First of all, I'm sorry.

That's the end of the book.

There are many reasons for this.

But the most fundamental thing is that it is accompanied by the deepening of writing.

The book's birth defects began to seriously shackle my creative thinking.

In fact, I had considered this possibility before I wrote it.

Imprisonment is a way of writing that dooms the protagonist to lose some of his motivation.

This will lead to a lack of tension in the subsequent plot.

I just didn't expect it to be so serious-

You can see it, too.

The further I write, the more boring it becomes, I can't even talk about the plot, and it's even more painful for me personally, and I want to write some plot, as if I'm tied hand and foot.

It turns out.

Congenital deficiency is congenital deficiency.

I can't stand myself writing such boring words anymore.

What I write is disgusting to myself.

I can't describe the feeling......

For our supportive friends.

I'm so sorry.

This will be followed by a break for a while.

Will probably try again.

Or maybe not write it.

See you soon.

……

"Eight Hundred Years of Tribulation, I Have Become a Forbidden Life" is not struggling, cut is in the hand, please wait a moment,

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