No Romance, Romance, or Ruinous Obsession? That is the Question.
Caffeine coursed through my veins. My third cup of the day, without fail. The liquid that moistened my lips was hellishly hot, angelically beautiful, and sweetly intoxicating like love itself. In one sentence... water brewed from roasted beans. But I had no time to savor the bitterness and aroma. I was completely absorbed in the content on my smartphone.
The protagonist, off on an expedition to Egypt to save his mother, faced off against the final boss with the power to stop time. But the boss's power was overwhelmingly strong. In the end, on a bridge crossing the Nile, the protagonist found himself in mortal danger, about to be crushed by construction heavy machinery.
I was so immersed in this life-or-death battle that sweat beaded on my palms.
"You there, young and able-bodied... the one staring at your smartphone!"
A clear voice pierced my ear, somehow piercing right through me.
Damn, are they doing cult recruitment inside cafes these days? I sighed inwardly. Not even on the street, but in a cafe? Or maybe not recruitment—could be some multi-level marketing pitch. Either way, ignoring them was the answer. I deliberately tuned out the footsteps behind me and fixed my eyes on my phone screen.
"I have a question for someone who loves heroic tales. Pretending not to hear me?"
This time, it was a different voice. If the first had the sharpness of a blade fresh off the whetstone, this one was elegant yet subtly condescending.
Team effort, and persistent too...! Of all the timings, right when the protagonist was about to reverse time and finish off the boss. But they showed no signs of stopping unless I reacted. With no choice, I looked up.
"Excuse me, but I'm not interested in religion or high-yield investments—"
I tried to politely but firmly decline, only for my words to cut off. Standing before me weren't cult recruiters or MLM salespeople, but three stunning beauties straight out of social media.
The first woman wore a perfectly tailored white suit. Sharp eyes, hair neatly tied up. She looked like a corporate executive or professional—the epitome of a "successful woman."
The second was decked out in top-tier luxury clothes and jewelry. Even under the cafe lights, she sparkled, hinting at her wealth and status. The classic "rich woman."
And the third... Oh... ohhh...
Her tight outfit revealed every curve without filter—the kind called a "new town housewife." Her overwhelming, voluptuous figure had me staring despite myself.
But... something was off. With beauties like these gathered together, why wasn't anyone around looking? Why weren't the other cafe patrons even glancing their way?
Is this... a caffeine overdose hallucination?
As I reeled in confusion, the three women naturally took seats across from me.
"Sorry if we startled you."
The suited woman spoke first.
"We just wanted to ask a question of a modern young man who loves stories. About a topic we've been debating for generations."
A topic they'd debated among themselves. The bizarre question stirred an ominous premonition.
"The theme is [The Most Ideal Romance in Stories]."
...Surprisingly familiar topic. For such beautiful people to ask about romance in novels. As a pro reader, it wasn't something to take lightly, but it felt oddly mismatched with these women, leaving me a bit deflated.
The suited woman continued.
"I believe love in a hero's—the protagonist's—grand narrative is nothing but a hindrance. Unnecessary emotional drain and a clear weakness. Therefore, no romance, no-romance, is superior."
The luxury-clad woman elegantly shook her head with a soft laugh.
"Oh dear, how austere. Humans live by loving and forming bonds in some form or another. Whether one-to-one or one-to-many, the essence is the same."
She paused at "one-to-many," her brow furrowing with an unnatural chill that sent shivers down my spine, then added,
"Of course, I personally advocate the sacred one-to-one form. But some cases, like my husband, are unavoidable."
...She's married?
Finally, the voluptuous woman leaned on the table and said,
"You all live such boring lives. The real fun in stories is the clash of emotions, right?"
She subtly leaned toward me as she spoke. Her sweet breath tickled my ear.
"Crying and laughing over love... regretting to the point of hanging yourself, sinking into ruin like quicksand, obsessing to the point of murder. That kind of messy, destructive drama is the ultimate entertainment."
The three finished speaking. They all looked at me at once.
"So, which do you think is the most fun?"
The suited woman stared blankly, the luxury woman with a haughty glint, the voluptuous one with a strange smile—demanding my answer.
"Uh... hmm."
Being pressed for an answer by three beauties. It was an indescribable, bizarre pressure. And somehow, I had the absurd feeling that my response would change my life.
.........
I stayed silent for a moment, organizing my thoughts. Who am I? The guy who reads a hundred chapters a day, three thousand a month, driving the subscription platform YesBelpia into serious financial trouble. In other words, a pro reader with pride.
I had to answer such a question with utmost seriousness and care.
"It varies greatly by genre."
Their gazes focused on my mouth.
"In works where the protagonist's goal is paramount—like alternate history or expert tales—no romance is better. It lets them focus on their massive objective."
The suited woman's expression brightened slightly.
"But in most novels, romance is essential. Human emotions and relationships enrich the story."
"Exactly."
The luxury woman smiled in satisfaction.
"Well said."
"Obvious and boring, but not wrong."
The two nodded in agreement. But I wasn't done.
"However, the extreme kind—regret, ruin, obsession—has no value."
The voluptuous woman's smile vanished.
"A story's setting can be unrealistic. Magic, aliens, whatever. But the human emotions at its core must be realistic. Regret, ruin, obsession—those pathological feelings not even qualifying as love—aren't. They're artificially created for shock value."
"Hmph..."
A hint of irritation mixed into her hum. The other two watched me with amused, slightly mocking smiles.
But truth doesn't care about feelings. I nailed my logic home.
"Emotions like regret, ruin, and obsession are forced into the narrative. Like cheap seasoning that only adds artificial spice and harms health, making all food taste the same."
Is that enough? No... one more thing.
"Besides, wouldn't a normal person have no cause for regret, no reason to fall into ruin, no sickly obsession with or from someone?"
The cafe fell silent the moment I finished. Then—
"Heh heh heh!"
"Ahahaha!"
The suited woman and luxury woman burst into cheerful laughter simultaneously.
"That's right, exactly!"
"[If you're a normal person], indeed. Very reasonable."
But one person didn't laugh. The voluptuous woman's face was coldly hardened. The playfulness in her eyes had vanished, now burning with icy rage.
"No cause if you're normal. Is that what you're saying?"
Suddenly the air grew heavy, and she stood.
Is she gonna grab my coffee and splash it in my face? I pulled my cup forward to block, but she ignored it. She just glared at me with frozen, ice-cold eyes.
"Then... experience it yourself and survive. [If you're normal], you won't face regret, ruin, or obsession!"
The moment she snapped her fingers, cracks like spiderwebs spread across my vision. Then, the entire scene before me shattered like glass.
My vision fragmented, consciousness scattering like broken shards into darkness.
The last thing I heard was the three women's voices.
"The complete opposite of the Pied Piper Prince."
"Yeah. Wasn't that too spiteful?"
"Not spite. If he's normal like I said, he'll have a happy, ordinary love. The curse... I'll lift it then."