Not heroically. Not even villainously. Just... forgotten.
I remembered dying.
Hải Đông sat beside me on the edge of the stage, legs dangling over the abyss of unread chapters. xuyen thanh nam the phao hoi cua nhan vat phan dien ebook
And I saw them.
Thin, silver, luminous threads stretched from my wrists, my ankles, my throat—disappearing into the darkness above. Puppet strings. And at the end of each string… a hand. Not heroically
“The first time,” he said quietly, “I killed you because the script said ‘the hero must overcome his greatest temptation.’ You were the temptation. I hated myself. But the readers loved it.”
The thread dissolved into light. For one second—just one—I felt free . No script. No expectation. No reader watching. forgotten
“Triệt,” he whispered. “Not again. Please. Not this ending again.”