Teleported into My Own Novel as the Author!

Char woke up groggy and disoriented, blinking against the dim morning light filtering through the cracks in the wooden shutters. The room was quiet, filled only with the sounds of soft breathing from the others still asleep. He shifted slightly, his back aching from the stiff cot, and rubbed his eyes.

As his vision cleared, he realized he wasn't alone.

Tess sat across the room near the small kitchen area, perched on the edge of a wooden chair, her long legs stretched out as she lazily nibbled on a piece of bread. She was wearing nothing but a thin shirt that barely covered her thighs and a pair of dark undergarments, leaving most of her skin exposed to the cool morning air.

Char immediately turned bright red and snapped his gaze away, staring hard at the ceiling as if it had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world. Oh my god. Oh my god. What the hell.

This was a character he had created. A figment of his own imagination, given flesh and blood, now sitting in front of him half-naked like it was the most casual thing in the world. The sheer absurdity of it made his head spin.

"Morning, stray," Tess said, her voice thick with amusement.

Char cleared his throat, still very pointedly not looking at her. "Uh. Morning."

Tess stretched, arching her back with a lazy groan before slouching forward again. "You're up early."

"So are you," Char mumbled, forcing himself to focus on his hands.

Tess smirked. "Yeah, but I'm always up early. You, on the other hand, look like someone just dropped you into existence five minutes ago."

That's not far from the truth, Char thought bitterly.

Tess watched him for a moment, chewing her bread thoughtfully. "So," she said, tilting her head, "where'd you and Ishmael run off to yesterday?"

Char hesitated, still hyper-aware of her presence. He swallowed, trying to push past the awkwardness, and forced himself to focus on something other than the fact that she was barely dressed.

"We—uh—went to a riverside restaurant," he started, his voice a little hoarse. "Ran into some… trouble."

Tess quirked an eyebrow, intrigued. "Trouble?"

Char sighed, rubbing his temples. "Some guy got stabbed and kicked into the river. I jumped in after him, but he, uh… didn't make it."

Tess gave him a knowing look, her smirk widening. "That sounds like a real dumb move."

Char scowled. "Thanks."

"Seriously, though," Tess said, leaning back in her chair, "Ishmael doesn't usually let people slow him down. If he stuck around after you threw yourself into the water, he must not think you're entirely useless."

"High praise," Char muttered.

Tess laughed softly. "What happened after that?"

Char hesitated again, debating how much he should say. He didn't want to get tangled up in the details of Rook—especially since that part of the story had already veered wildly off course from what he had originally written. But Tess was watching him expectantly, and something told him she'd know if he was lying.

He exhaled. "Ishmael took me to meet a guy named Rook. Someone who had history with Braelan Marrow."

Tess's expression didn't shift much, but there was a slight narrowing of her eyes. "Rook?"

"Yeah. He, uh… used to work for Marrow. Not as a fighter, though. More like an informant, I think."

Tess tapped her fingers against the table, considering. "And?"

"And… he basically told us that since Ishmael killed Roake—who had already killed Marrow—he's now made himself a target in the Syndicate's drug war."

Tess exhaled sharply through her nose. "Figures."

Char studied her carefully. "You don't seem surprised."

Tess chuckled dryly. "I'm not. The Syndicate's been a mess for a while, but now that Marrow and Roake are out of the picture, it's just going to get worse. It was only a matter of time before someone got tangled up in the chaos."

She stood, brushing crumbs off her shirt, and stretched again. Char very much did not look.

"Good thing I've got someone on the inside," she added.

Char blinked. "You do?"

Tess smirked, clearly enjoying his surprise. "Yeah. Someone I trust. Been undercover in the Syndicate for a while now, keeping tabs on things. If anyone knows how Marrow's death is shaking things up, it's them."

Char's mind reeled. This isn't how I wrote the story. There had never been an undercover informant—at least, not one hehad created. This was new. The world was filling in the gaps again, shifting beyond what he had originally planned.

He swallowed hard. "So… what, you're going to check in with them?"

Tess grinned. "Yup. And you're coming with me."

Char tensed. "What? Why?"

Tess shrugged. "Why not? You need to learn the ropes around here. Plus, if you're going to be tangled up in this whole mess with Ishmael, you might as well know who's pulling the strings."

Char hesitated, a sinking feeling settling in his gut. He didn't like this. He had already seen how much the story had changed simply by existing in it—if he kept getting involved, who knew how far things would spiral away from what he had originally planned?

But… he also needed to find a way home. And if that meant following the story until he appeared, then maybe this was the next step.

He sighed. "Fine. Where are we going?"

Tess grinned. "Relax, stray. It's just a little meeting. What's the worst that could happen?"

Char had a sinking feeling he was about to find out