Hi, dear diary.

I know what you expect me to do now, dear diary. You expect me to fill your pages with recounts of my sexual experiences, with descriptions of loud orgasms and impressive cumshots. Don't you?

Well, find something else to jack off your conceptual penis to, dear diary, for this is not going to happen. You see, today, it was a peaceful day, a day nothing exciting happened. I just chilled in the academy premises and enjoyed myself, surrounded by beautiful ladies, without having sex at all! Yes, dear diary, believe it or not, there are days when even I, the great Kirito Sama, who has a harem of girls at his disposal, do not happen to have sex!

Anyway, today, Seven called me to her dorm room. Truth be told, at first, I thought she wanted sex. Soon, though, I found out that my 13 year old friend with benefits was not planning to be statutorily raped by me today.

So, do you dear diary want to know what she had called me for? You don't? Shut up, I'm gonna tell you anyway!

She wanted to show me the first draft of a novel she had written. Yeah, Seven wants to become a novelist someday. She has the same dream as me!

I raised an eyebrow. 'I thought your dream was to become a multiple nobel winning scientist who will solve the world hunger and supervise the first human mission to Jupiter,' I reminded her.

'Yeah, I want that too,' Seven scoffed impatiently. And, before I could further react, she dragged me over to her laptop, forced my butt to the swivel chair in front of the desk and practically commanded me to start reading.

I read it for a while. I admit it was hilarious. But not good hilarious! It was so badly written that it was laughable!

'So?' Seven, who was sitting on her bed, bounced eagerly.

I sighed and caused the swivel chair to move closer to her. 'So, if I got it right, in the dystopian world your novel takes place in, the power elite, in an attempt to enforce a global dictatorship, convinced everybody that a lethal virus was threatening humanity. A virus that did not actually exist!'

'Yes, yes,' Seven nodded with a lovely, childlike smile.

'And all people bought that story,' I carried on. 'And they agreed to be locked in their houses for weeks, to wear masks everywhere they went and to be vaccinated with suspicious products.'

Seven nodded once more.

I couldn't help bursting into laughter.

Seven pouted.

'Come on, Seven, you need to try a lot harder to become a successful author,' I truthfully advised my friend. 'I know it's just fiction, but your story must be at least somewhat believable. If the power elite tried that scheme in real life, nobody would fall for their bullshit.'

'My novel is a masterpiece,' Seven insisted and stubbornly stomped her foot.

I laughed again.

Lol, virus pandemic. Where does that silverhead come up with such stuff?