Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The endless stream of crystalline droplets fell with cruel precision, each one striking the cold, damp floor of the cell like the ticking of a clock that refused to stop. The rhythmic patter echoed through the hollow stone chamber — a lullaby of torment, a metronome marking time in a world where time itself had lost all meaning. Dim light filtered through the cracks of the rusted cell bars, casting fractured shadows across the frail figure hunched below. Strands of matted hair clung to its face, once a glossy raven black, now faded to a ghostly white — bleached not by age, but by despair, by sleepless nights, by endless cycles of pain and interrogation.

It wore what was once a simple tracksuit, now torn and soaked in stains of unidentifiable origin. The remnants hung loosely from its emaciated frame, fluttering weakly each time the damp wind whispered through the corridor when they occasionally decided to visit him. The figure’s skin was a grotesque canvas — a tapestry of scars, bruises, and burns. Purple and yellow blotches spread across its thin arms like a map of its suffering. The flesh clung so tightly to the ribs beneath that it seemed less human and more an imitation — a beast disguised in the fragile skin of its prey.

Black iron chains bound its wrists and ankles, the weight of the metal pressing cruelly into bone. Each cuff was worn smooth from years of futile struggling, its surface slick with a mix of rust and blood. The cold of steel seeped into the prisoner’s flesh, gnawing endlessly at what little warmth remained. The face, once youthful and alive, now bore the marks of ruin — hollow cheeks, sunken eyes, and the vacant stare of one who had seen far too much and survived far too little.

His name was Natsuki Subaru — once a beacon of stubborn hope, a boy who defied fate itself for the sake of others. A miracle worker, a fool, a hero. His heart had burned with reckless compassion, always ready to sacrifice for another’s sake. But what stood here now was no longer that boy. What remained was an imitation — a fractured echo built from heartbreak, betrayal, and exhaustion. The soul of a hero smothered beneath the ash of endless suffering.

He had been forgotten. Erased. The accursed touch of the Beast had devoured his existence, consuming memory, identity, and the very warmth of his name. In the eyes of the world, he no longer existed. And yet, he was still punished for a sin he did not commit — branded by the Witch’s mark, cast into this cage as a scapegoat for evil he had once fought to destroy.

They called him Pride.
What irony.

The title mocked him more than any chain could. Pride — when he was perhaps the man most devoid of it. They called him a Witch Cultist, an Archbishop of Sin — a monster among monsters. How absurd, how cruelly poetic. From slaying the cult to being condemned as one of them — the ultimate cosmic joke. They grouped him with narcissists and butchers, zealots who killed for pleasure and purged for vanity. Monsters who wore faith as justification for slaughter. And him — the boy who bled and died to save strangers — now lumped among their ranks. Truly, a laughable farce.

Betrayed.
By his contracted Great Spirit.
By those he had loved.
By his Nee-sama, his brothers-in-arms, his friends — the very people for whom he had died countless times.

And yet… not all was lost.

For in this darkest corner of the world, a spark had found him — a spirit unlike any other. A being born from the unity of lesser spirits, each sacrificing its own identity to shield the boy from despair. Together, they had given life to a new soul — a small, radiant sphere of multicolored light. Polaris. His guiding star. His last family.

For six months in this loop — and dozens before — they had planned, experimented, and hoped. In secret, the two had crafted spells never before conceived, tools not for vengeance, but for freedom. And now, after all that pain, after every reset, every death, every betrayal — the moment had finally come.

-----

'Papa, those vile hypocrites have left.'
The voice echoed softly in his mind, disdain dripping from her tone.

'Alright, Polar-tan. You remember the plan?'

'Yes, Papa. Cast M.N.T. on the door, craft a key from earth, then make a rock clone of you to fool the guards.'

'Correct, my star.' he whispered with a trembling smile.

But the mask faltered.

'Papa, are you okay?' The spirit’s glow dimmed in concern.

“I… I don’t know,” he whispered, eyes downcast. “I thought… I’d feel happy. That freedom would make it all worth it. But I’m just… tired. So tired, Polar. I don’t even know if I deserve to leave.”

His voice cracked. Memories flooded back — the jeering crowds, the countless ‘executions,’ the cold bite of steel on his neck, the rough clutch of ropes on his thin skin, the crackling fire, taunting him with its ferocity. The faces of those who once smiled at him, now contorted in disgust as they condemned him to die again and again.

“Papa, don’t worry. Your Polar will help you.”

Her voice broke through his storm like sunlight through cloud.

He smiled — a small, broken smile — as tears carved paths through the grime caked on his cheeks.
“...Thank you, my star. I love you.”

“I love you too, Papa!” she chirped proudly before slipping through the wall, her rainbow form fading into the corridor beyond.

At least… I still have her, he thought. Even if I don’t deserve her.

-----

Moments later, the faint hum of magic filled the air. A purple dome shimmered briefly over the cell door, then flickered out, its runes fading to dull grey. A click followed — soft, almost hesitant — and the heavy door creaked open, the groan of its ancient hinges muffled by Yin magic. Polaris floated back in, light shimmering with excitement. She darted to the chains, freezing the metal until it shattered like glass, then left behind a perfect earthen replica of Subaru, curled in the same pitiful pose.

Subaru exhaled shakily and pushed himself upright. Pain lanced through his body; his muscles screamed in protest. He nearly collapsed, but the gentle warmth of Yang and Water magic cradled him, holding him steady. Slowly, step by trembling step, he crossed the cell, the rock scraping beneath his fingers as he used the wall to stay upright.

“Shadow Walking,” he murmured.

At once, Polaris melted into his chest, her warmth spreading through him as the boy’s form dissolved into darkness. His outline blended seamlessly with the shadows, his body becoming one with the gloom that lined the corridor.

And so he moved — silent, unseen — through the labyrinthine passageways of the prison. Every step was agony, yet every step was progress. The halls were lined with empty cells, their doors sealed, their occupants long forgotten. The scent of rust and rot hung heavy in the air. But he pressed on, guided by the faint pulse of his spirit’s light within him.

Minutes passed. Or perhaps hours. Time had no meaning here.

At last, the narrow corridor gave way to a winding staircase. His knees trembled, his lungs burned, but he climbed — one step at a time. Each step was a promise, a prayer, a heartbeat closer to the surface.

And for the first time in what felt like eternity, Subaru dared to believe the impossible.

He was going to be free.

The staircase seemed endless. Each step felt heavier than the last, as though the very stones resisted his ascent. His breath came in ragged gasps, misting faintly in the frigid air. The spiralling walls around him were rough, carved by hands long dead, veins of moisture glistening faintly like tears shed by the fortress itself. Polaris pulsed faintly within his chest, her gentle warmth battling the suffocating cold that pressed in from all sides.

“Almost there, Papa,” her voice whispered in his mind, soft and steady, like the memory of a lullaby.

He nodded silently. His throat was raw — words felt too fragile, too heavy to waste.

After what felt like an eternity, he reached a landing, a weathered wooden door standing before him. Faint shafts of light crept through the cracks between its planks — not sunlight, but torchlight. The muffled hum of voices drifted through the wood.

Guards.

Two of them, maybe three. Their laughter rolled through the air, coarse and careless — the kind of laughter born from boredom and arrogance. The boy froze, pressing his thin frame against the wall, heart hammering against his ribs. Instinct screamed for him to hide, even though he was already one with the shadows.

“Stay calm, Papa,” Polaris whispered. “They can’t see you if you keep the spell stable.”

Subaru nodded, drawing a slow, careful breath. He edged closer, the rough texture of the stone scraping his fingertips as he crept along the wall. The door had a narrow slit where the mana light bled through — enough for him to peer out.

On the other side stood three armoured men, silver plate dulled by use. One leaned lazily against his spear, another nursed a dented flask, while the third complained about the cold. Their conversation was mundane — talk of shifts, of nobles, of nothing that mattered.

Yet to Subaru, their voices were thunder. Each word felt like a hammer striking against his fragile composure. The memories of guards dragging him by his hair, their jeers, their laughter — it all threatened to flood back.

He squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the edge of the door to ground himself.

Not this time.

Polaris shimmered faintly, her presence soothing the tremor that rippled through him. “They won’t see us,” she reassured him gently. “You’ve done harder things before, haven’t you?”

A faint, humourless smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah… you could say that.”

He waited — counting heartbeats, waiting for the rhythm of their chatter to lull into a careless pattern. Then, when one of the men turned away to stifle a yawn, Subaru moved.

Silent.
Unseen.
A phantom gliding between shadows.

He slipped past the open archway, Polaris dimming her glow to a faint pulse of colour buried within his chest. The guards continued talking, oblivious, their laughter echoing down the corridor as the broken boy slipped through their ranks like smoke.

The corridor beyond led upward again — the air changing subtly. It was lighter here, less stagnant. The faint scent of dust and iron began to fade, replaced by something unfamiliar — something alive.

Wind.

Faint, but unmistakable. A current of air brushed against his cheek, carrying with it the distant murmur of life — footsteps, voices, the creak of wagon wheels, the flutter of cloth. The world above.

Subaru’s knees nearly gave way. Polaris’ light flickered in alarm.

“Papa—!”

“I’m okay,” he rasped. “Just… give me a moment.”

He dragged himself forward, each motion an act of defiance against his frail body. The tunnel ended in another stairway, this one shorter, crowned by a heavy iron grate where pale morning light filtered through. The light wasn’t harsh — it was soft, golden, almost hesitant, as though uncertain whether it was welcome here.

Subaru stood there for a moment, staring at it, the light reflecting faintly in his dull eyes.

“Papa…?” Polaris asked softly.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out — slowly, shakily — and let his fingers brush against the sliver of sunlight bleeding through the grate. It was warm. Not the biting heat of torches, nor the feverish burn of magic, but genuine warmth. For a moment, his breath caught in his throat.

It felt like life.

“Open it,” he whispered.

Polaris didn’t hesitate. A pulse of earth magic rippled through the bars, and the grate shifted with a groan, sliding free from its hinges. Dust cascaded down like ash as the way opened, revealing a narrow alleyway drenched in morning light.

Together, they climbed — Subaru first, then the little spirit following close, her light reflecting off the grime-stained stones. The moment he emerged, the world exploded in colour and sound.

The Royal Capital of Lugunica stretched before him — grand spires and bustling streets, merchants shouting over one another, carriages rattling down cobbled roads, banners fluttering in the gentle breeze. The sky above was a brilliant blue, streaked with thin clouds glowing gold in the morning sun.

For a heartbeat, the noise of the city faded away. Subaru simply stood there, eyes wide, the wind tousling his filthy hair. The sunlight poured over him, bathing his scarred face in gold. His breath trembled as he looked up, seeing the world he thought he’d never see again.

“Papa…” Polaris whispered, hovering beside him, her multicoloured form gleaming in the light for the first time.

He smiled faintly — a fragile, genuine smile that trembled like a candle flame.
“It’s… warm,” he murmured. “I’d forgotten what it felt like.”

But before they could take another step, Polaris flickered suddenly, her tone sharp and alert. “Guards!”

Subaru’s head snapped around. At the far end of the alley, a small group of royal knights stood conversing — their armour gleaming, their voices light and careless. They hadn’t noticed him yet. Not yet.

He froze, holding his breath. The sunlight suddenly felt far too bright, the open street far too exposed. The old fear clawed its way up his throat.

“Stay calm,” Polaris whispered, her tone a firm echo of hope. “Shadow Walking is still active. Walk slowly. Blend with the light and shade.”

Subaru nodded, his heart hammering like a drum. Together, they moved — a phantom and his star — weaving between the patches of shadow cast by rooftops and wagons. Each step felt like crossing a battlefield. The guards’ laughter rang out behind them, blissfully unaware of the miracle unfolding in their midst.

And then —

They passed the final shadow and stepped into the open street.

The morning sun washed over them in full, chasing the gloom from their bodies. Subaru closed his eyes, feeling the heat soak into his skin. The wind smelled of bread, flowers, and life. He took a deep, trembling breath and whispered, barely audible,

“…I’m free.”

Polaris pulsed brightly beside him, her voice trembling with joy. “Welcome back, Papa.”

And for the first time in five years and three months, Natsuki Subaru smiled beneath the light of day.

-----

The sun’s warmth lingered like a dream as Subaru stepped into the light of the capital. For a long moment, he simply stood there, blinking against the brilliance of morning, the rush of colour and sound overwhelming after months of stone and silence.

The Royal Capital of Lugunica was alive. Truly alive.

Vendors shouted across cobblestone streets, their voices overlapping in a chaotic chorus. The scent of baked bread and roasted meat mixed with the perfume of flowers sold in woven baskets. Children darted through the crowd, laughing, chasing after each other with wooden toys. A bard strummed a lute on the corner of a busy plaza, his melody soft and hopeful — a song of peace, of prosperity.

A peace that had bloomed while he rotted in the dark.

Subaru moved carefully, his tattered clothes hidden beneath a faint distortion of shadow — a thin film of illusion woven by Polaris. He wasn’t invisible to the world’s eye, not entirely, but he was forgettable — a flicker in the corner of vision, dismissed as nothing more than a trick of the light.

And so, unseen, he walked among them.

He passed a familiar street — one that twisted painfully in his chest. There had once been a fruit stall here, and beside it, a cheerful girl with silver hair who smiled even when she was exhausted. He remembered the faint tremor in her voice when she’d said his name for the first time.

Now, the stall was still run by that same figure  — a broad-shouldered man with a booming laugh and a scared face, his wares piled high with appas that gleamed under the sun. The same spot, the same world… but no trace of her. No trace of him.

Polaris hovered faintly beside his shoulder, her voice quiet.
“Papa… are you okay?”

His gaze lingered on the stall, on the smiling faces of passersby. “They’re all… fine,” he whispered. “Better, even. Like I was never here.”

He wanted to feel joy at that — that the people he had saved, the country he had bled for, continued to thrive. But instead, there was only emptiness. A quiet ache that hollowed out his chest.

A group of knights rode past, their silver armour glinting in the light. The crest of the dragon kingdom shone proudly on their cloaks. Subaru’s breath hitched. Among them, he recognised a few familiar silhouettes — men and women who had once fought by his side. Now, they laughed, relaxed, their burdens lighter.

They didn’t even look his way.
Why would they?

He was a ghost walking through a world that no longer remembered his name.

“Papa…” Polaris murmured, sensing the pain that rippled through their bond.

“I know,” he said quietly. “Let’s just… keep moving.”

He turned down a narrower street — less crowded, the noise of the market fading behind them. The smell of fresh bread lingered in the air, carried from a nearby bakery. His stomach growled, the sound embarrassingly loud after days of nothing but stale water and magic residue.

He pressed a hand to his midsection, grimacing. “Guess freedom doesn’t come with breakfast.”

Polaris brightened faintly. “We could… take some. Just a little. You need to eat, Papa.”

Subaru hesitated. The idea felt wrong, yet his body screamed otherwise. He nodded faintly. “Just this once.”

He approached a bakery stall — simple, unguarded, a woven tray of golden rolls steaming under the morning sun. A young woman behind the counter hummed softly, chatting with a customer. Subaru tensed his eyebrows slightly, focusing.

“Invisible Providence,” he whispered.

The air shimmered faintly around his chest, the outline of the unseen hand vanishing entirely. His invisible fingers brushed the edge of the tray, curling around a roll still warm from the oven. It vanished into the folds of his tattered jacket without a sound.

No one noticed. The vendor laughed, the customer smiled, the city continued.

Polaris giggled softly in his mind. “You’re getting better at that, Papa.”

He smiled weakly. “Guess being invisible has its uses.”

They moved again — down another row of stalls. He caught sight of a familiar fruit stand, a pyramid of appas stacked high, their crimson skins glistening with dew. He couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him — a sound that was part fondness, part pain.

“Appas, huh… some things never change.”

Another pulse of invisible energy, another silent lift — two appas this time. He slipped them into his ragged sleeve, moving away as the merchant called out a price to another customer, none the wiser.

They walked on, blending into the throng of people, the hum of life all around them. Subaru bit into the bread quietly — the taste simple, almost shockingly so after months of rot and dust. He chewed slowly, reverently, as if afraid it might disappear.

Polaris floated beside him, basking in the sunlight. “It’s beautiful up here, isn’t it, Papa?”

He swallowed, his throat tight. “Yeah… it is.”

They passed a fountain at the centre of a square — a dragon carved from marble, water sparkling as it cascaded down its wings. Children splashed in the pool, mothers chatted nearby, merchants haggled in the shade.

The city lived.
It thrived.
It had moved on.

And Subaru stood among it all — unseen, unfelt, unremembered — a shadow stitched into the edges of a world that no longer had room for him.

Yet, as the sunlight danced across the water, as Polaris twirled gleefully in its reflection, he felt something small stir inside him.

Not joy. Not peace. But possibility.

For the first time in what felt like a thousand lifetimes, the future wasn’t written.

He looked down at the half-eaten bread in his hand, then at the glimmering sky above, and whispered to himself,

“…I’ll start again. Even if nobody remembers.”

Polaris drifted close, her gentle light resting against his chest. “Then we’ll start together, Papa.”

And in the heart of the capital — amidst laughter, sunlight, and the rhythm of a world reborn — the forgotten hero and his guiding star walked quietly forward, unseen, but alive.

-----

The further they walked, the more the noise of the market faded behind them. The shouts of merchants gave way to the distant clatter of hooves, the chatter of nobles, and then, eventually, to silence — the kind of silence that lingered in the forgotten corners of the capital.

Subaru slipped into one such corner — a narrow alley wedged between two tall, crumbling buildings. Moss crept up the stones, the air smelled faintly of rust and rain. A stray cat darted away as he entered, vanishing into a pile of discarded crates.

Here, the world felt quieter. Detached. A perfect place to think.

He leaned against the wall, sliding down until he sat on the uneven cobblestones. The bread and fruit he had stolen now sat beside him, half-eaten, wrapped in the folds of his ruined tracksuit.

Polaris hovered close, her multicoloured glow subdued in the dim light. “Papa, what’s the plan now?” she asked softly.

Subaru rested his head against the wall, eyes half-closed. “Plan…?” He let out a short, bitter laugh. “I guess that’s the funny part. I don’t have one yet.”

He lifted one of the Appas, turning it in his hand — the red skin glinting faintly in the light. “I used to think every loop had a purpose, that every death, every pain, was leading somewhere. But now… I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do anymore. The world’s moved on without me. Maybe it’s better that way.”, he muttered the first part quietly to himself.

Polaris’s voice softened. “But you’re still here, Papa. That means something.”

He smiled faintly — tired, wistful. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just another cruel joke. That monster's way of making sure I get front-row seats to the life I was erased from.”

The words hung between them for a moment, heavy and cold.

Then, from the mouth of the alleyway, came the sound of laughter.

Subaru froze. It was a familiar sound — low, coarse, cruelly amused. Three voices. His eyes narrowed slightly as he turned toward it.

And then they appeared.

Three men swaggered into the alley, dressed in the same rough leather and tattered cloaks he remembered all too well. The first was tall and lean, with a jagged scar running from his lip to his chin; the second broad-shouldered, carrying himself with the lazy confidence of someone used to easy prey; the third short, twitchy, with that same smirk that had haunted Subaru on his first day in this world.

“Oi, oi,” the tall one said with a mocking grin, “look what we’ve got here. Another stray hiding in our spot.”

The broad one snorted. “Heh, looks half-dead already. Guess we can still squeeze something out of him.”

The midget snickered, "Huh he looks familiar, probably looted you before, hah."

The irony hit him like a knife.

His lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. Of course it’d be them.
Of all the people in this vast, bustling city — fate had led him straight back to these same three fools. The same ones who’d welcomed him into this world with fists and laughter.

He had died so many times since then. Bled, screamed, burned — fought monsters, cultists, spirits, even gods.
And here they were — unchanged. Still swaggering, still loud, still small.

Polaris shimmered faintly, her light pulsing with concern. “Papa… do you want me to—”

He raised a hand slightly, silencing her. His voice was calm — frighteningly so. “No. Don’t. They’re not worth it.”

The tall thug stepped forward, squinting. “You deaf, old man? We said—”

Subaru looked up at him then — just once.
And for the first time in their lives, the three thugs went silent.

There was nothing overtly threatening in his expression. No anger, no hatred. Just eyes — hollow, dark, and infinitely tired. The kind of eyes that had seen too much death, too much suffering, to care about petty cruelty anymore.

The broad one shifted uncomfortably. “H-hey, what’s with that look? You trying to scare us or something?”

Subaru said nothing. He just leaned back against the wall again, resting his chin on his hand as if they weren’t even there.

Smoothly he rose with calm, poised steps, with the thugs staggering back in alarm.

"Invisible providence" he chanted, and out came three large hands invisible to everyone but him, wriggling out his chest like serpents. He then coiled each hand around their varying sized necks, hard enough to inhibit movement, but loose enough to barely breathe, and rammed them into the aged cobblestone wall. 

"Hey wha-", said the midget before lacking the ability to breathe steadily.

"Hah, oh how the tables have turned." he chuckled unhumorously. "Now you guys give me all the cash you all have alright?" 

They all simultaneously nodded awkwardly, wide-eyed, with hands wrapped around the unseen execution noose imbedded in their necks.

"Good."

He then proceeded to pat them down and loot their pockets whilst they writhed around uncontrollably. After he had finished stealing their pouches of coin, he quickly inspected them.

"Hmm not bad a few gold and silver here and there... Wait a holy golden coin!? Damn Felt must be paying you guys good... A shame you wasted it, from going back to stealing." he let out a short sigh, "Well old habits die hard don't they?", he spoke calmly whilst the trio started getting more restless from the mention of their liege.

"Well, unfortunately for you guys, I am not in the mood to play petty games, so I'll have to make you stay silent. If you know what I mean." he spoke slowly, with a manic smile. Whilst they started pathetically crying and groaning, yet all that came out was wet gurgles due to the weight on their trachea.

"Think this of payback for how much trouble you caused me on the first day. Don't worry, I'll make it painless." he stated placidly, as if he were discussing the weather, and not playing with people's life. 

He then slowly started applying more pressure on their necks, making their faces turn bright red, whilst they desperately clawed at their own necks, their bones creaking under the immense strain. They writhed around clutching to the fading embers of life.

"...Go-", the middle one groaned before unable to breathe.

Finally three consecutive snaps were heard, the bones audibly shattered and bloody foam bubbling out their mouths, with the last being heard from the burly neck of the brute. Subaru then unceremoniously dropped them on the ground, like rag-dolls, the light in their eyes haven been dimmed.

"Clean the filth up Polar-tan"

"Yes Papa!" said the spirit enthusiastically, happy to help, as she lit them on fire. Their bodies spontaneously combusting, with fat and skin melting alike, creating a pool of pinkish gore. Their bones charring under the fire.

"Uhh yuck!", Subaru said covering his mouth with his thin hand.

After the last embers had dimmed, three smouldering, grey piles were arranged, with the centre pile having two flowing lumps of still glowing, amber steel. The last remnants of daggers, having been molten due to the magical heat.

Subaru didn’t move for a long while, gazing intently at the stacks of ash, with a shadow looming over his visage . The only sound was the faint rustle of the wind and the soft hum of Polaris’s mana.

Finally, he let out a breath — half a sigh, half a laugh. “Of course. The same three idiots. Like the world couldn’t resist rubbing it in one last time.”

"Maybe, I went a little overboard?", he said with a tinge of pity.

Polaris floated closer, her glow returning, soft and comforting. “They deserved it Papa.” she said quietly. "They tried to intimidate you.”

He looked at her, one brow raising slightly. “Hmm... Maybe you're right?”

“Of course! Polar and Papa are always right!” she said matter of fact and a tinge of smug superiority. “You didn’t even need to fight. You already won, because they were too weak or we are too strong!.”

For a moment, Subaru just stared at her — then, unexpectedly, he smiled. A small, genuine smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but was real nonetheless.

“Maybe you’re right, my star,” he said softly. “I won't let anyone, harm me or you anymore.”

He pushed himself up slowly, brushing the dust from his clothes. The city loomed beyond the alleyway — bright, alive, indifferent.

“Come on,” he murmured. “We’ve got work to do. If this world’s going to keep spinning without me… then maybe it’s time I found a reason to spin with it again.”

Polaris floated at his shoulder, her colours gleaming faintly against the shadows. “Yes, Papa.”

Together, they stepped out from the gloomy alley — the forgotten boy and his luminous star — walking once more into the blinding light of the world that had moved on, leaving the three smoking piles of ash behind. A testament to their broken sanity.

Chapter Text

Umm yeh this is not a legit chapter....

But i posted it on the wrong date and cant change it soooo....

(Yes I'll make more chapters, sorry for the issue!)

-----

Ram: "Author-sama you are truly the king of idiots, stop wasting the innocent readers time. Kindly die for wasting our oxygen."

Author:"I KNOW NEEE-SAMAAAA"

Ram:"Hmph", she looks away dramatically flicking her hair, with a smug smile.