The Editor Is An Extra

Chapter 150: Queries 2

Abruptly turning my head, a youth with striking grey eyes and jet-black hair had mysteriously appeared behind me.

"Y-you!’

"Welcome, you’re probably wondering who I am." he smiled in my direction.

He continued to talk, but I didn’t listen to his words. I couldn’t. My mind was too occupied with comprehending the full scope of what was before me.

My mind blanked. I tried to find words to say, but it was to no avail as I couldn’t say anything. As an avid webnovel reader, I had read about many such situations happening to transmigrated individuals, I just didn’t think it would happen to me.

My mind was in a current state of turmoil as I couldn’t find any words to say. I hated being in the dark, and this was one such situation. It just fueled my rage to no end.

"So who are you?" I asked. "No! let me guess!" I interrupted, raising a finger. "The ’real Damon’, or is it perhaps the ’real me’ before I transmigrated?" I smirked waiting to see what his answer would be.

"Wow, you figured it out, can’t say I’m surprised though, knowing you." The replica of myself continued to smile before his body shifted into another form, one I was more than familiar with, and one in which I had lived in for an entire lifetime. And also a face I had almost completely forgotten. Soft brown hair cut in a buzz cut, round brown eyes coupled with an average face, and a mid set figure.

"W..what.." My smirk vanished.

"Haha, just kidding." he burst out laughing. "You should have seen your face." His form rippled and turned back to Damon’s form.

What he interpreted as a joke seemed more like a taunt to me.

I greeted my teeth.

"If you know me like you said, then you would know I’m not a fan of beating around the bush. So who the fuck are you?"

For someone who doesn’t know who he himself is, you sure have are hell bent on knowing who I am." The replica stated as he put his arms elegantly behind his back.

Tch! I was very close to punching this guy’s head off, whoever he is. He was doing nothing but pissing me off. Still, as an esteemed prince such as myself, it wouldn’t do to explode in anger, so I played along.

"You said I didn’t know who I was, so who am I?" I asked.

"Well that’s for you to figure out." he smirked. "Are you Damon Darkfell, the unruly prince who lived his entire life in Nahaar, or are you Evan Dexter, the online context editor who found himself inside a novel he had been working on?"

Out of all the things he said, my focus was only on one thing.

Evan Dexter.

Right, my name wasn’t Damon Darkfell. Evan, that was my name. One that had been completely eluding my mind ever since I found myself in Damon’s body.

Which serves to say, I had been gradually forgetting all my memories, including that of my parents’ which were at best a blur at this moment. Even my own face was only a blur, and I had forgotten all names, even my own. Friends and other family members didn’t even have a spot in my fading memories.

"Ooh, touched a nerve, did I?" The replica continued to smirk.

Alright! that was it!

Without a speck of hesitation, I instantly tried to summon my sword. But soon found out that I couldn’t do so. So instead, I settled for rushing at him.

"Shut the fuck up! I threw a brutal hook to the side of his face, only to stumble forward as my first passed through him as if he wasn’t there.

"The hell..."

Hahahaha! The replica laughed as he said, "You dared to step into my domain, and try to kill me... here?! No, Damon. Unfortunately, killing me won’t be easy. If anything, it’s impossible."

"I said who the fuck are you?!" I spoke through gritted teeth.

"Find who you are first, and then you can get to know who I am." The replica said with still the incredibly annoying smirk on his face.

"Who I was?" I muttered in contemplation. Was I Evan? the online content editor who somehow got into Damon’s body?, or was I Damon?, the unruly prince who somehow gained memories of Evan? Who was I?

It took me a few minutes of intense tug of thoughts before I realized something. I didn’t know who the fuck I was, but whether I was Evan or Damon, or some unholy amalgamation of the two, since when did I start letting others goad me into something.

I realized what he was trying to do, and I was not letting anyone get in my head or manipulate me. The moment that thought occured to me, darkness began to cloud my senses, but just before I lost all vision, I smirked at the replica.

"Fuck you!" I cursed at the replica who still had that annoyingly irritating smile on his face. If only I could touch him, he would have known hell today.

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After Damon disappeared, the replica under the nebulous sky let out a long sigh.

"Well I’m not surprised, With how tenacious he is, it’ll take some more time to get into his head." The replica mentioned.

"Still, the previous iterations have more than taken a toll on his essence, if it were before, this attempt at manipulation wouldn’t have worked in the slightest."

Cough! Cough! Cough!

Suddenly the replica began to cough up blood and staggered. "Shit! I don’t have much time left, guess I’d have to get more radical, lest I fail."

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Within the sprawling city of Darkfell capital, if one were to peek through a particular window of the gigantic black castle at the heart of the city, which was the abode of the royal family, the Darkfells, they’d see a young man yelling and shouting, shouting a chain of profanities and course as he pummeled his pillow.

Like a man possessed, he continued to rain down punches on his pillow until it turned into nothing but tattered fabric and cotton.

He still didn’t stop punching, however, he even added more strength.

If anyone were to see the crazed glint in the handsome lad’s eyes, coupled with the way he drooled while relentlessly punching the remnants of his pillow, they would surely label him as a deranged lunatic.

That deranged lunatic... Well, that would be me. Yeah, I was the one cussing and punching my pillow.

But who could blame me?, I just almost fell into a web of manipulation weaved whatever entity it was wearing my face.

Yes, for anyone audacious enough to question my crazy behavior, I want them to get turned into a sieve by a fucking assault rifle, find their self in a body that wasn’t theirs, and then some entity wearing their face try to get in their head or manipulate them.

Aghh, and people wonder why I hate the mystery genre! I just disliked not knowing things, why the hell can’t people understand that?!

After fuming for a long time, and breaking a few items, like some devices and those ornate gold vases, I finally managed to regain my composure.

Solemnly, I reflected on myself and surveyed the wreckage in my room.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I said to myself, "When did I begin smashing things when I got angry? That’s some rich spoiled brat behavior."

Shaking my head in self- disapproval, I fell back on my emperor sized bed and blankly stared at the intricately designed ceiling above. I had let myself fall into prime Damon’s unruliness.

Well whatever. It wasn’t like I was in my right senses. Still, I felt kind of nice breaking some things.

Bam, Bam, Bam—!!!

A smile crept across my face as I thought that, however, a loud, disruptive banging erupted at my door.

Bam, Bam, Bam—!!!

"Who the hell is it now?!" I yelled, visibly angry.

The door swung open and in came one of the butlers, impeccably dressed in a formal black suit.

He looked at me with sweat dripping down his forehead, bowed a little, and said, "Ah, Your highness... His Majesty and Her Majesty have summoned you. They are waiting for you in the dining room downstairs, along with the rest of the princes and princesses."

At first, I only wanted to scold the butler a little for his loud door-pounding earlier, but after hearing his news, I felt a strong urge to downright strangle him instead. The moment of truth had finally come, I was sure this so called dinner would be a veiled investigation.

But suppressing my irritation, I put on a cheerful smile and yelled, "It’s dinner time I see!"

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