Chapter 1: Ink and Silence
Abid's apartment was quiet—so quiet that he often imagined the scratch of his pen echoing louder than it really was. The window beside his desk let in a slice of Dhaka's hazy morning sun, casting thin shadows across half-finished manga pages. A ceiling fan hummed faintly above, the only sound keeping him company as he drew alone, as he always did.
He leaned back in his chair, stretching his aching fingers. The illustration in front of him—an intense confrontation scene—felt hollow. Perfect lines. Strong perspective. But lifeless.
With a soft sigh, he set his pen down.
He glanced at the calendar on the wall. No calls scheduled. No messages expected. No deadlines. No one waiting for his work. The freelance gigs had dried up months ago, and self-publishing had brought more discouragement than hope.
Still, he drew every day. Not for fame. Not even for money anymore. Just for the rhythm of it—the way ink met paper, how time folded around him as he escaped into linework and shadows.
His phone vibrated.
He blinked. No one ever called him.
It wasn't a call. Just a strange notification:
[A new system is available for installation: Ultimate Manga Selling System v0.9 Beta. Install?]
"…What?"
He read it twice. Three times.
This wasn't from any app store he recognized. No sender. No update trail. But it looked oddly… professional. The logo next to the text was a brush-stroke feather, dipped in ink, encircled by stars.
Abid furrowed his brow. It had to be spam. Or malware. Or a prank. He was too old for this kind of nonsense.
But his finger hovered over the "Install" button anyway.
Something about the message felt different—not pushy, not flashy. Just quietly confident, like it already knew what he needed before he did.
Curiosity won. He tapped Install.
The screen flickered. Then everything changed.
His room dimmed—just slightly—but enough for him to notice. The air grew cooler, and the phone screen shimmered like rippling water.
A system voice, soft and genderless, spoke:
"Welcome, Artist Abid. Installation complete. Syncing creative records…"
Abid nearly dropped the phone. "What the hell…?"
"Ultimate Manga Selling System is now active. Version: 0.9 Beta. You have been selected as a trial participant. Would you like a tutorial?"
"No—wait. This is a joke, right?"
The phone didn't respond. But a translucent window—like a holographic interface—opened before his eyes. Floating. Not part of the phone.
He stood up. It followed him. Adjusted to his gaze.
He rubbed his eyes. Still there.
[Main Menu]
• Upload Manga
• Browse Store
• Earnings Report
• Inventory
• Settings
His breath caught. It felt like a sci-fi movie. But he was wide awake.
"…Upload Manga?" he muttered.
"You may upload any manga you have authored. System will optimize format for interdimensional distribution."
He laughed nervously. "Interdimensional? That's a bit much, don't you think?"
No reply.
He stared at the floating window, then at his manga shelf.
After a long moment, he reached for a folder labeled "Personal Projects." Inside was his redraw of *Death Note*—a fan recreation he had made just for study and practice. He had redrawn every page in his own style, refining panel layouts and expressions. It wasn't meant for publishing. Just self-growth.
He hesitated.
"Let's say I do this… what happens?"
"Your manga will be sent to a partnered bookstore in World E-31. Readers will be able to purchase and review. Your system will notify you of earnings and reactions."
Abid's heart thudded.
He had drawn for years, but no one ever really read his work. His parents had supported him until they passed. Since then, he had lived quietly—drawing, existing, surviving.
He hadn't dared to dream of readers for a long time.
His fingers trembled slightly as he selected the Death Note project file and tapped "Upload."
A progress bar appeared.
Uploading… 12%... 35%... 89%... Complete.
Formatting… Success. Connected to Storefront: Eloria Booktide Branch.
"Booktide?" Abid said aloud.
"A quiet bookstore in Eloria, a kingdom within World E-31. Your work will be displayed on their new 'Illustrated Tomes' shelf."
It was absurd. Absolutely impossible.
But his gut whispered something else.
He didn't sleep much that night. Instead, he sat by his window, staring out at the orange glow of Dhaka's distant traffic, wondering what kind of world Eloria was. Wondering if someone—somewhere—was opening a book with his art in it.
The next morning, the system pinged.
You have received 31 Gold Coins. 12 Copies Sold. 3 Reader Comments.
Abid blinked.
**Gold Coins?**
The system clarified:
Each coin is equivalent to 10 Earth taka in system value. Current balance: 310 taka. Option to withdraw to Earth bank or convert to tools.
Abid stared at the floating screen, then laughed—quietly, incredulously.
Then, like dawn breaking behind the clouds, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
For the first time in years, he felt something stir inside him.
Not hope. Not yet.
But something close.