Tom felt the world fade. When he opened his eyes again, he was in the dreamspace.
It looked the same as before — endless void, floating table, the faint echo of silence.
He sat down, holding the pen. The moment the tip touched paper, his senses expanded.It was strange — as if he could see what he was writing becoming real in another layer of existence.
He could watch entire worlds take shape under his words.
It was thrilling. Terrifying. Addictive.
"Alright," Tom whispered. "Let's write something simple first."
He wrote:
A boy named Tom, born on Earth, year 20XX, May 7.His father got a civil service job. He was smart, handsome, and perfect in every way.By high school, he was an exceptional student — top in grades, sports, and fighting.A girl named Emilia confessed to him, and he accepted.Later, he started a gaming company called Microhard, became rich, married Emilia, had two kids, and lived happily ever after.The End.
The words began to glow. They spun around Tom and slowly sank into him.
A faint notification appeared in his mind:[Mental Power +0.1]
Tom blinked. "What? Only 0.1?"
Frustration boiled inside him. He wrote again — different versions, different worlds.In some, he was a hero. In others, a villain.
But the result was the same. +0.1.No more.
He slammed the pen on the table. "What's wrong with these stories?"
Before he could wake up, the dreamspace shifted.Larry appeared.
"Why did you call me here?" Tom asked.
Larry's tone was grim. "Because The Who is getting suspicious. One of his pens is missing. No new stories have reached him for days, and he's searching through the authors — and their characters — to find it."
Tom's expression darkened. "So I need to hide."
Larry nodded. "Be careful. If any author sees that pen, or anything impossible, they'll report you — and he'll find you."
Tom took a deep breath. "Alright. I'll be cautious. But I have a question."
Larry folded his arms. "Go ahead."
"Why are my stories giving me such low mental power?"
Larry smirked faintly. "Because they're simple. Shallow. The richer and more complex a story is — with mystery, emotion, conflict, and purpose — the stronger your mental power becomes."
Tom frowned. "So I have to write real stories… not fantasies."
Larry nodded. "Exactly. Don't write for comfort. Write for truth."
Tom lowered his gaze. "Understood."
When he woke, the first thing he did was stare at the blank page on his desk."How do I write a story… that feels real?"