The Era of the Ultimate Creep
I don’t like stories packed with heavy conflict. I admire heroes who overcome darkness and fear, but actually reading through that struggle is exhausting. I dislike stories lacking affection. What I prefer are the light, ticklish ones. That tingling sensation you get while reading or watching somehow becomes something I admire. I hate tragic endings. And I especially loathe stories that glorify suffering as some noble sacrifice, claiming all the rolling around in the dirt was just the path to a happy ending. I want the characters in the stories I enjoy to be happy. Sure, I respect protagonists who bleed, overcome crises, and seize what they want, but I don’t enjoy watching the process itself. That’s why I adore tales with no conflict, no tears, and no sacrifices. Stories without any major stimulation. Romantic comedies, for example.
I breathed in the chilly air of my room and scrolled through my phone. The everyday texts and images that filled the screen were comforting. As I kept scrolling and saw the smiling characters in the comics, I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my own face. Or rather, I couldn’t before.
“Why the hell…”
Just why.
“Why did the era of extreme toxicity have to open inside a romantic comedy?”
I suddenly missed those dense, slow-on-the-uptake male leads. They could be frustrating, but that unique fluffy vibe was part of the genre’s charm, which is why I liked them. I was the type who read everything without discrimination, the one who left perfect 10/10 scores and kind comments no matter how much of a mess the story was. Even I found this particular work a bit too much.
A personality rotting at rock bottom, overflowing with inferiority and jealousy. Forced cheerfulness born from warped admiration. And on top of that, the baseless confidence that he could make every beautiful girl at school his own while praising himself for it.
“H-how is this level of toxicity even…”
But that wasn’t all. He stalked the senior he had a crush on without any awareness that it was a crime. Then, by sheer coincidence, he learned her weakness and used it to approach her.
Hoshimiya was clearly a heroine with firm boundaries. In rom-com character archetypes, she’d be closer to “unconquerable.” The type who would remain at the “admired senior” level, or at the ending, watch the protagonist happily pair up with another heroine, then secretly shed a single tear while muttering, “I liked him too…” and offering genuine support.
But if she appeared in a story with a toxic male lead?
“You’re taking it?”
Precisely because of that personality, the tragedy of her becoming the main heroine occurred. Yeah, I could understand it. It made sense. A sharp heroine like her was necessary for the protagonist to reform.
But fuck.
I let out a sigh of relief at Hatsuna’s firm response. If even she had accepted that sudden offer, it would have meant Tatsuya’s way of thinking was completely broken. Stalking, spying, using the information he dug up to approach her with money… Was this really okay?
“My head already hurts. Well, he’ll probably reform later.”
That was the romantic comedy genre, after all. But I had underestimated Tatsuya. Or more precisely, I had underestimated the author’s understanding of the character.
“What the fuck.”
His outrageous way of thinking made me nauseous. At least I could declare with confidence that there would be no character collapse in this work. My thumb hovered over the back button several times, but only two pages remained. Leaving a rating and a supportive comment was practically a compulsion for me, so I decided to finish the last two pages.
The next scene showed Tatsuya’s younger sister staring at her empty envelope with a pale face, clearly shaken.
At that point my breathing grew ragged. First shock: it wasn’t even his money. Second shock: he was a repeat offender. Third shock: the sheer confusion over why her part-time wages came in an envelope.
“That was supposed to be this week’s food budget…”
When I realized Tatsuya’s family wasn’t exactly poor but wasn’t well-off either, I nearly fainted.
“Well, at least I didn’t steal Mom’s money this time! He’s probably just going through a phase!”
“Cough!”
A toxic male lead with a pushover little sister. I admit it, author. You win. This work exists solely to showcase toxicity. The brighter the light, the darker the shadow, they say. Everything around him was shining brilliantly just to illuminate that broken star.
Still, this frustration had to be the stepping stone toward a happy ending. After a long stretch of frustrating obstacles, a matured Tatsuya would surely enjoy a blissful romance. Yeah, that had to be it.
‘R-right…?’
As always, I left the highest rating and an encouraging comment before closing my phone. Then, two weeks later, I bought volume two and immediately flew into a rage.
The shameless attitude that treated his childhood friend like she had been conquered from birth. The moment I saw it, I skipped straight to the last page. And for the first time in my life, I left a zero-star rating. A rather harsh comment came as a bonus.
I had been a named reviewer on that platform. I genuinely didn’t realize it until that moment. Anyway, that wasn’t what mattered.
“The heroines really are too good for this.”
It was genuinely too much, Tatsuya. Why did the heroines in these toxic works always seem especially kind? Was it because otherwise the romantic comedy tag couldn’t function?
“I’ll check back around volume ten.”
By then, Tatsuya should have shown at least some signs of maturity. And so time passed, and I read volume ten.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
I don’t usually swear much, but I had no idea how many times I’d cursed today alone. The final page of the long-awaited tenth volume.
“Oh…?”
“It feels too forced. She’d probably catch on.”
“This bastard. Why is he getting more unnecessarily meticulous? What the hell is wrong with him?”
After watching Tatsuya remain exactly the same for ten whole volumes, I once again left the lowest possible score. Spending money to eat garbage really felt like this.
“Why can’t you treat the people you like with care?”
I really couldn’t understand it. With a twisted personality like that, it was no wonder no proper dating scenes had appeared even after ten volumes. Still, the relationships were progressing, albeit extremely slowly… At this rate, I guessed it would take at least thirty volumes before anything resembling a budding romance formed.
‘My head hurts…’
A headache throbbed like I had chugged strong liquor. I tossed my phone roughly onto the floor and flopped onto the bed. Even among the era of extreme toxicity, Tatsuya was in a league of his own. Unlike other works where reformation happened within three volumes, this was the genuine article… authentic, unfiltered toxicity. Maybe the author was a true sadist. Just hit me instead. Hit me and reform Tatsuya already. At this point I was genuinely impressed by the author. It felt like I was over-invested more than usual. Was this the charm of toxicity? It was so awful I couldn’t stop reading…
‘I really hate you, Tatsuya.’
Given the genre’s nature, the ending would inevitably involve him connecting with one of them, or all of them. I absolutely could not bear to witness that.
‘Should I drop it?’
I had endured NTR drifts while swallowing bloody tears for years, yet here I was, seriously considering dropping a series for the first time in a long while. That was when the phone I had thrown aside began vibrating like crazy.
‘I definitely set it to silent, didn’t I?’
Not only that, an intense light burst from the screen, bright enough to fill the entire room. “……?”
Thinking the phone was about to explode, I shot up to grab the fire extinguisher from the entrance. Right then, the phone that had been ominously flashing like a bad omen suddenly stopped. At the same time, pure white, crude letters floated across the darkened screen.
“What the hell is this?”
“I said, what is this?”
The experience sent chills down my spine. I wanted to leave the room immediately, but my body felt bound by something and refused to move. At least I could still shake my head.
I shook my head.
I shook my head again.
“No. There’s no way I’m falling for such a cheap cliché. I still have so many attach—”
“?”
The phone flashed once more. I reflexively squeezed my eyes shut. When I opened them again…
“……”
I was standing at a crosswalk somewhere in Japan.
“Fuck?”
“……!! The genuine Shibuya straight out of the original story!”
I don’t know who said it, but don’t sound so impressed. Seriously.