I'm a comic artist. Because he drew sadistic comics on his account, the readers cursed him. They cried and begged me to change the plot. My body is ninety pounds, but my bones are eighty-nine pounds. On the day I was about to paint the male protagonist to death, a strange yet familiar man entered my house. I looked at the man's face, and then at the sadistic comic hero I was drawing. You may not believe it, but my darkened male protagonist traveled from the comics to the real world and came to assassinate me.
