Reincarnated into Another World With Chat GTP-Chapter 11: Your Memories

Ep 11: Your Memories

The moment I sat at my desk and pulled out a blank scroll, I felt it.

That familiar tug.

"GTP," I whispered, eyes narrowing.

"...You ready?"

[Of course. Linking to motor control. Please relax your dominant arm.]

I let go of the pen.

My fingers twitched.

And then—moved.

All on their own.

Just like always.

Lines curved, ink flowed, and my arm became a blur of motion.

[Beginning script layout. Title: Your Memories. Setting: A remote mountain village under a sacred sky.]

My hand moved with elegance I could never replicate on my own.

Every stroke was confident.

Every pause was precise.

I just sat there and watched... as magic unfolded.

[Opening scene: A village girl named Mirah dreams of a life beyond the mountains. She prays to the stars for a miracle.]

"She wants to live in the capital..." I muttered, eyes wide.

[Meanwhile, a city boy named Kael lives in the heart of the empire. Loud, crowded, beautiful—but empty.]

My hand scratched faster. Panels. Faces. Emotions.

[And then—one morning—they wake up in each other's bodies.]

I watched as Kael stared at his reflection in shock, in Mirah's body.

And Mirah screamed inside a bustling tavern, trapped in Kael's.

They left each other notes. Scribbled on arms. Carved into logs.

They argued. Laughed. Fell in love—across time and space.

[But then the switching... stops.]

My fingers slowed.

"...Wait... this is where it breaks me."

[Correct.]

[Kael journeys to find the village. He arrives... and finds only rubble.]

"A comet," I whispered. "It destroyed everything..."

[Three years ago.]

My hand paused over the scroll. Then continued.

[He drinks from the sacred shrine. One last switch.]

[He saves her.]

I could feel it—

The pain. The beauty. The hope. The longing.

[But when they meet again, years later...]

"...They forget each other."

[Yes. But even without their names...]

"They remember their feelings."

My heart was racing.

My hand finally stilled.

Three hundred and nineteen pages.

Complete.

I stared at them in awe.

[Page 319. Completed.]

I sat there, frozen.My hand finally still.

"...It's done?"

[Your Memories. 319 pages. Single-volume manga. Complete.]

I exhaled slowly.

"...We're gonna ruin lives with this one."

[Would you like to initiate the cover design phase?]

"...Yeah."

[Initiating.]

* * *

The scrolls were stacked neatly on my desk.

Three hundred and nineteen pages.

No Chapters. No breaks.

Just a single, soul-crushing, heart-tearing, timeline-bending romance.

Your Memories.

Done.

I leaned back in my chair and let out a breath I hadn't even realized I was holding.

"...GTP."

[Yes?]

"How much should we sell this for?"

[Calculation in progress.]

I waited. Fingers tapping the desk.

[Recommendation: Do not sell it yet.]

I blinked. "...Huh?"

[This story is special. Different. Unlike any of your work currently in the market. It is not a serialized story. It is a standalone emotional experience.]

[The ideal strategy... is to gift the first copy.]

"Gift it?" I raised a brow. "To who?"

[A supporter.]

[Someone whose recognition will bring prestige. Someone whose praise will elevate its status before it even touches the market.]

"...Who?"

[The Princess.]

I sat up a little.

"...You mean Her Highness Her Silent High-Standards Book-Devouring Royal Judge-of-All-Tales?"

[Correct. Her.]

"...Isn't that risky?"

[Incorrect. She is already emotionally invested in your work. Her appreciation is strong, though quietly expressed.]

[Gifting her Your Memories will not only thank her for her subtle support... it will create a ripple effect.]

[Nobles respect her. If she treasures it, they will too. It will become more than a book. It will become a status symbol.]

I stared at the cover again.

Gold-trimmed edges.

A beautiful starlit title etched across the front.

"...So we give her the only existing copy before release."

[Exactly. Make her the first.]

I slowly grinned.

"...Then let's wrap this thing up in silk and send it to the castle."

* * *

The room was quiet.

Princess Serenia sat beneath the gentle light of a crystal lamp, a rare smirk tugging at her lips.

In her hands—an original copy of Titanheart Chronicles: Chapter 3.

She had gotten it from the black market.

Over twenty gold coins. Worth every single one.

The moment she read the scene where Erien stood before the shattered wall, bleeding but unbroken, her fingers clenched the edge of the page.

Her heart beat faster. Her lips parted slightly.

This story... it had her completely.

A soft knock broke the silence.

"...Enter," she said, not looking up.

A maid stepped in with a box wrapped in silver silk.

"Your Highness," she said with a curious tone, "a package has arrived for you. It's from... Sam Avencroft. The author of Titanheart Chronicles."

Serenia's hand froze mid-turn.

Her eyes finally lifted.

"...Give it to me."

She took the package with surprising urgency.

Then, calmly, she waved the maid away.

"You may leave."

The door shut.

The moment it did, she pulled the silk loose and opened the box.

Inside—

This content is taken from freёnovelkiss.com.

A beautifully bound black-and-gold book.

Tucked between the pages, a handwritten note.

Her breath caught as she unfolded it.

To Her Royal Highness Princess Serenia,

Thank you for your support. I may not know the full extent of it, but I know you read my work, even before it was easy to find.

As thanks, I would like to give you this: a full, complete story. Something new. Something personal.

No one else has read it yet. You are the first.

I hope it reaches you the same way your quiet support reached me.

—Sam Avencroft

She stared at the letter for a long moment.

Something stirred in her chest.

A feeling.

One she couldn't name.

She looked at the book.

Your Memories.

"...I wonder what it's going to be about," she whispered.

She placed it gently on the table.

Poured herself a cup of tea she wouldn't touch.

Took a deep breath.

And opened the first page.

An hour passed.

The candle had burned low.

The room was silent again.

Except this time...

There was a single, tiny sound.

A drop.

A tear.

Rolling down her cheek, landing softly on the page.

She didn't notice it until it fell.