Filed under: “Be Careful What You Summon.”

  It began with a scroll.

  Unmarked. Untitled. Unreasonably self-important.

  It appeared overnight, floating ominously above the dumpling table in the shared meditation hall. Glowing gold letters pulsed across its cover:

  SUGGESTION BOX

  (For internal use only. All complaints will be noted. Possibly.)

  No one admitted to writing it.

  No one admitted to reading it.

  And yet, by morning, someone had added a comment.

  “Less lightning. I’m still twitching.”

  — Anonymous, but clearly crispy.

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  The next day, more appeared.

  “Can I get a scroll where I don’t cry in chapter two?”

  — Sad but loyal

  “Let the sword be a girl this time. Just saying.”

  — Sword Enthusiast #8

  “You cannot call that man ‘Emotionally Constipated’ if he has never had emotions to begin with.”

  — Offended Ghost General

  The scroll became... popular.

  It hovered from sect to sect. Appeared in hidden alcoves. Slipped into library corners. At least once, it dropped directly onto the author’s bed while she was sleeping.

  ***

  Some entries were polite:

  “Thank you for the food descriptions. I read them at lunch.”

  Some were not:

  “You ruined my life and now I ship things I don’t understand.”

  “I still cry about the chicken.”

  “WHY ARE THE TALISMANS FLIRTY.”

  The mediator tried to regulate the discourse.

  He failed.

  ***

  Eventually, the scroll glowed red for three days and then exploded into a paper phoenix.

  It left behind a single final note:

  “I see you.

  I won’t change.

  But I might add a dumpling recipe in Chapter 14.”

  No one claimed responsibility.

  Everyone blamed the author.

  And the scroll?

  It respawned the following week in the suggestion bowl of the Spirit Rabbit Post Office.