Last week, on a whim, I sketched a scene where the hero and heroine chase the aurora together.
Pulled an all-nighter fleshing it out.
Draft after draft, I'd show him the fresh storyboards.
He nodded, "Not bad, I'll post this soon."
I kept tweaking it all week.
As soon as she logged on, Lily Evans dropped a video montage of her aurora adventure.
Just now, James urged me to sketch out a concert scene.
My grip on my phone tightened, wishing I could crush it.
A deep sorrow was swallowing me whole.
Yet, not a single tear fell.
The editor hadn't even hung up yet and was pitching ideas.
"The drama's buzzing pretty well."
"Got next week's content? If not, let's roll with what the netizens want—a concert scene to keep the hype alive."
My voice shook as I replied, stunned, "This comic ends here. Permanently."
The editor was speechless, forgetting to ask if something was off with me.
As I cleaned up my drawing table, I said, "Nothing's wrong, just sick of sketching the same old lead. Time to break new ground."
On my way to sort things at the office.
The editor tried to talk me down the whole way—contract breach fines, not to mention copyright fees were steep.