The Monologue of a Beautiful Stalker

In the completely dark rental room.

No windows, no fresh air.

The entire space was less than 150 square feet.

It could only fit a bed, a desk, a large wardrobe, and a full-length mirror.

The digital drawing tablet on the desk dimly lit up.

The faint blue light reflected in a pair of beautiful eyes, but for some reason, the owner of these beautiful eyes seemed to be frozen in place, motionless.

In the room, cheap takeout boxes were piled like mountains, and the cosplay outfits in the huge wardrobe were somewhat messy;

The blanket on the bed wasn't folded neatly, and for some unknown reason, sharp tools like art knives were thrown beside the pillow.

Standing out from all this was the room's owner, staring blankly at the line of text on the screen in front of the computer desk.

"Life is hard, don't forget your original intention."

The Twitter comment notification stayed there.

Although the accumulated comments and likes numbered 999+, she no longer cared about any praise or abuse.

But the person who left this message was her only hidden follower, the most important person who had been continuously providing her with commissions a year ago, allowing her, a novice artist, to gradually transition to where she was now—to survive until now.

At that time, the part-time Taobao store manager had been very clear: "Lubia, if you bring our store one more negative review this month, pack your bags and get out. We have at least 50 artists, and the negative reviews of the other 49 combined aren't as many as yours alone. Heh, you're not a spy sent by our competitors, are you?"

"..."

Unacknowledged, nowhere to go, no skills, unwilling to sell herself.

Although her Twitter subscriber count was decent, it only provided less than 2,000 yuan in monthly income.

In Tianhai City, where prices were skyrocketing, it wasn't even enough to barely rent this dark rental room.

Fortunately, at that time, she met Boss.

Boss contacted her via email and later threw five commissions her way.

As if knowing her situation, Boss didn't haggle over prices.

At the commercial illustration rate, it was 8,000 per piece, earning her 40,000.

40,000 yuan, even in Tianhai City, would be enough to live frugally for half a year.

Unlike others, Boss seemed very casual, never asking for revisions or multiple modifications.

He even liked letting her express herself freely, only providing a framework, never interfering with anything else.

Most importantly, even though she could only draw big-breasted anime girls, Boss didn't mind, and even praised such works as having character, his tone far from perfunctory.

Gradually, talking to Boss and pestering him became the only interesting thing in her garbage-like life.

Boss was naive, treating her like a brother.

Perhaps in his eyes, she really was just some creepy old otaku?

"Sigh~"

Walking to the mirror, in the blue light from the screen, she gazed at herself.

Black hair reaching her waist, mountains protruding from her chest, toes invisible when looking down.

Her legs, praised by others as perfect, were straight, her waist delicately slim.

Her skin was pink and white, looking soft and smooth to the touch.

The only flaw was the bandage wrapped around her wrist, spotted with blood.

Matching the dried red on the art knife's blade.

"38-year-old unemployed doujin artist" was the disguise she created for herself, making her seem bolder when communicating with the Taobao store manager and other difficult clients, appearing less easy to bully.

But now, she somewhat regretted this disguise.

How should she...

How should she...

Explain it?

If someday, she developed the desire to meet Boss in person...

What expression would he show when he saw her?

Shock?

Confusion?

Disgust?

Or intolerance for the deception?

...

Taking her phone from the heart-shaped leg garter at her thigh, the blue light slowly moved upward.

Illuminating that long snow-white neck, perfect facial contours, delicate nose and black eyes, and those naturally plump, dewy cheeks.

The pure and exquisite features combined to form an ultimate weapon that would make even young girls feel insecure.

She was already 24 years old.

Although she had graduated from the Central Academy of Fine Arts not long ago, due to her social anxiety and not wanting to find work, plus her family's relentless pressure to get married, she had no choice but to pack her bags and come to this city where ordinary people could barely afford to live.

The reflection in the mirror looked beautiful, with a perfect figure and excellent conditions, but in others' eyes, she was nothing more than a tool for lust and release.

Once, a talent agent with ulterior motives approached her asking if she wanted to join a "media company" as a model, earning 30,000 a month, only needing to follow the leader's requirements for photoshoots and cosplay.

She was naive then, only realizing at the company's door that it was a small workshop, and during the interview, they actually required female models to undress.

Watching several other models around her bow their heads for those verbal promises of money, she chose to give up the opportunity and walk away.

Looking back now, how much was her cheap self-respect worth anyway?

It was quite laughable.

Her drawing skills were terrible, only able to draw herself while looking in the mirror, completely unable to draw anything else.

No talent, no other motivation to survive.

She couldn't do physical labor, and moreover, just going out would result in men's lewd gazes licking all over her.

Without realizing it, her social anxiety had gotten even worse.

"Ah."

"At least there's Boss, at least Boss doesn't mind me, treats me like a brother."

Actually, ever since receiving Boss's commissions, she had mustered up the courage to try finding her "original intention" again.

She created a project in a hidden folder, starting to try drawing original characters again.

Every day and night, she stayed in this 3,000-yuan rental room, honing her drawing skills, doing yoga, exercising, surviving on the meager income from cosplay posts on Twitter, waiting.

She had been hoping that Boss would start a new book soon, that he would suddenly notice her improvement.

She had been carefully inquiring, constantly sharing erotic images to figure out Boss's preferences, and creating characters according to his tastes, wanting to touch his heart.

Of course, touching his heart with just her drawing skills wouldn't be enough.

So she made a major decision that all future cosplays would be based on his preferences, completely original.

Let him see that she had never forgotten her original intention, had always been struggling forward.

If under these conditions, Boss gradually came to like her cosplay, wouldn't that indirectly mean he... liked her a bit too?

At that time, using excuses like "Since we're both in Tianhai, why don't we meet to discuss character designs?"...

Wouldn't that be more natural?

"Hehe... Boss..."

Tang Hua turned from the mirror to look at the wall.

One could vaguely see that all three walls, including the ceiling, were completely covered with printed papers of a male college student's social media selfies, ID photos, author profile pictures, subway side profiles, photos of him going to and from school, and candid shots from the breakfast shop below Tianhe Platinum Apartments.

All the printed papers had uniform traces that resembled dried saliva, their uneven adhesive surfaces having endured unknown soakings and washings.

...

...