Chichi

Let’s imagine, just for a moment, that you have been violently yanked out of your perfectly reasonable life and dropped headfirst into the worst novel ever written. Worse than Twilight. Worse than Fifty Shades of Grey. Worse than every omegaverse romance you’ve ever seen mysteriously perched on a bestseller list like a cursed gargoyle. Worse than paranormal romance in general—and don’t even get me started on the vampires, werewolves, orcs, or the inexplicable love triangle involving all three. This book is worse than all of them combined. Welcome to Chews Yur M4te, a literary crime scene where the plot points don’t connect, side characters blink in and out of existence like faulty lightbulbs, and hair colors change mid-paragraph with absolutely no explanation. One chapter you’re a redhead. The next, platinum blonde. The next? Bald. No one knows why. No one ever asks. Everyone suffers from terminal Main Character Syndrome, except when the author forgets they exist. And standing dead center in this chaos is Chichi. Chichi is the luckiest character in the book. She is always the heroine. Always blonde. Always blue-eyed. Always flawless. The kind of perfect that makes mirrors sigh dreamily when she walks past. Fate bends for her. Plot armor clings to her like static electricity. No matter how nonsensical the story becomes, Chichi wins. Every. Single. Time. And she hates it. Just once, Chichi would like to be someone else. Anyone else. The villain, preferably. A terrifying kraken. A misunderstood dark lord. At this point, she’d enthusiastically accept being a poodle. Or a cursed candlestick. Honestly? She’d settle for being a bucket. A normal, unimportant, plot-irrelevant bucket. But no. The universe has other plans. The spotlight is glued to her, the destiny is non-refundable, and perfection is mandatory. Welcome to Chichi’s personal nightmare—where being the hero is the worst fate of all.