FIN.

Faced with this situation, my first thought wasn't how to prove my innocence, but how to explain my book-eating behavior.

So, I opened another book and ate the passage about the witness's sudden death

Everything that followed matched the plot I had eaten—people screaming, cars braking suddenly, a crowd gathering around the elderly woman, bewilderedly making phone calls.

Just then, someone happened to look up and, unfortunately, made eye contact with me at the window.

So, I ate the book.

I expected diarrhea, expected nausea, but nothing happened. The only strange thing was that after eating the book, an elderly woman appeared outside my window, took out a small booklet from her neck, turned around, and jumped from the thirteenth floor of the public housing.

If I eat a novel, I become a monster that destroys worlds.

I could also be an observer outside the miniature garden, eating plot points when bored or delighted, even eating first-appearing background characters.

I've never eaten paper written with fountain pen ink, but I imagine the taste would be similar, with the only difference being whether there's a story behind it.

The taste of books is peculiar, different from the childhood taste of paper notes we stuffed in our mouths to hide from teachers.

It has a unique ink flavor. This flavor is sophisticated, more refined than the carbon taste of 1-dollar pencils or the taste of 5-dollar pens.

FIN.

If I really have to blame someone, I can only blame someone I've never met in my life.

Rather amusing when you think about it.

See?

In such an environment, both inbreeding and wife-sharing were common occurrences.

By the time they began giving birth to increasingly ill children, it was already too late. However, lacking medical knowledge, people didn't realize their mistakes, including my great-great-grandfather.

My ancestral home was in one of these settlements. With a population of less than a hundred, men often fought over women, while women silently waited—waited to become someone's trophy.

To adapt to such an environment, people there survived by hunting, coexisting with nature through a semi-settled, semi-nomadic lifestyle.

My ancestral home is in the north. Not the kind of north like Keelung is to Taipei, but across the Sea of Japan, even further north than Sapporo. The climate there is harsh, and the already barren land is covered with coniferous forests and fir trees, making agriculture essentially impossible.

It all begins with my ancestral home.

謝ㄍ，我真的好喜歡畫手喔
最近在想Q版有沒有更可愛的畫法！

我也可以把你畫萌萌

Totally agree. This always happens when I'm already tucked in bed😭