"Writer, this isn't appealing to the current market, remember what we talked about a marketable main character?"
"Yes,"
"This isn't marketable,"
"I made him super cool…"
"He destroyed the world, writer,"
I blinked at my laptop. Then at my editor on the video call. Then back at my script, where the words massacre, annihilation, and blood-drenched field of bones flashed in cheery 11pt Calibri.
Okay. Maybe they had a point.
But hear me out—he was cool. Bloodthirsty, morally bankrupt, and violently unstable… but cool.
My editor sighed, peppered eyebrows scrunching up a bit. "Writer…. Let's co-operate well together,"
Before I could even get a word in, the screen went black. I blinked, looking at the black screen before sighing and lying back at my chair.
I turned my laptop back on and opened my document, the document was littered with concept art of my main character.
Yoon JieMi. I had borne the idea of Yoon JieMi when I was 17, two years after my mother died of cancer, and since then I had rewritten him over 20 times.
Everytime was so different from the predecessor it was hard to remember who Yoon JieMi really was. I was at my 20th rewrite and it had once again been rejected at the testing phase by the readers.
I opened the app Webbooks and scanned through the comments.
🧢BigDongSlayer92:
Bro spent 10 chapters crying and killing randoms for "aesthetic." Is this a fantasy novel or his diary? 💀
👊BeastFist:
How is this guy the MC? No power system, no clear goal, just trauma dumping with a body count. He needs a therapist, not a stat screen.
🪦SwordSaintAlpha:
Writer thinks making him mysterious = deep. But all I see is a TikTok villain with mommy issues.
🤡ClownGang:
Another mentally unstable main character who talks like a philosopher and acts like a serial killer. We get it. He's dark 🙄
🎯RankChaser13:
Men, ts is buns 😭
I gritted my teeth, forcing myself from replying these hating comments. The more I scrolled I saw more vile comments but they were one to two good ones.
📉PowerScalingZeno:
Ass lol
🎮MechJunkieX:
Honestly I'm sticking around because if the writer can pull off his spiral into god-tier madness, it might hit. Might.
🛡️PlotArmorHater:
Bro killed a beast that wiped a guild solo in sandals and we're supposed to believe this is grounded? 😂
🧊VoidGear:
Weirdly invested. He's not likable, but something about how unhinged he is feels different. If he gets a proper rival, I'm in.
💬OldTimer:
I've been reading Webbooks since the Xinxia Golden Age. This ain't it. Too edgy, too slow, not enough discipline.
Above all else, all I had to hold onto was the comment of one reader that was obsessed with JieMi. I had always assumed she was a female readers that merely fantasized about JieMi but didn't really care about the plot.
It was from a user with no profile picture. Just a name that sounded fake.
She never criticized the plot. Never complained about the pacing, or the systems, or the logic gaps.
Just paragraphs of emotional breakdowns about him.
💌DearDove:
Licklicklick
💌DearDove:
I feel so bad for JieMi. He doesn't deserve this.
She didn't care about world-building. She didn't care about logic gaps. She just wanted him. Every iteration of him. The first time I saw her comments, I thought she was trolling.
Still… despite how… weird she might be, she still was my most faithful reader. So I fought my no reply rule by clicking to reply to her comment.
"Thank you for reading all these years…" I didn't really know what to say aside from this. I have been writing Yoon JeiMi's story since I was 17. I was now 24, I felt like it was time to hang up the boots.
The World's Most Hated Awakener… the tragic story of the monster Yoon JeiMi.
It appeared that being a writer wasn't the right path for me as I had thought. I felt undeniable guilt about leaching off my father all these years and knew it was time to get a real job.
It was time to send Yoon JeiMi off…. Strangely this thought caused a strange biting sensation in my chest that made me wildly uncomfortable.
I suppose it was impossible to not be attached to a character you wrote for 6 years.
Before I could log out from my account, I received a message from DearDove.
💌DearDove:
Don't let go of JeiMi dear writer, you have my support all the way from Korea! Fighting!
I blinked at the comment, unable to handle what I was feeling while looking at it. How was she aware that I was going to give up on my book?
I shook my head and logged out, standing up to stretch. I was craving some K-golf candy but at the same time I had left the house in the morning and didn't really want to leave the house, besides it was raining.
Yawning I decided to hit my bed.
I didn't sleep.
I tried.
Swore I did. Swore I shut everything down, buried my laptop under three dead drafts and a hoodie I hadn't washed in weeks. But my brain wouldn't shut up.
My whole room felt like it was waiting for something.
Buzz.
Once.
Twice.
I ignored it. Because who calls at 1:00 AM unless someone's dead?
Third time, I picked up.
"Hello?" I mumbled.
There was a pause—then a voice I hadn't heard in days.
"Emile?"
My stomach sank. "Dad?"
He sounded drained. Not tired—drained. Like someone had wrung him out and left him on low battery.
"I… collapsed. Nothing serious. Just exhaustion. They're keeping me overnight at Mercy General. Can you—?"
He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
I was already up.
Didn't even change out of my sleep shirt. Just yanked on the first pair of jeans I could find, shoved my feet into half-wet sneakers by the door, and ran.
No umbrella. No coat. I felt the rain like spit hitting pavement. The streets were empty, slick, glowing from the sodium lights.
My fingers trembled as I opened the map app. The hospital was only twenty minutes away. I could run that.
I would run that.
The wind clawed at my face. The rain stabbed my eyes.
I didn't care. I needed to be there.
For once.
The light was green.
I was halfway across the road.
And then—
Headlights.
Too bright. Too fast.
I didn't have time to scream.
Didn't have time to flinch.
The car slammed into me like a sledgehammer.
My knees hit metal. My ribs cracked. My body lifted.
Then everything flipped sideways.
I hit the ground.
Hard.
Everything rang. My ears. My teeth. My skull.
My back was wet. It was not from the rain.
I tried to breathe. I couldn't.
The pain didn't register right away, only the taste.
Iron. Metal. Blood.
I was dying.
I knew it. Not in a dramatic way. Just factually. Bluntly. Like someone had turned off the settings keeping my body together.
I blinked up at the sky.
Streetlight halos bled into each other.
Everything was blurring.
Then—
[Dangerous Male Lead Rehabilitation System Initializing…]
White text, floating, glowing. It appeared over the real world like a pop-up ad from hell.
[Host-nim! You are now bound to the DMLRS! Congratulations on your death!]
I wheezed.
Was this a joke?
[Please remain calm. QQ will guide you through your new life!]
I tried to move, I couldn't.
But something was shifting in my vision.
A silhouette.
Long black hair. Broad shoulders. Tall. Drenched in white like a corpse dressed for burial.
He was walking towards of me, slow, deliberate.
I knew that walk. I knew that shape.
Yoon…. JieMi…. Huh?
My lungs buckled. I coughed, I could feel myself choking, running out of air by an invisible force. Hah! I was having a near death hallucination! Still I couldn't help myself as I tried to call out.
"Jei…"
Less, and less air.
My fingers twitched. I wasn't dead. Not yet. But I was close enough to see him.
He wasn't looking back.
He was looking down at… a body that seemed to disappear into thin air, his eyes this unnatural pitch black with roots of veins stretching down his eyes.
And then—
[WARNING: Critical condition. Host is not allowed to die during tutorial phase.].