My Famous Band C1 Beginning (5k+ Words)

(Basket Case - Green Day)

(Moment of Truth - FM Static)

---

The Crocodile bar, Washington, Seattle, USA. The year was 1990, the bar buzzed with energy as the local band took the stage. The drummer and guitarist's heads bobbed in syncopated rhythm, lost in the melody they created. The lead singer, microphone in hand, commanded the crowd's attention as he belted out the opening lines: "My cup runneth over / Like blood from a stone." The crowd roared, their bodies swaying to the heavy beat.

"These stand for me / Name your god and bleed the freak / I'd like to see / How you all would bleed for me," he growled, his voice raw with emotion. The room pulsated with the music, the air thick with sweat and anticipation. The band was covering a new song by the emerging "Alice in Chains," a group that had also graced this very stage not too long ago. Now, they were playing to sold-out arenas, but their grunge sound still echoed through these walls, inspiring the next generation of musicians.

The crowd surged forward, their hands in the air, as the guitarist shredded an electrifying solo. The drummer's sticks flew across the kit, each cymbal crash and bass drum kick reverberating through the room. The intoxicating mix of sweat, beer, and adrenaline filled the air as the band fed off the crowd's energy, giving it right back tenfold.

In the back, a few patrons nodded along, remembering the days when Alice in Chains had been in the same shoes

In the back, a few patrons nodded along, remembering the days when Alice in Chains had been in the same shoes as this local band, playing for a small but dedicated crowd at The Crocodile. They knew firsthand how quickly life could change for a band with the right sound and enough determination.

As the band continued to rock the stage, a 13-year-old boy with messy black hair caught the eye of onlookers. His natural hairstyle oozed a rockstar vibe that many teenagers at the time would kill for. He wore a black leather sleeve and jeans as he watched the band, his hands casually tucked in his pockets.

"Hey, kid! Get me a beer!" a patron hollered, snapping the boy, Enoch, out of his trance.

"Right away," Enoch said, but his hand stopped midair. "The money for the beer and tip, please." His outstretched palm didn't waver.

The man grumbled, but he eventually handed over the cash, including a three-dollar tip. Enoch's face lit up with gratitude as he took the money and headed to the bar.

"Another one, huh, Enoch?" the bartender chuckled, recognizing the teenager's order.

"The rent's due," Enoch replied, his voice laced with determination beyond his years.

The bartender filled the glass, his expression softening as he handed it back to Enoch. He knew all too well about the boy's irresponsible father, leaving him to fend for himself.

Enoch returned to the table, delivering the beer with a polite smile. "Here you go, sir."
"Keep the change, kid," the patron said, waving him off.

Enoch continued to run errands for the patrons, his steps never faltering even as the demands began to slow down. The local band "Algebra" finished their set, and another performer took the stage, but they didn't quite match the energy of the previous act.

As Enoch wiped down a table, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Startled, he turned to find the blond lead singer of "Algebra," Johnny, smiling at him.

"Hey there, Enoch. How's business tonight?" Johnny asked, ruffling the teenager's messy hair.

"It's been good, Uncle Johnny," Enoch replied, a tired smile on his face.

Johnny frowned, glancing at the clock on the wall. "It's late, kiddo. You should be home by now. You've got school tomorrow."

Enoch glanced around the bar, his eyes lingering on the remaining patrons. "But—"

"No buts," Johnny interrupted, pressing a ten-dollar bill into Enoch's hand. "You don't need to work this hard for a few bucks. Go home and get some rest."

Reluctantly, Enoch accepted the money, knowing better than to argue with his uncle. "Thanks, Uncle Johnny. I'll see you next time."

"You better be here bright-eyed and bushy-tailed," Johnny teased, as Enoch waved goodbye and headed for the exit.

Johnny watched Enoch's retreating back, a frown creasing his brow. A young woman with a rockstar edge slung her arm around his waist, her eyes following his gaze.

"You're ruining the hustle for that kid, you know?" she teased, but her voice held concern.

"I know, Clara," Johnny sighed, "but he's working too hard."

Clara, the drummer of "Algebra," shook her head. "Can't blame him. With a father like his, it's a miracle he's still standing."

"Yeah, I know," Johnny agreed, thinking about Enoch's alcoholic, jobless, and abusive father. "I just hope he doesn't end up like—"

"Hey, hey," Clara cut in, sensing the dark turn their conversation was taking. "Enoch's got more grit than that. He'll make it out of this town, watch."

Johnny nodded, forcing a smile. "You're right. He's got the drive, that's for sure."

---

Enoch rushed home, his heart pounding in his chest as he heard the all-too-familiar sounds of shouting and crashing coming from within. He burst through the door, his eyes widening at the sight of his father, Jonas, towering over his cowering mother, Emma. The room was a mess, furniture upturned and dishes shattered on the floor.

"You're doing it again!" Enoch shouted, charging towards his father. He didn't think twice before wedging himself between the enraged man and his cowering mother.

"Don't interfere, you son of a bitch!" Jonas roared, trying to shove Enoch aside.

Enoch's face contorted in pain as he took the punches and kicks meant for his mother, but he didn't budge. "No! I won't let you hurt her!"

"Fine, then you'll feel my wrath!" Jonas growled, raining down punches and kicks on the teenager.

"Stop it, Jonas! You're hurting our son!" Emma screamed, her eyes swollen with tears.

"I don't care, bitch!" Jonas spat, raising his fist to strike again.

Enoch gritted his teeth, tasting blood in his mouth. "I-I have money! You can go... gambling... outside!"

Jonas froze, a cruel grin spreading across his face. "Now, that's more like it. Hand it over, and maybe I'll spare you both."

Enoch's mother, Emma, sobbed as she took in her son's battered form. "You're a monster, Jonas!" she spat, her eyes filled with rage and despair. Enoch's face was a mess of bruises, his eye swollen shut, nose bleeding, and lip split open.

"I know, I know. Don't be so obvious, Emma," Jonas sneered. "Now, give me the money, Enoch."

Enoch gritted his teeth, handing over the hard-earned cash.

Jonas's eyes widened in fury. "Only 80 bucks? You worked your ass off all day, and this is all you have for me?" He grabbed Enoch by the hair, slamming his head against the floor. "You're pathetic!"

Enoch's world spun, and then everything went black.

"Enoch!" Emma screamed, rushing to her son's side. "Wake up! Enoch!" Terror gripped her heart as he lay motionless. She turned to Jonas, who for once looked panicked.

Jonas's eyes widened in panic. "Oh, shit… Did I…?" He trailed off, his drunken haze momentarily lifting as he realized the severity of his actions. In a panic, he grabbed his things and bolted out the door, leaving his wife and unconscious son behind.

Emma, her heart pounding in her chest, checked Enoch's pulse. Relief washed over her as she felt a weak but steady beat. She scooped him up in her arms, her own body aching from the abuse she had endured. Summoning all her strength, she carried her son to their rundown car.

The drive to the hospital was a blur, sirens wailing and tires squealing. In the emergency room, doctors and nurses swarmed around Enoch, assessing his injuries.

---

Enoch stirred awake, his vision blurry as he adjusted to the harsh hospital lights. His mother, Emma, slept fitfully in the chair next to him, her face bearing the marks of their father's rage. Despite the pain coursing through his body, Enoch was relieved to see that she was relatively unharmed.

As he tried to sit up, a splitting headache brought him back down, and that's when it happened. Memories, not his own, flooded his mind. Images of a life he had never lived, people he'd never met, and a world unfamiliar yet familiar at the same time.

"What's happening?" he mumbled, clutching his head in agony.

"Enoch!" Emma rushed to his side, panic etched on her face. "What's wrong, son?"

Enoch couldn't find the words to describe the visions of a life he had never lived. "It's… nothing," he managed, wincing.

Emma didn't believe him but didn't press further. She went to call the doctor, leaving the room momentarily.

As soon as the door closed, the pain vanished, leaving Enoch confused and shaken. What just happened? he wondered, trying to make sense of the strange images that still lingered in his mind.

Enoch stared at his hands, trying to process the memories that weren't his but felt so familiar. "I… I'm a reincarnated person?" he muttered in disbelief. In his mind's eye, he saw flashes of his past life: a man in the year 2024 who had died of a heart attack, and then the hazy memories of being born as Enoch Comly in this world.

As he pieced together the fragments, an idea began to form. "I could create my own band…" He remembered crystal clear the numerous rock songs from his previous life, tunes and lyrics etched into his very being. Maybe, just maybe, he could use this knowledge to change his future.

Enoch lay on a hospital bed, his heart pounding as fast as the rain against the window. His mind raced with a dream that had consumed him since he woke up in this unfamiliar time: to build his own band. He envisioned himself as the lead vocalist, strumming his guitar while belting out soulful melodies. However, he knew he couldn't do it alone. He needed a skilled group of musicians to complete the picture: a talented guitarist, a rhythmic drummer, and a bassist who could pluck the strings of the audience's hearts.

Enoch's fingers twitched under the covers, itching to strum an imaginary guitar. The memories of his past life as a musician flooded his mind, imbuing him with the skills to play various instruments and captivate crowds with his voice. But it was the memory of his former band that haunted him the most. They were more than just bandmates; they were brothers-in-arms, united by their love for music.

Now, in this new era, he needed to find his new brothers-in-arms, his new musical family. The thought both exhilarated and terrified him. How would he find such talented individuals in this unfamiliar world? And even if he did, how would he convince them to join his band? A band that, at the moment, only existed in his daydreams?

As the rain continued its harmony outside, Enoch closed his eyes, allowing the memories of his past performances to wash over him.

As Enoch lay in the hospital bed, lost in thought, the door creaked open, revealing his mother, Emma, and a kind-looking female doctor with a clipboard in her hand.

"Mom..." he muttered, wincing as he tried to sit up.

"Enoch, please, stay still," the doctor admonished gently. "I'm Dr. Mitchell, and I'll be taking care of you. Your mother here told me about your headache." Her eyes were warm with concern as she assessed him.

"I'm doing... okay," Enoch mumbled, but the pain etched on his face betrayed him.

Emma's eyes narrowed, and she placed a hand on his forehead. "Tell the truth, son."

Enoch met his mother's bruised gaze, a pang of guilt and anger surging through him. He knew she'd taken some of his father's blows to protect him.

"I'm fine, really," he insisted, glancing around the sterile room. "In fact, I think I'm good enough to leave."

Dr. Mitchell frowned, shaking her head. "That won't do, kid. You need to rest and be observed."

But it was his mother's next words that caught him off guard. "Don't worry, Enoch. Your Uncle Johnny already paid for everything."

Relief washed over him, and he nodded.

Uncle Johnny, he thought, remembering the kind man who had always been there for them. He vowed to repay this debt when he could.

Dr. Mitchell then asked about the severity of the beatings he'd endured from his father. Enoch downplayed the pain, insisting he was alright. Dr. Mitchell didn't seem entirely convinced but decided not to push further. Instead, she whispered some advice into Emma's ear before leaving the room, giving them some privacy.

As soon as the door closed, Emma sat down next to her son, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. "Enoch, I… I don't know what to say."

Enoch took her hand, squeezing it gently. "It's not your fault, Mom. I just… I need to get out of here. I need to start over."

Emma nodded, understanding in her eyes. "I know. But promise me you'll rest first, alright?"

Enoch reluctantly agreed, knowing he owed her that much. His mind, however, already raced with plans for his band.

A few days later, the door to Enoch's hospital room opened, revealing his smiling Uncle Johnny, flanked by his bandmates.

Enoch's heart swelled with gratitude as he saw the familiar faces.

"Hey there, kiddo," Uncle Johnny greeted, ruffling his nephew's hair. "Glad to see you're doing better."

Enoch grinned, wincing slightly. "Thanks to you, Uncle J." He couldn't help but stare at the guitar slung over Luke's shoulder, his fingers itching to strum its strings.

Clara, a pretty brunette with a killer smile, plopped down on the bed next to him. "How's my favorite errand boy?" she teased, playfully nudging his foot.

"Much better, thanks to you guys," Enoch replied, glancing at the get-well-soon gifts they'd brought.

Luke slapped him on the back, almost making him wince again. "Well, we can't have our best roadie out of commission, can we?"

Enoch chuckled, remembering the countless times he'd watched them perform at the local bar, wishing he could be on stage with them. Little did they know, he now had the skills to do just that.

Finally, the day of his discharge arrived.

As they pulled away, Enoch couldn't help but notice the dark circles under his mother's eyes, a testament to the sleepless nights she'd spent worrying about him. He vowed to make it up to her, to provide her with a life free from fear and pain.

Uncle Johnny and his bandmates were waiting for them outside, their faces etched with concern. "You sure you're ready to leave, kiddo?" his uncle asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Enoch nodded, determination in his eyes. "I've never been surer."

As they pulled away from the hospital, Enoch couldn't help but stare at the bustling city of Seattle. Opportunity lurked around every corner, and he was determined to seize it with both hands.

---

The neon sign of "The Crocodile" bar flickered to life as dusk fell over Seattle. Enoch stepped inside, the familiar smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke washing over him. Eyes turned his way, and whispers filled the air. He'd been a fixture here, running errands and dreaming of one day taking the stage. Now, he was back, but as a different person.

"Hey, kiddo," a burly man at the bar called out, nudging his friend. "Look who it is."

Enoch forced a smile, his heart pounding. "Hey, Tom."

"We heard about your dad," the man said, his expression a mix of pity and anger. "Damn shame, what he did to you."

"I'm doing alright, thanks for asking," Enoch replied, trying to keep his voice steady. "And don't worry, he won't be bothering us anymore. He's wanted by the police now."

The patrons around them nodded, some offering words of support, others shaking their heads in disbelief. Enoch knew they meant well, but he didn't want to be known as the kid who got beat up by his father.

Enoch weaved his way through the crowded bar, fulfilling orders and dreaming of the day. By the end of his shift, he'd earned a meager $45, but it was enough to buy some grocery for him and his mother.

As he entered their small apartment, the sound of quiet sobs greeted him. His heart clenched at the sight of his mother, hunched over on the couch, tears streaming down her face. He wanted to comfort her, but the words wouldn't come.

Instead, he spotted a broom in the corner and an idea formed in his head. Grabbing it, he stood in front of her, pretending it was a guitar. As the imaginary music started playing in his head, he strummed the broom and began to sing, his voice carrying through the room.

"Do you have the time to listen to me whine,
About nothing and everything all at once?"
His mother looked up, surprise etched on her face. But as she listened, her eyes widened, and a smile tugged at her lips.

Enoch's heart soared. If he could bring her even a sliver of joy, it was worth it.

As Enoch strummed the broom-guitar, he continued to belt out the angsty lyrics, his voice filling the small apartment. "I am one of those melodramatic fools, neurotic to the bone. No doubt about it." He rocked his head back and forth, lost in the music.

His mother couldn't help but chuckle, wiping her tears away. The sight of her son, so carefree and goofy, was enough to momentarily push away her worries.

"Sometimes I give myself the creeps, sometimes my mind plays tricks on me," he crooned, hamming it up for his audience of one.

Enoch caught her smile in the mirror and grinned. He was doing it; he was making her feel better.

"It all keeps adding up, I think I'm cracking up, am I just paranoid or am I just stoned?" he sang, ad-libbing the last part with a wink.

Emma laughed, a genuine, heartfelt laugh that warmed his heart.

Enoch continued his impromptu performance, belting out the angsty lyrics as if his life depended on it. "I went to a shrink to analyze my dreams, she said it's lack of sex that's bringing me down. I went to a whore, he said my life's a bore, so quit my whining 'cause it's bringing her down."

His mother couldn't help but laugh harder, both at the naughty lyrics and her son's dramatic delivery. He was right; he did have a knack for entertaining.

"Sometimes I give myself the creeps, sometimes my mind plays tricks on me," he crooned, before launching into the chorus. "It all keeps adding up, I think I'm cracking up, am I just paranoid? Huh, yeah, yeah, yeah. Grasping to control, so I better hold on."

As he finished, he struck a rockstar pose, pretending to shred on an air guitar. The broomstick in his hand vibrated with imaginary energy, and for a moment, they were transported from their drab apartment to a packed concert hall.

Enoch lowered his "guitar" and bowed, grinning from ear to ear at his mother's applause.

Enoch's heart swelled as his mother hugged him tightly. "I'll ignore the naughty words you snuck in there," she teased, ruffling his hair. "But you made me happy, and I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks, Mom," he mumbled, blushing slightly.

She pulled back, her eyes searching his. "You want to be a lead vocal like your Uncle Johnny?"

Enoch hesitated, then nodded. "Well, I… I want to be a lead vocalist. And form my own band."

His heart pounded in anticipation, waiting for her response. Her support meant everything to him.

To his relief, she smiled. "I will totally support you, my son. I know you can do it."

Relief washed over him, and he hugged her again. "Thank you, Mom."

---

In the Monday morning light, Enoch trudged towards school, his heart heavy with anticipation. As soon as he entered the classroom, all eyes were on him, and he knew word had spread about his father's abuse.

He sat down next to a girl who stood out in the conservative crowd. She had a rebellious edge about her, from her jet-black hair to her dark makeup. She wore a leather jacket adorned with pins and patches of various bands, and her ripped jeans showcased her combat boots.

She didn't spare him a glance, but he couldn't help but steal glances at her throughout the day.

Class after class, he endured the taunts of bullies, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. After all, he had bigger dreams than this small town.

As soon as the bell rang, he practically bolted out of there, making his way to the local rock club.

As Enoch knocked on the club room door, he was taken aback when the person who opened it was the very same girl from his class, the one with the striking rockstar style. Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked him up and down. "What's your business here?" she asked, her voice laced with skepticism.

Enoch met her gaze, unable to hide his amusement at how even her way of speaking oozed attitude. "I'm here to join the club," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

"You want to join?" The girl seemed genuinely surprised. "I don't think you know anything about music."

Enoch bristled. "Don't judge a book by its cover. I've worked in a bar where they played nothing but rock music, and my uncle is the lead vocalist of a famous band. Trust me, I know more than you do, especially about rock music." He couldn't help but brag a little.

The girl snorted, but before she could respond, another teenager emerged from behind her. He was around the same age as Enoch and had an air of confidence about him. "Oh, what do we have here? You say you know about rock music?" he smirked.

Enoch nodded, standing tall. "That's right."

The boy chuckled, sharing a knowing look with girl. "It seems we have a confident one here, don't you think so, Angel?"

Angel just snorted in response.

The boy extended his hand towards Enoch. "My name's Bryan," the boy said, extending his hand towards Enoch. "And you are?"

Enoch accepted the handshake, trying to hide his nervousness. "I'm Enoch."

Bryan grinned. "Well, Enoch, if you think you're so knowledgeable about rock music, let's see what you got. We're having a jam session later today. You're welcome to join us and prove your skills. But be warned, we don't take kindly to posers in our club."

Enoch felt a surge of determination well up inside him. "I'll be there. And I'll show you what I'm made of."

Angel raised an eyebrow, her expression still skeptical. "We'll see about that."

As the day dragged on, Enoch couldn't focus on his classes. His mind was consumed with the upcoming jam session.

He had something to prove, not just to Bryan and Angel, but to himself. After school, he rushed back to the club room.

The room was dimly lit, with posters of famous rock bands plastered on the walls. Bryan and Angel were already there, along with a two other members of the club. They all turned to stare as he entered.

Bryan smirked. "You actually showed up. I'm impressed."

As Enoch entered the dimly lit club room, his gaze fell on the other members of the rockstar band club. Besides Angel, who was still giving him a cold shoulder, and the cocky Bryan, there were two more people. One was a blonde boy with a friendly smile, and the other was a red-haired girl with a shy demeanor.

"This is Ryan," Bryan said, gesturing to the blonde boy, and then he pointed at the red-haired girl, "And this is Elena."

Bryan then looked at Angel, "And since you're already classmates with Angel, I assume you two have met?"

Enoch nodded curtly, trying to hide his irritation at her continued chilly behavior. He reminded himself that he was here to prove himself, not to make friends.

Angel just snorted and turned away, clearly still upset about his bragging earlier. But Enoch didn't let it bother him. In his eyes, everyone in the room was just a kid, even though they were all around the same age. After all, he felt older than them in terms of life experiences.

Ryan and Elena, on the other hand, greeted him warmly, their smiles genuine and welcoming.

"Before you show us what you're made of, Enoch," Bryan said, a smirk playing on his lips, "let us show you how it's done."

"Alright," Enoch replied, trying to hide his nervousness.

Bryan settled behind the drums, and the other members of the band, including Angel, Ryan, and Elena, took their positions. The room was filled with the sound of instruments being tuned, and anticipation hung in the air.

As the band began to play, Enoch couldn't help but be impressed. They were good, really good. Angel's fingers flew across the guitar strings, her eyes locked with his as if challenging him to match her skills. Ryan and Elena were no slouches either, their harmonies blending seamlessly with the music.

Enoch observed them, taking mental notes of their playing styles and dynamics. He knew he had his work cut out for him, but he was more than up for the challenge.

After the band finished their impressive performance, Bryan turned to Enoch with a cunning smile. "Now that we've shown you what we've got, let's see what you've got, Enoch. Prove to us you're worthy of being in our club."

Enoch could practically feel the challenge in the air, and he knew he had to deliver. He looked around the room, meeting each member's gaze, including Angel's, who still wore a smug expression.

"Alright, here goes nothing," he muttered under his breath.

He took the microphone and borrowed Angel's guitar, strumming a few chords to warm up. The melody that flowed from the strings surprised everyone, especially Angel, who raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

Enoch began to sing, his voice filling the room with a raw, emotional power that captivated the audience.

"Here we are in the best years of our lives.
With no way of knowing. When the wheel will stop spinning. 'Cause we don't know where we're going."

As soon as the first verse left his lips, jaws dropped around the room. Even Angel's smug expression faltered, replaced by a look of shock.

Enoch continued to belt out the song, pouring his heart and soul into every lyric. His voice was raspy yet soothing, a perfect blend of pain and defiance that resonated with them.

As Enoch continued to sing, his voice grew more and more impassioned, his every word and note dripping with emotion.

"And here we are on the best day of our lives. And it's a go, let's make it last.
So cheers you all to that. 'Cause this moment's never comin' back."

Enoch strummed the guitar with fervor, his gaze locked onto Angel's as if the song was meant for her alone. Bryan, Ryan, and Elena couldn't help but be pulled into the world he created with his music.

Enoch's voice cracked with emotion as he sang the next verse.

"I used to know her brother. But I never knew I loved her. 'Til the day she laid her eyes on me. Now I'm jumpin' up and down. She's the only one around. And she means every little thing to me."

He improvised the next part, adding a personal touch.

"I've got your picture in my wallet. And your phone number to call it. And I miss you more. Whenever I think about you."

As Enoch continued to sing, his voice was tinged with longing and nostalgia.
"I've got your mixtape in my Walkman'. Been so long since we've been talkin'. And in a few more days.
We'll both hooked up, forever and ever."


Enoch strummed the guitar, his fingers flying across the strings as he poured his heart out through the music.
"And here I am. On the west coast of America. And I've been tryin' to think for weeks. Of all the ways to ask you."

He looked at everyone with emotion in his eyes.

"And now I've brought you to the place. Where I've poured my heart out. A million times, for a million reasons. To offer it to you."

Enoch closed his eyes, humming the next part with so much emotion that it felt like the room itself was holding its breath.

"I used to know her brother. But I never knew I loved her. 'Til the day she laid her eyes on me. Now I'm jumpin' up and down
She's the only one around. And she means every little thing to me."

He then sang the next verse, his voice cracking with emotion.

"I've got your picture in my wallet. And your phone number to call it. And I miss you more.
Whenever I think about you."

Enoch continued to sing, his voice growing stronger with each note, before finally strumming the last chord, allowing the melody to linger in the air.

Enoch strummed the last chord, allowing the melody to linger in the air. Bryan, Angel, Ryan, and Elena were speechless, their jaws hanging open in disbelief. The room was silent for a moment, save for the soft hum of the guitar strings resonating in the air.

Bryan was the first to break the silence, applauding enthusiastically. "Damn, man! I didn't see that coming!"

Ryan and Elena joined in, their applause thunderous in the small room. Angel, however, remained seated, her expression softening ever so slightly.

Bryan stood up and clapped Enoch on the shoulder, a wide grin splitting his face. "Welcome to the club, Enoch. You've got some serious skills, dude."

Enoch couldn't help but grin as he finally joined the club. He glanced around at the stunned faces of the other members, and in his mind's eye, he envisioned them all as his future potential bandmates.

---

(As a gift to you all on my birthday, I'd like to express my gratitude for your support.
If it's alright with you, I was thinking of updating this novel once or twice a week. However, please note that if I update this story on a particular day, I won't be able to release new chapters for my other novels on that same day. I've got a feeling that this novel will be a short story, but I will never truly know...)