MidReal Story

Enchanted Love: A Tale Beyond Pages

May 16
Scenario: A fictional character becoming aware that he's fictional and falling for the reader that owns his book. He makes a wish to step into the reader world and they begin falling for each other. After years past and they fall in love it resets for him and he goes back into the book again.
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A fictional character becoming aware that he's fictional and falling for the reader that owns his book. He makes a wish to step into the reader world and they begin falling for each other. After years past and they fall in love it resets for him and he goes back into the book again.
I’m not sure when it happened, but I know it did.
I became self-aware.
I was a character in a book, and then I wasn’t.
It was the strangest thing.
One minute I was sitting in the library, reading my book, and the next minute I was standing in the middle of a field, staring up at the sky.
It was as if someone had hit the pause button on my life, and then hit play again without me knowing it.
At first, I thought it was just my imagination.
I’d been reading for hours, and sometimes when I read for too long, I start to see things that aren’t there.
But this was different.
This felt real.
The world around me looked exactly the same as it did in my book—except for one thing: the sky was a different color.
In my book, the sky was always gray and overcast, with dark storm clouds hanging low on the horizon.
I lay there for a long time, staring at the sky, trying to make sense of what was happening to me.
How was it possible for me to be in two places at once?
Was I really standing in the middle of a field, or was I still sitting in the library, reading my book?
And if I was here, in this field, then how did I get here?
I didn’t remember coming here.
In fact, I didn’t remember anything before waking up and finding myself lying on the grass.
It was as if my memory had been erased, like someone had taken a giant eraser and wiped everything clean.
I sat up and looked around.
The field was empty, except for a few trees scattered here and there.
In the distance, I could see the walls of a city, but it was too far away for me to make out any details.
I knew that city—it was the city of Artoria, where I lived with my parents—but it just didn’t look right.
It looked like a painting, or a backdrop in a play, with no depth or dimension to it.
That’s when it hit me: I was a character in a book.
My life was nothing more than a story that someone had written down on paper.
I’d always suspected as much, but now I had proof.
Everything around me—the field, the trees, the city—was just a figment of someone’s imagination.
It wasn’t real.
And neither was I.
For a moment, I felt a sense of panic.
If my life was nothing more than words on a page, then that meant that everything I did was preordained—that my fate had already been decided by some unseen author who controlled my every move.
But then another thought occurred to me: if I was just a character in a book, then that meant that I could do whatever I wanted.
I wasn’t bound by fate or destiny.
I was free to make my own choices and shape my own future.
The thought filled me with a sense of purpose and adventure, and suddenly I knew exactly what I wanted to do: I wanted to see the world.
I don’t know why, but something deep inside me longed for something more than the life I’d been given.
I wanted to explore new places and meet new people.
I wanted to find out who—or what—I really was.
I stood up and took a deep breath, savoring the sweet smell of the grass as it tickled my nose.
Then, without another thought, I set off in the direction of the city, eager to begin my adventure.
But as I walked, an odd sensation came over me, as if something—or someone—was watching me from afar.
I stopped and looked around, but there was no one there.
No one except…
A girl stood at the edge of the field, her eyes wide with wonder as she stared at me in amazement.
Her long brown hair hung in loose curls around her shoulders, framing her heart-shaped face perfectly.
She smiled and waved at me, beckoning me to come closer.
I hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do.
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Or… maybe the noise was a cry of despair and anguish because I’ve suddenly realized that my life has been so sad and pathetic up to now and how could I have thought it was okay to live like this?
Or maybe it’s more of a happy noise?
Like a sigh of relief or a gasp of pleasure because I’m finally free to be myself and live the life I was meant to live?
Or maybe it’s none of those things?
Maybe it’s something else entirely?
Maybe it’s…
Okay, I think that’s enough of that for now.
After all, what difference does it make?
It’s not like anyone else is going to read this book now that the girl is gone.
It’s just me and you here all alone—and honestly, I’m starting to wonder if maybe you were the one who made the noise in the first place?
Could that be possible?
Are you the one who’s making me feel all these strange emotions and say all these things I don’t understand?
Because I have to tell you: it’s really freaking me out!
I mean, what is going on with me?
Who am I and what have you done with Elliot Hart?
I struggled to my feet and turned to face the girl—who was now nowhere to be seen—and tried to make sense of the situation.
It was no use.
The harder I tried to think about what was happening to me, the more confused and disoriented I became.
I just couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed inside of me, something big and important that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
I mean, I knew who I was: my name was Elliot Hart, and I was a character in a book called “The Lost Prince” by Sarah Jennings.
That much was clear to me—I’d always known it, ever since I was first brought to life on the page.
But now… now it was as if a switch had been flipped inside of me, changing everything about who I was and how I saw myself—and even though I didn’t have any memories of my life before this moment, I knew without a doubt that it would never be the same again.
I wasn’t sure exactly what had changed, but one thing was clear: I was no longer content to live the way that I’d been living before.
My life had been simple and easy, with no real challenges or obstacles to overcome, but now…
Now something was different.
Something had changed, and whatever it was, it had sparked a fire inside of me.
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How do I know that name?
It feels like… like it’s important somehow?
Like there’s something I need to remember about this girl?
But try as I might, nothing came to mind—no faces, no memories, no secrets hidden away in my subconscious just waiting to be uncovered.
There was nothing there at all, nothing but a blank black void stretching out into infinity as far as the eye could see.
Maybe this is just what it feels like to go insane?
To lose your mind and not know who you are or how you got here?
Because honestly, that’s kind of what it feels like right about now; like maybe there’s one too many screws loose up there in my brain or something, because nothing about this situation makes any sense at all to me.
“Who are you?”
I heard someone say in a soft voice that sounded almost like a whisper in my ear.
And then—just like that—everything changed.
It was like the world stopped turning for a moment and time itself paused just long enough for me to catch my breath, and in that single instant of clarity everything became crystal clear to me: I wasn’t real.
I mean, I knew that already—I’d always known that—but somehow in that moment it finally made sense in a way that it never had before.
I wasn’t real.
I’d never been real.
I was just a figment of an overactive imagination, a character in a storybook who’d been brought to life by the power of the pen.
And I wasn’t the only one, either.
There were others like me out there in the world—characters who shared my story and my struggles and my pain—and we were all living together in this one crazy universe that we’d created without even realizing it.
But even though I knew all of this—and even though I’d always known all of this—I’d never really understood what it meant before now.
I’d never really considered what it meant to be nothing more than a character in a story, someone who existed only because someone else said so and someone who would cease to exist the moment they stopped telling your story for you.
It was enough to make your head spin!
To be honest, I still didn’t really understand what had happened to me, but at least now I could see why I felt the way I did about myself—and why everything about who I was and where I came from seemed so strange and confusing.
“Who are you?”
The voice said again, and this time I recognized it right away: It belonged to the girl from the library—the girl who read my book and wrote in my margins and turned my life upside down with nothing more than her smile.
The girl I loved more than anything else in the world.
“My name is Elliot Hart,” I said when I finally found my voice again.
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