Teleported into My Own Novel as the Author!

The city was quieter here, the usual din of Oryn-Vel's bustling squares and alleyway chatter reduced to an occasional murmur in the distance. This part of town—wedged between the merchant quarter and the residential districts—was neither particularly rich nor particularly poor. It was a place of transition, where people came and went without drawing too much attention.

Char followed Tess through a winding path of backstreets, his new boots clinking softly against the cobblestone. The shed they approached was unremarkable—just a small, weathered wooden structure nestled between two taller buildings. Ivy clung stubbornly to the sides, and a rusted padlock hung uselessly from the latch, already broken.

Tess knocked twice, paused, then knocked three more times.

The silence stretched for a beat before the door creaked open.

Inside, a single candle flickered on a rickety wooden table. Stacks of parchment and scattered playing cards covered most of the surface, along with a half-empty bottle of something amber-colored. The room smelled faintly of cloves and something sharper—perhaps ink, perhaps something less legal.

And then Char saw her.

His breath caught in his throat.

The woman leaning against the back wall was—there was no other way to put it—the hottest person he'd ever seen in his life. She was lounging lazily, one leg crossed over the other, her boot tapping idly against the wood. A lock of dark, wavy hair framed her sharp cheekbones, and her golden eyes gleamed with interest as she looked him over.

She wore a fitted black vest over a dark green shirt, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, exposing tattooed forearms. A dagger was strapped to her thigh, and her lips curled into something between amusement and knowing mischief.

"Well, well," she drawled, stretching out her arms before crossing them again. "Didn't think I'd be seeing you so soon, Tess."

Tess smirked. "Figured it was time for a check-in, considering recent… events."

The woman's gaze flicked back to Char, dragging over him like she was assessing a weapon rather than a person. "And who's the stray?"

"Charon," Tess introduced. "A recent addition to our little circle."

The woman's eyes sparked with something—humor, intrigue, maybe both. "Charon, huh? That name's a little dramatic."

Char cleared his throat. "You should see the alternatives."

She let out a low chuckle. "Oh, I like him."

Tess rolled her eyes. "Elyan, focus."

Char blinked. Elyan. Another name he didn't recognize.

First Rook, and now this woman. His world—the one he had created—was growing beyond his control, filling in gaps he had never written. He had never designed her, never given her a backstory, never even imagined her.

It was unsettling.

And yet, he couldn't deny the thrill of it.

Elyan stretched again, then pushed herself off the wall and sauntered toward the table, picking up the bottle and taking a casual sip before speaking. "You're here about Roake and Marrow, I assume."

Tess nodded. "The Syndicate's bound to be in chaos. I want to know how deep the cracks are."

Elyan exhaled, rolling the bottle between her fingers. "Deep. But not as deep as you'd hope. Marrow's death was a surprise, sure, but not an earth-shattering one. He had a lot of enemies, and a lot of them are seeing this as an opportunity."

Char frowned. "And Roake? He was Syndicate, wasn't he? Why would he kill Marrow if they were working together?"

Elyan gave him a long, measured look. Then, slowly, she smiled.

"See, that is the question everyone's asking," she said, perching on the edge of the table. "Roake wasn't just Syndicate—he was in deep. Trusted. Reliable. No one expected him to turn on Marrow, and yet, he did. And now that he's dead too, it's left a gaping hole in the power structure. Every major player is scrambling to fill it."

Tess tapped a finger against her arm, thoughtful. "So who's making the biggest moves?"

Elyan shrugged. "A few names are being tossed around. The Syndicate's got a long list of ambitious bastards, and with Marrow gone, they're all smelling blood in the water. The problem is, without Roake to back anyone specific, no one has a clear advantage. It's a free-for-all."

Char processed this slowly. Marrow had been a high-ranking member of the Syndicate. Roake had been one too. And yet Roake had killed him, only to die at Ishmael's hands right after.

It didn't make sense.

Unless something had happened—something Char hadn't written.

Had Roake been planning to betray the Syndicate all along? Or had there been another force at play, something Char had never accounted for in his original drafts?

The thought unsettled him.

Tess glanced at Char, then back at Elyan. "And what about the smaller players? Any rumors worth following up on?"

Elyan leaned forward, lowering her voice just slightly. "There's talk of a meeting. A high-profile one. The kind that doesn't get written down anywhere."

Char's heart kicked up a notch. "When?"

"Two nights from now," Elyan said. "Location's still unclear, but I have someone working on that. If you're planning to crash the party, you'll want to move fast."

Tess grinned. "Oh, we plan to."

Elyan's eyes flicked to Char again, amusement dancing in their golden depths. "Well, Charon, looks like you're getting thrown into the deep end."

Char exhaled. As if I wasn't already.

Tess pushed off the wall. "We'll be in touch, Elyan."

Elyan smirked. "Looking forward to it."

As Char and Tess stepped back out into the alley, the door clicking shut behind them, Char exhaled.

"You good?" Tess asked.

He nodded slowly. "Yeah. Just… thinking."

About the Syndicate. About Roake. About how this story was spiraling beyond what he had originally imagined.

And about how, whether he liked it or not, he was now a part of it.