"What a weak heart you have, Greg," the Dragonkin spat and turned away.

  Weak? I smirked. In his understanding—possibly. "Weak" meant "solid." If your heart doesn't beat for others, if it doesn't let in someone else's pain, then you will never be truly unhappy.

  No attachments—no suffering. Simple math that I had followed for far too long.

  I lay on my back and stared into the void above me. "Damn it," I thought, addressing somewhere out there, beyond the bounds of this room and this text. "Why did you even pick me to be the narrator? Seriously, Author?"

  The readers are missing out on a whole bunch of interesting information because of me. The world around is sparkling with magic, political intrigues, and ancient mysteries, and me? I just sleep.

  During magic lessons, I snooze while the teacher explains the structure of the universe. During history lectures, I mix up the dates because I couldn't care less what year which king sneezed.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Instead of building a "normal" epic world, you fixated on me. And I am the most unreliable narrator in all existing cycles.

  I'm too lazy to figure out the politics of the United Nations. I'm too lazy to memorize city names and river currents on a map. I'm too lazy to explain the theory of magic and describe complex fencing techniques. Geography? Economics? Social structure? To the Abyss with all of it.

  I am a secondary character in all their lives. I am the "distant relative," the "princess's lapdog," the "weird roommate." Let them tell the story. Alexia clearly has more of a talent for drama. Lianel would describe every sword swing by the textbook. Kael would add pathos and the scent of truth.

  But me... I'm boring. I don't explain how these floating islands work. I don't explain why cows walk on two legs. I just state a fact: "a cow walked past, a cow sat down." That's it.

  It's all so incredibly annoying. You could have built a normal world with a Hero who has a Goal and Motivation. But my only motivation is the desire to find chocolate cereal balls with milk.

  Seriously. What an Author. Just a disaster.

  I covered my face with my hands. Being the center of the universe is far too exhausting a job. I didn't sign up for this.

  "Hey, Greg," the Dragonkin spoke up. "What are you doing over there, talking to the ceiling?"

  "To fate," I said. "She's being particularly intrusive today."

  I rolled over onto my side. I'm going to sleep. Maybe if I sleep long enough, the narrative will switch to someone more adequate.