Burp~
Dave let out a loud belch as he collapsed onto his bed, patting his stomach with a satisfied groan. "Fuck, I ate too much," he muttered, running his hand over his bloated belly.
He sighed and reached for his phone on the bedside table.
Today had been a well-earned victory. He'd finally wrapped up the office project—a task that had been dumped on him entirely, thanks to his useless excuse of a team. Instead of helping out with their own work, they'd been off assisting other departments, leaving Dave to carry the weight.
But justice, for once, had eyes. Their department manager had been keeping a close watch and had seen Dave burning the midnight oil, night after night. When the project was done, it was crystal clear who had done the heavy lifting.
The manager had even said Dave would be promoted to team lead starting next month. A huge win.
And like any self-respecting, overworked, 26-year-old single guy, Dave decided there was only one proper way to celebrate: food. Lots of it.
He'd ordered his favorite—mutton curry with rice—and demolished two full plates like a man on a mission. Now he lay sprawled out, stomach heavy, satisfied, and feeling just a little bit like he might explode.
He unlocked his phone and opened his favorite web novel app, eager to check for new chapters of the series he was following.
Dave had fallen into the world of novels, manga, and anime when he was sixteen—ever since he stumbled onto that gateway to escapism. And man, he'd been hooked ever since.
Reality? It was a pain in the ass, plain and simple. Not unbearable, not nightmarish... just draining. Exhausting in that slow, quiet way that wears you down year after year.
While others drowned their worries in alcohol or late-night parties, Dave had chosen a different path—the path walked by countless other introverts and dreamers. He escaped into stories. Into fantasy worlds and 2D characters. It was how he coped. How he stayed sane.
He lived alone now. His parents had died in a car accident not long after he'd started working—three years ago, maybe four. Time blurred when you were just surviving.
He still missed them. Sometimes the grief crept in late at night, in the quiet moments between distractions. But when it did, he'd bury himself in anime or a web novel binge. That always helped dull the ache. After all, the dead don't come back. There's no point drowning in sorrow for someone who isn't coming home.
Love? Romance? That door had been closed a while ago.
It wasn't like he'd never thought about dating. Back in college, there was a girl. Simple, sweet, and in his eyes, impossibly beautiful. For a time, he'd thought about confessing—he won't lie about that. He'd fantasized about a future, about building something real.
Then he found out what she was really like.
He wouldn't speak ill of her. Let's just say she wasn't who he thought she was. The experience left a scar. Not heartbreak, exactly—he hadn't even confessed—but disillusionment. A quiet, lingering distrust.
These days, romance existed only in fiction. In the glass display cases lining the walls of his room—filled with meticulously arranged figurines of women, men, and even mecha from his favorite series.
To others, it might look sad or obsessive. To Dave, it brought peace. A weird kind of satisfaction. These characters were unchanging. Safe. Beautiful in their own crafted perfection. They never lied, never betrayed, never left.
His yearning for real-world romance had long since faded.
Now he was just waiting for technology to finally catch up—to reach the point where android waifus could be a reality. Because real women?
Too unpredictable.
Too dangerous.
"Fuck, still nothing? What the hell happened to the author? Is he okay?"
Dave cursed under his breath, groaning as he stared at the screen. The latest chapter was still the same one he'd read two days ago. No update.
Again.
He didn't know what was going on. Had the author dropped the novel like so many others? It wouldn't be the first time. Ever since people had gotten the ability to post stories online, this kind of thing happened more and more. Some writers got readers hooked and then vanished—sometimes with a reason, sometimes without even a goodbye.
He'd even supported a few of those authors when he could. Not much—he was broke more often than not—but enough to feel like he was helping in some way. And yeah, he got early chapters in return. It was a win-win.
He wasn't pretending to be some saint or patron of the arts. He just didn't want the stories he loved to disappear.
Sighing, he tapped open another novel in his library. Still no update.
"Fuck. This one too?"
No new chapters on either of the series he was following. What the hell was going on today? The day had started off great, but this was just bad luck stacked on more bad luck.
Ring ring…
His phone buzzed in his hand, the shrill ringtone making his eye twitch. He glanced at the screen.
Department manager.
His brows furrowed, but he answered anyway.
"Hello?"
"Hey Dave," came the voice on the other end, "can you come into the office at 6 a.m. tomorrow?"
Dave blinked. "Six a.m.?"
"Yeah," the manager said, his tone way too casual for that ungodly hour. "Some overseas investors are flying in early. They want to see the recent project results—specifically the one your team finished."
Dave cut him off. "Wait, wait, wait. Manager, tomorrow's a holiday. And that stuff's not even my job. Investor relations? That's someone else's department."
A tired sigh came from the other end. "I get it, I really do. But your teammates—well, they told me they don't even understand the project well enough to talk about it. Since you did most of the work, you're the only one who can explain it properly."
Of course they did.
Those useless bastards didn't help him one bit during the project, and now they were trying to throw everything on him again. Dave clenched his teeth, the anger bubbling.
"Even so," he said, forcing calm into his voice, "there's no way I'm getting there by six. Seven, maybe seven-thirty, that's the best I can do."
To his surprise, the manager didn't push. "Oh, okay. That's fine. Just get here as quick as you can, alright? Thanks, Dave."
Click.
The line went dead.
Dave stared at the phone screen, his thumb twitching as the urge to hurl the device across the room spiked hard. First, no novel updates. Now this bullshit.
Haah…
He let out a long breath and dropped the phone onto the nightstand, then switched off the lamp. The room went dark.
There was no point getting pissed anymore. No one cared, and the world sure as hell wasn't going to change for him.
All he could do now was sleep. If he didn't, he'd be even more miserable when he dragged himself to the office tomorrow morning.