(Image source: Generated by Disco Diffusion AI)
Having finally escaped the “comparison queen,” the trio’s conversation drifted back to Story-Command.
Yay thought about those monster-like things—those must be Story-Blights, right? Not only were they pitch black and creepy, but their bodies were full of broken, incomplete descriptions. In contrast, the “Story-Command” like the ghost girl and Director Lin’s UFOs were so complete, Yay could even read different versions of their stories. Maybe she was starting to get the hang of this.
Xin-Cheng Liu rubbed her hands together, eager as she flipped open her textbook. “If creating can summon Story-Commands, does that mean we can generate whatever we like? I could just bring my favorite stuff to life!”
“Favorite stuff…” In Yay’s mind, all she could think of was BL. Instantly, a little theater of daydreams exploded. If her own BL stories turned into Story-Commands, would there be an 18+ restriction? If she tried in secret, would anyone even notice?
“I like to write weird fantasy and fanfics,” Xin-Cheng confessed, a bit embarrassed as she rubbed her nose. “What if all the Story-Commands I summon end up weird too?”
“I like fantasy too. I’ve dabbled in a bit of everything,” Yay admitted quietly to herself—though honestly, she’d tried every kind of BL story and dropped all of them.
Yuni chimed in, “I write crack-fics.”
“Haha! Humblebrag?” Xin-Cheng thought she was joking.
“Crack-fics are great. They get tons of reactions and reposts, and some people even write roasting posts. It’s always lively—everyone loves being trolled.” Yuni said it like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Xin-Cheng was shocked. “You might be a genius!”
Yuni even looked a little bashful. “Honestly, I kind of enjoy seeing everyone get utterly wrecked by a troll fic.”
One second, Yay was proud of her sister for getting praised; the next, she was embarrassed and pretended not to know her.
“Fandom is always lively—especially the BL crowd,” Xin-Cheng said, unfazed, then excitedly asked, “Are you into BL or yuri or anything?”
“I’ve read some, but I’m not super into it,” Yuni shook her head.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkd8qvE4BiW
Yay could only sigh—she’d tried to drag her sister into the BL pit, but Yuni just never cared about romance.
Yay herself was a closet fujoshi, and used to think all fanfic girls were the same. Then she went looking for more content, got sucked into the wild world of fanworks, and was so shocked by some of the more extreme fics she almost ran away.
To survive in the fandom, you needed top-tier “dodging bad fic” skills, or the ability to ignore every sort of criminal plotline and character possession.
Now, meeting another fanfic girl meant one more question—are our OTPs the same? If not, there might be drama.
Yay tentatively asked, “Have you read Ordinary Guy 100?”11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCoYGccW7N1
Xin-Cheng’s eyes lit up. “Yes! I binged it all summer! The master-and-apprentice pair are killing me—I’m so deep in the ship it’s not even funny! You too?”
Same ship! Yay quietly pumped her fist.
“That’s the best age-gap ship I’ve ever had!” Xin-Cheng said excitedly.
Not only same ship—no shipping wars!
The comic’s art was so niche, there weren’t many shippers. There was even a meme: “If you meet another shipper, you have to marry them.” Now Yay had met a perfect-match shipper—was this fate?
She couldn’t help blurting, “Wife, please marry me!”
Xin-Cheng gasped and covered her face. “What? Same ship! Marriage! It’s destiny!”
Yuni just watched, as if her hands were subconsciously looking for popcorn.
“Alright, alright—whether it’s older-younger, master-apprentice, or brotherly love, we can get married after class. It’s starting now,” said the teacher, who had arrived at some point and interrupted their “proposal” with a casual tone.
The teacher was a tall, slightly graying man with a little mustache—the kind Yay called “an old man” by default.
Mortified at having been overheard, Yay wanted to crawl under her desk and disappear. Wait, did the teacher just throw in a ship hint…?
Xin-Cheng stared at the teacher with a complicated look, muttering, “Wait, is he a brother-shipper? Cult behavior!”
Yay nodded secretly.
There was no blackboard—only a stage-like podium. The teacher wrote in midair, a string of names appearing. Standing between the glowing letters, he announced, “Hello, everyone. I’m your Introduction to Story-Command teacher, Hong-Tai Luo.”
The names faded away. Luo looked around the class and smiled, “Anyone here repeating the class? So quiet—guess not. Or maybe no one wants to talk to a nosy old man?”
The class chuckled warmly.
“So, does anyone know what Story-Command is?”
The students whispered. Zui-Yue Ye spoke first: “Broadly, it’s like magic—using words to control things?”
“Very good. That’s an easy way to understand it. But let’s learn the formal definition. Please open your textbooks.” He had everyone check off “Introduction to Story-Command” in their table of contents, and the lesson’s text appeared on the previously blank page.
Yay shifted her book over for Yuni, but Yuni could only shake her head—her page was still blank.
Thankfully, Hong-Tai Luo started reading and writing at the same time, his words and diagrams appearing in the air above the stage:11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ20h0CC5jLH
“When humanity first built civilization, the moment we started naming things, the named object gained—Story-Command.”
“Early schools of thought believed names themselves had power—knowing the true name meant controlling it. In the East, talismans and onmyoji summonings; in the West, demon contracts, true name summoning, and so on.”
Covers of various stories and works featuring magic and contracts popped up above the stage.
“Even in a Storybound society, these ideas are widespread, forming the backbone of many literary and media works.” He added, “Storybound means ordinary people who can’t see narrative descriptions.”
Yuni scribbled in Yay’s book: Then I’m Storybound.
Yay replied: You’re the Muggle hiding among wizards.
They shared a grin and quickly erased the messages.
“But Story-Command isn’t just about names,” Luo continued, unaware there was a Storybound student in his class. “As brilliant writers pushed the limits of language, Story-Command shifted from contract-style ‘names as spells’ to a more design-oriented ‘how to give meaning.’”
“For example, Cinderella’s glass slippers turn rags into finery; the red shoes force the wearer to dance. Both are shoes, but their Story-Command differs based on the tale—the key is the meaning assigned by the story.”
He conjured up images of glass slippers and red shoes.
Yay’s eyes sparkled—Cinderella’s Story-Command meant free pretty dresses? Amazing!
“Why does giving meaning work through stories?”11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEgLi6rKXJJ
He wrote two terms: “Fame-Source” and “Genesis-Source.”
“There are two sources of power for Story-Command. First is the Fame-Source from being widely known. Second is the Genesis-Source—having a complete, internally consistent setting.”
Images flashed by: news stories, memes, academic knowledge, a flood of information.
“Fame-Source means drawing power from widely recognized ideas—the more people know it, the stronger it is. Since writing began, humanity has built up a huge pool of info. Education, media, culture, legend—if you’ve heard it or read it, you get it.”
“These days, with information overload, Fame-Source stories rise and fall quickly. Even Storybound can use these, like memes, ‘blessed posts,’ or chain curses online.”
“In short: the more people know, the stronger the Story-Command.”
The scene shifted to fantasy—elves firing arrows, dragons breathing fire, dwarves forging metal, an isekai world coming to life.
“On the other hand, the Genesis-Source comes from creators building entire worlds—drawing meaning from ‘realness born of fiction.’ It’s tough, requiring logical, cultural, and systemic thinking. If your worldbuilding slips, the Story-Command collapses.”
“But if you get it right, your unique Story-Command is stable and long-lasting—like Marelin High School itself.”
Luo paused for a summary.
“Fame-Source and Life can get confusing at first, but the main difference is whether the power depends on how widely it spreads. Most Story-Commands draw from both, but which is stronger depends on the story. For instance, Marelin High isn’t famous, but its rules are complete, so it’s a Genesis-Source type.”
“And since stories carry information and meaning, they’re the best way to create Story-Command.”
Seeing many students still lost, Luo dismissed the “Genesis-Source” note, and enlarged “Fame-Source.”
“Let’s focus on Fame-Source for today. When I say ‘ocean,’ what do you think of? Let’s look at a Story-Command from that source.”
With that, the Forest Classroom transformed into a boundless ocean—like the whole class had been teleported to sea. Only the mushroom desks still floated in place, reminding them this had started as a classroom.
Shouts and screams rang out as students clung to their seats, terrified they’d fall in. Yay clung to her desk to keep her book dry, all the while muttering internally: What is the teacher doing, stranding us on the ocean out of nowhere?
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