"Do you believe in magic?"
"Well... Not really."
The sounds of a bustling street reverberated in my mind as figures of people in their early or late twenties staggered past me.
'They reek of alcohol.' I thought to myself as I reached my destination.
I pushed open the door of the convenience store, and the loud bell chimed as I stepped inside the white-lit space.
I glanced around before making my way to the third aisle, where I grabbed some vegetables and a tray of thirty eggs.
"I'll take this," I said, addressing the young woman behind the counter, who appeared to be around my age.
"Oh, hey Jin-sung, we haven't seen each other since last year."
Only when the beautiful woman with black hair casually spoke, did I recognize her. "Yeah, it's been a while, Jinah-ssi," I replied, my tone far from casual.
Blushing slightly, she looked up at me. "Uhmm..." she began shyly. "Are you perhaps free this weekend?"
I could already tell where the conversation was heading. Jinah and I had dated in high school, but I broke up with her almost immediately after.
Why? No particular reason. She was just a little too clingy.
But today, I felt a bit worn out, so I nodded in response.
Jinah's face lit up with joy. "Okay, that will be 12,000 won," she said quickly.
I nodded, placing my phone over the payment monitor. With a 'beep,' the transaction was completed.
I grabbed the grocery bag Jinah had packed and gave a gentle bow before heading for the door.
[See you on Saturday, oppa.]
Jinah's voice note played on a loop in my mind as I sighed and answered the incoming call.
[Jin-sung, why didn't you pick up my calls?]
"Sorry, I've been a little busy," I responded, my voice apologetic as I spoke to my mother, who sounded mildly irritated.
Why wouldn't she be? I was her nineteen-year-old son who decided to abandon high school for writing. And now that it wasn't going well, I had fallen into a depressive state.
[Are you still angry about the way I shouted at you?]
"Why would you think that? I'm totally fine."
I opened the door to my apartment, as the fresh scent of cooked meat mixed with roses wafted into my nose. I could also hear the faint hum of the monitor I had forgotten to turn off.
[Is that meat I smell?]
'How can she smell it over the phone?' I thought, but I couldn't help but smile. My mom had always been a bit oversensitive when it came to me.
Ever since I received the email about my book's serialization being canceled, both my mom, dad, and older sister had been flooding me with calls.
"I didn't know you could smell through the phone, but I'd love to learn that power if I could."
[Hahaha... You should know that your mom is a superhuman.] She responded smugly.
"Now that you can see I'm okay, can you stop worrying so much?"
[...Alright, I won't call you constantly.]
"Thanks, Mom. Love you." I finished the conversation and sank into my chair, tossing the grocery bag into the small kitchen.
"I'm too lazy to cook."
A sudden thought crept into my mind. I didn't want to follow it, but without realizing it, my fingers moved the mouse, opening the email app.
Right there, in bold letters, it read:
TALES OF HEROES AND DEMONS HAS BEEN CANCELLED.
I rested back on the head rest, staring at the message for what felt like the hundredth time.
Tales of Heroes and Demons—a web novel that had taken the world by storm, soon climbing to third place on web novel rankings.
During its prime, I felt somewhat successful. I had a faithful readership and a loyal fanbase. Best of all, I loved my story.
Born into a family of four, with a father obsessed with anime and webtoons, I immersed myself in the community faster than most, just as I did with chess, which my mother played.
Bedtime stories were replaced with watching popular shows or learning Japanese instead of Korean.
My father would always tell me about the shows from his time, even those that only the true enthusiasts of culture would know.
I cherished those days and dreamed of living that life, maybe a massive gate would open in Korea, sending monsters swarming in, and I would be one of the few who awakened as an SSS rank, beginning my heroic journey.
Or perhaps I'd wake up in a different reality where my father was an SS rank in a world of hunters, and I would start as an E rank, leveling up as I went.
But I knew better than to expect reality to match fiction. Even if it did happen, I would have less than a 10% chance of being the protagonist.
Why? Because I didn't fit any of the protagonist traits.
Trauma? None. Maybe a scary horror movie I watched as a kid, or the imaginations of my nails breaking when closing a door or getting trapped in an elevator without a beautiful girl by my side.
Orphan? Not even close. I had a pretty loving family, even if they were annoying at times.
Poor? No. I didn't grow up in wealth, but my parents provided everything I needed.
Fatherless or motherless? No.
An abusive family? No.
Bullied? Maybe a little.
Sickly with a badass maid? ...I doubt anyone in their right mind would have that.
An undying passion for a book or a sport? No. I didn't care much about most things. For me, there was always a replacement for material things.
The heart of a hero or a heart of a demon? Hah. Like I could wake up one day thinking of saving someone, or ruining someone's life.
All this meant one thing: I was just another person you could find in any corner of the world. Not an extra, but a random person without any distinctive feature. At least an extra had a title.
I closed the message from XOR, the number one web novel platform, and another message came in, not from Insta or VidTok, but from an unknown reader named 'TTT.'
"Now that isn't just ominous, does he mean to reference, the Truck, Transmigration, Tensei meme, I thought that it was already outdated."
I sighed. It wasn't like I was obligated to answer my readers anymore.
My book had been canceled, and so had my exploitative contract.
Upload four books per day. Always listen to your editors. Readers' opinions are final.
Even then, people still found something to complain about.
"The chapters aren't enough."
"Why is Matthew acting like that?"
Yeah, screw all of you. The story I wrote with so much effort, the novel I poured my heart into, something I wanted my dad to read and brag about. A story I just wanted to complete.
Ruined. And for what? A shitty fanbase.
"Now they complain about the story being bad. Who do they think made it like that?" I muttered, irritation lacing my voice.
"Some even said it was because I'm still a teenager. As if that were the problem. Many adults are more childish than kids."
I clicked my tongue loudly, slamming the delete button and opening the new message.
[Good day, Author-nim.]
That was the first line I read. I scrolled down, reading the rest of the spam message.
[Are you tired of life?]
"No," I answered aloud, even though I knew he couldn't hear me through the screen. Still, I felt compelled to reply.
Except for my dwindling writing career, everything else in my life was fine. So why would I be tired of it?
[Do you want to finish it? Your story, I mean. You have regrets, don't you?]
I inhaled deeply, staring at the screen that illuminated my neat apartment.
I reached toward the keyboard. It had become second nature—answering every reader.
"Yes, I do."
As though waiting for my reply, a new message arrived.
"😁👍"
My eyes widened at the absurdity of the response. "Emojis?" I asked myself.
I reached for the keyboard again, but froze midway as another message popped up.
"🛸📖🌍💫"
"What?" I murmured, confused.
Before I could respond, the legs of my chair creaked, and suddenly I was falling to the ground.
My head slammed into the tiled floor, sending shockwaves of pain through my skull.
I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling blood rush to my head, making me dizzy.
Realizing my life was slipping away, I forced my eyes open.
But to my surprise, I wasn't in my apartment anymore.
Two boys stood before me, and my body trembled, not only from the pain but also from the absurdity of the situation.
My body felt completely alien to me, and the clothes I wore clung to my sweaty skin as if they belonged to someone else. The fresh scent of spring felt foreign. The white surroundings, everything.
"What the hell," I muttered, struggling to speak. My voice was cracked and sore.
The boys looked down at me like I was some kind of plaything.
Beside me floated a sky-blue, game-like interface.
This wasn't my world.
[Welcome Author Cha Jin-sung to the world of Meltonia... Assimilating with current user.]
'I've been transmigrated.'