《Reinvention of the Master Manipulator》1- Introduction to the Master Manipulator
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"Oh, I love fantasies!" Scribble scribble scribble. "Oh, honey, don't waste your time on guys like that. Go for the strong ones. Protection is the most important thing you can have nowadays." Scribble scribble scribble. "Oh, it's not that hard. Here, watch." I flip to another page as the girl walks up to me. Her pair is a dark blue, cut into a bob. She wore the normal school uniform (a white shirt, blue blazer, and black dress pants. "Hey there." I look at her, a small smirk on my face. "Why, hello." She smiles back. "You alone today?" I pretend to look around. "Hmm, looks like it." Her face beams with confidence, and cockiness, as she asks to take a seat, which I accept. "So, this doesn't seem like your kind of seen." I chuckle. "Felt like I'd do some studying." She raises an eyebrow. "Okay, you got me. Maybe a little procrastinating." She rolls her eyes. "Why am I not surprised?" "I don't know, milady. Perhaps surprise is for the uneducated?" She seems surprised. "You read Kingdom Caverns?" I nod. "Just finished it last week. Moved on to the sequel series. So much worse, honestly." She scoffs. "Understatement of the century. Who thought it would be a good idea to turn an action adventure into a rom-com?" I nod my head. "I know, right? We bought your book for the edgy boys, just give us the edgy boys." She laughs, stuffing under her hand. "Okay, how about Lillith's Grove?" I stroke my chin. "Undecided. There's good and bad." She nods along. "Don't worry. Get to book three and you won't regret it."
I think you get the idea. This chatter went on for maybe 10-15 minutes before her friend tapped her shoulder, a dark look on her face. "Ah, I'm really sorry." The girl in front of me gave her friend a sincere apology. "Hey, trade addresses?" I nod, sliding my finger through the air. A window opens and I send a request to the girl. "Tamila? Nice name." "Not so bad yourself, Francis." I chuckle once more, shaking her hand and watch her walk off. Scribble scribble scribble. I return to the page I'd been writing, before closing the notebook. Another entry complete.
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My father was a stalker. A manipulative, vile piece of trash, using his gift of observation to get ahead of others. He died the center of a gigantic harem, more powerful connections than anyone else in the world, and had managed to turn a struggling family business into the most powerful empire in all of Vernice City. I may hate him, but I can't lie, he was an impressive man, and I suppose I'd be a hypocrite we're I to ever bring up that argument. After all, I was doing the same. I'd returned to my apartment and placed my notebook in a bookcase, filled with 16 other notebooks, each one filled to the brim with my successes of manipulation. I don't wanna say I'm a good person, but I do believe my motives are more tolerable. I just want to make friends, and when you're amazing at people watching, you'll get them. I hopped on my laptop, typing away at the story I'd spent the last week on. I didn't consider it amazing, but It was filled with enough wish fulfillment that nobody would care. I'd risen up the ranks on that website with ease. Hey, I can't blame them. In a place as dead and emotionless as Vernice, you need all the fulfilment you can get. So, yeah, call me a man for the people, or some stupid shit like that. Oh, hey, I'm done. Volume 20 will be out on time after all. I copy the chapter and paste it into an email, sending it to my editor. With that done, I leaned back into my chair, watching the time. Five more minutes before my workout. After that, I hit the library and crunch through another five books to keep up conversation with all the people who seem to love me for liking them. I give a long sigh, running my hands over my face. "Coffee. Right." I walk over to the kitchen and then the fridge, opening it. I grab the cold brew at the back and start to chug it when a window opens. The window displays a guy in a red hoodie, under it the name, "Dave Ha." I tap a button on the earbuds around my neck, plugging one into my ear.
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"Ey, Francis! How's my bud doing?"
"Fantastic, Dave! What can I do for you buddy?"
"Ah, what a great attitude. You wanna meet for lunch?"
I look to my clock. 'If I move my workout to my free period, that'll still give me an hour to relax.' "Sounds good, Dave. Where to?"
"Gaben's? You know their alfredo is to die for!"
I feel vomit rise in my throat. Last I checked, the place was being closed down for health violations. Managed to weasel out another month of service, which was surprising, since more often than not, with enough bothering, the safety body would eventually lay off. Ugh, whatever.
"Sounds perfect. Meet you there." I hang up, scream into a paper bag, and walk out the front door, grabbing a jacket.
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