they barely talked, as if it didn’t matter whether he was there or not. But as soon as he left, the boundless loneliness immediately began to spread.

From now on, he really wouldn’t even have anyone to talk to.

Maybe he should look for another roommate… but that depends on fate. Not every roommate would get along as well as David Bolton, and if you’re unlucky, it could just be a headache.

As he was thinking this, a chill brushed his neck—a long sword was pressed against the side of his neck, and Henry Clark’s voice came coldly: “That line you wrote—are you seeking death?”

Brian Carter didn’t turn around. He stood quietly for a moment, exhaled, and suddenly smiled: “Thank you… you came at just the right time.”

Henry Clark: “?”

Chapter 8: My Name is Brian Carter

Henry Clark had never imagined this guy would say something like that.

She felt that today’s Creator God was different from last night. Last night, even though he said “there’s no use panicking,” she could still sense the nervous fear in his heart.

After all, he really was just an ordinary person. For an ordinary person to have a sword at his neck and still manage to keep calm on the surface was already a sign of strong nerves.

But today, it seemed completely gone. Not only was there no fear, there was even a bit of joy, like seeing a family member, and a touch of melancholy.

What was going on?

“You said before that you don’t need a sword to kill me, so put it away.” Brian Carter said calmly, “I don’t remember ever writing that you like to hold a sword to people’s necks. Usually, you’d just strike directly. If you’re holding it like this, it means you don’t really want to kill.”

“……” Henry Clark was a little frustrated to realize that the person who understood her best in this world might not be herself, but this Creator God. This time, she didn’t put down the sword, and said coldly, “So I have to do whatever you write?”

“Maybe that was true before.” Brian Carter finally turned around and gave her a slight smile. “But since you don’t want to, let’s discuss things together from now on.”

Henry Clark frowned.

“The moment you appeared, I vaguely sensed a plotline.” Brian Carter said, “Outside of the scenes I wrote, when no one else knows, Henry Clark is attempting her first tribulation—that’s why you showed up this time, right?”

Henry Clark took a deep breath.

He really could sense what she was doing, not just what he wrote.

Truly the power of a god. But he was clearly just an ordinary person… How exactly were these threads connected?

“Isn’t this really dangerous for you?” Brian Carter said softly. “Actually, what’s here now is just your divine sense. Your body and soul are separated by worlds, which could cause your soul to have no anchor and dissipate in time and space. Even during the crossing, you could get caught in the chaos of time and space and be ground to dust.”

Henry Clark sneered, “It’s your world, you make the rules.”

Brian Carter shook his head. “I never set that up, because there was no related plot… Maybe there are rules between worlds themselves, that’s what they call the dimensional wall. But I think I can patch it, make it easier for you to come over, so you don’t have to take such risks.”

This time, Henry Clark was truly shocked: “You really want to help me come out?”

“To be honest, I really admire you.” Brian Carter said slowly. “I can’t even control the success or failure of a single book, and I’m powerless when I see friends leave in disappointment. I can’t imagine, if I were you, and discovered that everything about me was just a story in a book, that the world’s reality was uncertain, that my fate was manipulated by others, and even my past thoughts and actions were written by someone else—would any of it still count as my own? Are my memories real or fake? Faced with such a worldview-shattering confusion, I’d go mad. You want to take control of your own fate, and that’s only natural… Don’t talk about fighting and killing, I’ll help you.”