I Became Last's Nemesis
Stories that open with “I woke up” usually come with a warning, but this is merely an assumption. Ever since I was a child, I believed humans could be split into two clear groups: the good and the evil. I now understand how simplistic and foolish that binary thinking truly is, yet every so often the thought still creeps in. Surely I’m the good one, and the rest of you are evil, aren’t you?
“Damn it, they struck out again… Tsk.” The webtoon I’d been faithfully following had been canceled without warning. Last Man Standing was a hero-genre series that held the number-one spot in weekly popularity on a platform run by one of the major corporations. In my hollow disappointment I flung my smartphone across the room. The device rolled under the bed, its screen displaying nothing but the word “Completed” in cold, indifferent letters.
What more needs to be said? I am a hero-story fanatic. Novels, comics, dramas, films—if it’s a hero story, I devour it regardless of medium. Ask me why and the answer is simple: hero stories are easy to follow. Justice judges evil. The path may differ, but justice always wins in the end. That straightforward structure is why I love them.
Of course, that isn’t the only reason. Some claim hero stories grow boring because of their simple “virtue rewarded, evil punished” framework. They don’t know what they’re talking about. Writers are thinkers. Inside a predetermined plot they agonize endlessly over how to make readers care. From that agony is born the “worst villain” capable of generating tension even against a hero destined to win. The villain. Also known as the antagonist or the hidden mastermind—the true driving force behind the entire genre.
“...” My mind snapped back to reality. If the series hadn’t been axed early, the final boss of Last Man Standing was about to be revealed. “I even baked cookies for the occasion…” A deep sigh rose from the pit of my stomach. No matter how I looked at it, the premature cancellation made no sense. “The numbers were solid, there was zero controversy, and the author updated faithfully with barely any hiatuses. What possible reason was there to drop it?”
The more I grumbled, the angrier I became, so I snatched the phone from the floor. When I came back to my senses, I had written a six-thousand-character rant. For someone whose usual literary output consisted of nothing more than curt KakaoTalk replies, the sheer length was proof of how powerful rage could be.
Anyway! Since I wrote it, I might as well post it. The button produced a few seconds of loading before the wall of text appeared. My comment quickly drew attention from readers who shared my outrage and shot straight to the top comments.
However.
Perhaps it received too much attention. My pure, unfiltered sincerity was deleted on the spot.
“You bastards!!” In a fit of fury I hurled the phone again. The screen that rolled under the bed now displayed the words ‘Blocked Comment’ in icy letters.
“Haa…” Exhaustion crashed over me. I’d once heard that the fifth and final stage of anger is acceptance. I hated to admit it, but that seemed to describe my current state perfectly. “So who the hell was Last’s predetermined archenemy from the early chapters…? They should at least clean up the foreshadowing before they leave…”
I used my toes to clumsily switch off the bedside lamp. The room plunged into darkness. I forced my eyes shut. I probably wouldn’t fall asleep anytime soon, but I desperately wanted to escape the crushing, helpless feeling of watching a beloved work disappear right before my eyes.
Colorful lights slapped my face.
“Ugh, what now?” When I opened my eyes I saw an utterly unfamiliar ceiling. Our house used plain fluorescent lights—what was this aggressively vibrant neon? And why was it such a painful shade of blue? Whoever lived here had terrible taste.
I rubbed my eyes and stood. The place was so tiny the front door was visible immediately. Searching for the bathroom, I spotted a door on the right labeled ‘Toilet.’ I turned on lukewarm water and scrubbed my face. My cheeks felt softer than usual, my hands strangely cold.
I brushed back my messy bangs, opened the front door for fresh air, and the next moment—
“.......” An endless forest of skyscrapers stretched before me. Towers so tall it was impossible to tell where walls ended and floors began poured light down onto a city of eternal night. The sight was truly…
“...Huh?” It looked exactly like Minos, the city that served as the setting for Last Man Standing.
A dream? The forced cancellation must have hit me harder than I thought if I was seeing it even in my sleep. At that moment, something like a screen floated above my head.
“.......” Even for a dream, this was ridiculously detailed. I immediately locked the front door, returned to bed, and lay down. After about five minutes with my eyes closed, cold sweat began to break out. I bolted to the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, then ran to the fridge and gulped down icy water.
“Ow, my head…” The water was so cold I could almost trace its path from throat to stomach with my finger. “Ugh…” The sudden chill triggered an urgent need to pee. I dashed back to the bathroom and froze in place, forced to look at the mirror once more.
“No… this is…” The face reflected in the mirror was strikingly beautiful. Considering I had just woken up with no makeup, the loveliness was almost shocking.
“So I didn’t imagine it…” With hands that had never done a day of rough work, I patted the face that now belonged to someone else. Playfully curved eyebrows, a smiling expression that suggested she had just reached the prime of her youth.
“Last’s nemesis… was a woman?”
Once again, this is merely an assumption. You have been forcibly transmigrated into the villain of a webtoon that was canceled without warning. How will you survive?
Someone once said there is an inexplicable sense of comfort in the number three. That must be why religion and society have always been obsessed with trinities and silver arrows. In this case, the “someone” was me. Three hours had already passed since I fell into this bleak city that knew no natural light.
If you asked whether those three hours had brought any comfort to my desolate life, I would have to answer no.
“Ugh, this rotten networking society is still tormenting me even here.” In short, the past three hours had been a search for identity. As a devoted reader, of course I was curious what kind of character the unrevealed final boss was supposed to be. Yet the original owner of this body seemed to have left behind nothing—no photos on the phone, not a single saved contact. It was as if she had deliberately lived in hiding.
There were no documents or belongings that could prove her identity, either. A complete dead end.
“Who the hell am I? There isn’t a single person who can answer me!” Because of that, I didn’t even know my own name. That’s right—my name. In the end I decided to name myself.
Chae Yuha. It was the precious name I had planned to give a daughter someday. Yes, from today onward I am Chae Yuha. If no one in this world will define my existence, then I will step forward and define myself.
Once I made up my mind, my previous name from my past life already felt distant and hazy.
“.......” Still, Yuha sounds a little strange. It keeps reminding me of my hometown. Anyway, I stared at the mysterious window floating in the air.
What kind of goal is this? An apathetic voice left my mouth before I could stop it. So this is how the world looks through a villain’s eyes? Raise your value as a villain so the hero can have a more meaningful death? And to be killed by Last, of all people—did whoever made this system even read the original story? How could that order-obsessed pushover possibly kill anyone?
—Gurgle…
Someone was crying out for food. In this case, that someone was very much me. What should I do? This pathetic girl hadn’t even stocked a single pack of ramen.
“Ugh.” Thinking about it wouldn’t produce an answer. I decided to step outside and wander the streets first.
That’s right! Even a petty criminal counts as evil, doesn’t he? Something on the level of pickpocketing might be something a modern person’s sense of morality could attempt.