DKIE CH8: Immersion

Cullen flipped through the manuscript with his gem-encrusted ring hand.

Curiosity kills the cat. By the time he finished the first paragraph, his expression had already become subtle.

Although every word was written in the common language of the continent, when strung together, it felt as difficult to digest as gnawing on bones. Yet, he forced himself to read on.

After finishing the first paragraph, Cullen raised his head and asked, “Who’s the protagonist?”

Luka blinked.

The esteemed Guild Master… has such poor reading comprehension?

As he continued reading, Cullen quickly found the answer: “Oh, it’s the beast.”

“…” Beast your whole family.

“Why didn’t the beast just eat it directly? And isn’t the description of the prey a bit excessive? Also, the hunting process of a newborn creature… it’s not thrilling at all.”

Luka maintained a mysterious smile. “Keep reading.”

When Cullen reached the part where even the food had detailed appearance descriptions, a sense of foreboding crept into his heart.

He couldn’t bear to continue and handed the manuscript to Covert Guard No. 7 to read aloud.

“From here,” Cullen pointed.

At first, Covert Guard No. 7 didn’t grasp the gravity of the situation.

Until he skimmed through the previous plot.

A flash of disdain crossed his eyes.

With a perfectly enunciated tone, Covert Guard No. 7 read aloud:
“…In a panic, it clumsily broke off a piece of eggshell and handed it over…”

Covert Guard No. 7 opened his mouth wide: “A——”

Luka, who was eating, also opened his mouth: “Ah——”

The scene overlapped perfectly.

Cullen’s hand, holding the cup, froze. He snapped coldly, “Ah what?”

Covert Guard No. 7 looked aggrieved: “That’s exactly how it’s written.”

Cullen, embodying the spirit of a perfect critic, immediately pointed out ten flaws in a single sentence:

“A newborn creature’s natural reaction upon seeing a beast is fear and retreat. Vomiting out of terror is a common trope. How could it possibly eat so boldly and even say ‘Ah’?”

Also, whose eggshell tastes like milk? They’re all fishy, aren’t they?

The one suffering the most was the quill pen, which wished it could grow two more feathers to cover its ears.

Listening to someone read his own novel aloud, Luka maintained a calm and gentle smile, but his curled toes were almost digging through the soles of his shoes.

Because this wasn’t a confidential meeting, there were still a few servants standing nearby.

Their expressions were… beyond words.

“Hic.”

 Covert Guard No. 7’s lips trembled as he almost slipped up, but he forced himself to continue reading:

“…The little creature… the little creature… hiccupped after drinking milk and hurriedly covered its mouth with its tiny claws.”

Cullen fell silent for a full three seconds.

“And then? Did it get eaten?”

Covert Guard No. 7 replied, “The beast, who hadn’t felt emotional fluctuations for years, suddenly felt its heart soften.”

“???”

At that very moment, Luka poured the entire serving of beast milk into his magic bean drink and sipped it with both hands.

The beast milk hadn’t been fully stirred, leaving a thin layer of cream on Luka’s lips.

On an empty stomach, drinking magic beans only made him hungrier.

Luka let out a small, soft milk hiccup.

It was so light and smooth, his voice practically traced a perfect wave pattern.

Cullen: “……”

Quill Pen: “……”

In that moment, they experienced an intense, visceral discomfort.

These two figures, one a current big shot and the other a former great demon, had witnessed countless scenes of carnage and slaughter.
They could remain expressionless in the face of blood and gore.

But this…

This peaceful and innocent scene somehow delivered a mental blow that hit even harder.

Cullen quickly understood why.

Immersion.

Luka’s rare black hair, his seemingly fragile aura, and the little creature in the story…

There was an uncanny resemblance between the two.

Luka: “Do you see it now?”

Cullen instinctively reached for his beloved magic bean drink.

But after seeing Luka’s milk-stained lips, he lost all interest in his favorite beverage.

This kid…

He’s seriously lacking in love.

But just how deprived of affection does one have to be…

To write something so utterly absurd as an act of revenge against society?

Cullen took a deep breath, his narrow eyes glinting with sharpness.
 

“Tell me the truth… is this book written for a very niche audience?”

The merchant’s instincts made him subconsciously consider market positioning.

Luca nodded. “Exclusively for the Dragon race.”

He casually placed the precious space scroll on the table: “If the final results do not meet expectations, consider this scroll as compensation for your time.”

A space scroll was nothing significant to Cullen, but the term “time cost” intrigued him.

Cullen did not immediately make a decision, primarily concerned that once the new book was released, even passersby would spit on it in disgust.
“Publishing a book requires a process. I’ll submit the application first.”
As for when the book number would be issued and when it would be printed, Cullen gave no clear response.

Compared to the book, he was more interested in Luka’s background and origins.

“How to convince distributors to stock and sell this book is also a major issue.”

Cullen further hinted that this book might take a long time to be published.

Luka did not press the issue and even changed the topic: “This fresh cheese tastes good.”

Cullen now couldn’t bear to look at dairy products at all.

After dinner, Luka returned to the previous question Cullen raised: how to get distributors to stock and sell the book.

“A little friendly bet—how about each of us proposes an idea, and by this time tomorrow, we’ll see whose idea is better?”

This was clearly a provocation, essentially trying to get a free marketing idea from Cullen.

Cullen, however, was quite receptive to this. After all, one’s sales strategy reflects their behavioral patterns, which allowed him to make further evaluations.

Luka gradually escalated: “Since it’s a bet, there must be stakes. You decide. I’ll wager my storage ring. If I lose, the compensation for the ring will be void.”

The logic made sense.

However, the storage ring itself was something Luka paid for out of pocket. Cullen gave him a deep look.

Dinner was filled with ulterior motives. Afterward, the griffin escorted Luka back to the guild hall.

Before leaving, Luka even packed a portion of high-quality beast milk.

The quill pen commented, “Are you afraid of not leaving a disgusting impression on others?”

Luka replied calmly, “I don’t know the dining etiquette of nobles. If I don’t distract Cullen with something else, given how meticulous he is, he’d definitely notice my improper manners.”

The quill pen was momentarily stunned.

It suddenly realized that the young man before it, despite possessing the two noblest bloodlines, had never received a single day of true aristocratic education.

Fearing his demonic heritage, no beast in the desolate lands dared to take the lead and kill him.

But bullying and insults were routine. Even in his slumber, he could faintly sense them.

At this thought, the quill pen, which hadn’t felt emotion for a long time, suddenly softened.

0.2 seconds later, it shivered violently.

“Wait… isn’t this exactly the kind of emotional shift Luka writes about in his stories?”

No, it couldn’t allow itself to be moved!

The quill pen stiffened like a corpse, standing rigidly at Luka’s waist.

Luka: “…”
Is it broken?

That night.

In the afternoon, Cullen had only eaten a little while dining with Luka. At this hour, hunger crept in, so he ordered a late-night snack, specifically requesting no milk with today’s magic beans.

“Something troubling you?” A gentle and loving female voice echoed.

Cullen quickly stood up: “Mother.”

Lady Beryl, dressed in standard noble attire, gracefully held an exquisite little fan as she elegantly stepped into the room. “It’s rare to see you drinking pure magic beans.”

On the table lay a parchment scroll. The lady curiously asked, “What’s this?”

Cullen: “A draft of a new book. Someone wants me to publish it.”

Though, in Cullen’s opinion, it was more like testing poison.

It was clear he didn’t think much of the book, yet he was still considering it.

“The author’s identity must be quite unusual,” Lady Beryl said as she casually glanced at the parchment.

Cullen: “You’d better not read this before bed. It’ll haunt your dreams.”

A minute passed. The air fell into silence.

Cullen had expected this reaction.

“If there were a contest for the worst story on the continent, this book would take the crown…”

However, as three minutes passed and the silence lingered too long, Cullen abruptly paused mid-sentence.

Lady Beryl sat gracefully at the table, silently reading. The only time she looked up was to instruct the maid to bring her black tea.

A sense of foreboding surged in Cullen’s heart. When he saw his mother slowly take out her reading glasses, that unease reached its peak.

—She was reading it word for word.

The woman had sustained an eye injury in her youth. For the sake of appearance, she only used magical lenses when absolutely necessary.

At this moment, she was like a noblewoman admiring newly launched jewelry. Yet, when the beast bared its fangs in the story, her grip on the fan involuntarily tightened.

Only when the beast’s heart softened did she let out a subtle sigh of relief.

“…Why did it end here?”

Cullen’s eyelid twitched. “Don’t you find this story utterly absurd?”

Lady Beryl seemed puzzled by his question.

Cullen took a deep breath. “I recall your taste has always been rather refined.”

Even when reading, she preferred heavy, ancient literature.

As if sensing his thoughts, Lady Beryl smiled faintly and took out a recording stone from her storage ring.

If Luka were present, he would have definitely added, “Please enjoy the VCR.”

In the recording stone, a young child was screaming and crying hysterically. Despite the distorted sound quality, the shrill noise was enough to give anyone a headache.

Cullen’s expression stiffened.

The younger version of himself was a true little demon, throwing tantrums whenever his parents refused him and smashing bowls when upset. Yet, he was also a coward, once terrified to tears upon first encountering a griffin.

He never expected these “precious memories” of his childhood to be preserved.

Lady Beryl continued to smile.

Context is everything.

Compared to this rebellious, troublemaking child, the protagonist of the book, who remained quiet even when abandoned at birth and dined peacefully despite facing a beast, was practically her ideal well-mannered baby.

Her eyes gleamed with interest. “When will this book be released?”

Cullen’s lips twitched. “I’m still—”

“You’re still waiting for the book number? No problem. I’ll make a call to the Publishing Administration and have them expedite the review process.”

Cullen: “I’m still—”

“You’re thinking about marketing? Just do targeted promotions after the book is out.”

Cullen: “I’m still—”

“Yes, yes. You need to urge the author to write faster.” With a light tap of her fan on the table, Lady Beryl smiled and finalized the matter.

Cullen, who had originally wanted to say he was “still considering,” admitted defeat:

“…I’m already on it.”

Completely unaware that his novel, originally intended for dragons, had gained an unexpected audience, Luka was burning the midnight oil, writing.

Ever since its brief moment of emotional vulnerability that afternoon, the quill pen had been stiff and rigid.

“What’s wrong with you now?” Luka sighed.
It was so stiff that writing became difficult.

The quill pen remained silent.
It wasn’t sulking. It was proving itself.

“Forget it.” Luka shrugged. A stiff pen was fine; after all, he himself was rather stiff, maintaining a perfectly upright posture as he continued writing.

[Many years later, the beast, who had barely learned to control its instincts, recalled that day.
It couldn’t quite explain why it didn’t bite down.

Perhaps it was because all it had ever known were the vicious, clawed creatures on the island.
Or perhaps, in that moment when the little creature held the eggshell with its tiny claws, the beast, for the first time, pondered how fragile and beautiful life could be.

Regardless of the reason, the beast withdrew its fangs.

That day, the massive creature stood silently in the shadows, watching the little hatchling burp after drinking milk.
The little creature kept burping and, in panic, raised its tail to pat its own back.]

The quill pen tried to imagine that scene but failed.

It couldn’t hold back anymore: “Can’t you write something normal?”

“This is normal,” Luka explained. “Newborn creatures are soft. Their tails are quite flexible.”

“……”

Signing a blood contract to assist in writing was the quill pen’s greatest regret in life.

No exceptions.

[Sensing that the “big guy” had no intention of eating it, the little creature gradually let down its guard and began eating more recklessly.

It overate.

The eggshell contained enormous energy, far beyond what its tiny body could handle.

With one-third of the eggshell remaining, the little creature suddenly held its breath, raised its head, and—
Bang!

It headbutted the eggshell.

This wasn’t just about breaking the shell. It was personal vengeance.
That barrier had trapped it for months.

The little creature intended to shatter the shell for easier consumption and storage.
However, it overestimated itself.

There’s a difference between headbutting and clawing.
In this species, the head, horns, and abdomen are their weakest points at birth.

Less than fifteen minutes after hatching, the little creature knocked itself out, spinning 360 degrees in place before collapsing on the ground.

Its slit pupils filled with tears, and its eyes became swollen.

The little creature looked up at the beast with a red nose, its long body twitching with suppressed sobs.

The beast silently observed for a moment and then suddenly raised its massive claw—]

The quill pen grew excited: “Is it going to crush it into pulp?!”

To its disappointment, the beast merely crushed the remaining eggshell.

[The little creature stared at the shattered shell. Its tears instantly dried up.
After hesitating for a moment, it cautiously approached the beast and gently tapped its tail against the beast’s claw.]

The quill pen sneered, “Next, the beast’s heart is going to soften again, right?”

Luka calmly wrote:

[The tail, still stained with egg liquid, carried a faint warmth.
The beast’s pupils suddenly contracted.]

The quill pen: “……”

Luka wrote late into the night. After completing the plot structure, he began refining the details, from environment descriptions to character expressions, further enriching the protagonist’s personality.

His goal was to write 6,000 to 10,000 words per day, reaching the publishing standard in about ten days.

The plan was to use larger fonts, include more illustrations, and print the book with hardcover pages. Adding some pop-up designs to recreate the cave environment would make the book thick enough.

At midnight, Luka climbed into bed.

The temperature in the Boulder City dropped drastically at night. Ever since the Storm Dragon briefly passed through, a cold front had swept in for the past two nights.

The window, which wasn’t fully closed, was blown open by the wind. Half-asleep, Luka was too lazy to get up.

He blindly groped around the bed and felt the edge of the quill pen. Pulling the blanket up, he covered himself and the quill pen.

Maintaining this position, he drifted into a deep sleep.

The blanket didn’t cover his head. Subconsciously, Luka treated the quill pen as a living being, intentionally leaving space for it to breathe.

For the first time in its life, the quill pen was treated as something weak and fragile that needed to be tucked in.

It shivered awkwardly and quietly reverted to its original form…

In the long night, the unfamiliar yet familiar warmth lingered.
After a while, the quill pen’s strange little heart clenched.

[…The beast’s pupils suddenly contracted.]

That line surfaced in its mind again, and its deformed heart… skipped a beat.