I Drop Out After Just 3 Episodes of This Rom-Com (Spoilers)
Title: Dropping This Mioban Trash After Episode 3 (Spoiler Warning)
Fuck you, author. What the hell is this? The protagonist is a pathetic virgin otaku who never leaves his room except to watch anime and play games. How the fuck does he beat a 190cm tall delinquent who’s trained in boxing? Did you just throw all logic in the trash? One jab and the MC’s internal organs would be shredded. He’d die instantly. And why does the rich delinquent get expelled right away? The protagonist is a broke nobody———(The rest has been omitted. Total length: 5,712 characters)
“Ugh… my head hurts like hell.”
I opened my eyes to a splitting headache. I could remember quitting work yesterday, drinking soju mixed with beer, eating fried chicken, skimming the beginning of some weird rom-com novel, and then rage-posting in the gallery… but after that, everything went blank.
“Hey, Jun. What’s wrong with you?”
An unfamiliar Japanese voice reached my ears. Only then did the surroundings come into focus.
A bathroom?
I distinctly remembered falling asleep in bed last night. Why was I in a bathroom?
“Jun? You okay? You suddenly started thrashing around. Scared the shit out of me.”
The moment I saw the guy waving his hand in front of my face, I froze solid.
Red hair, piercings dangling from both ears, total delinquent vibe.
Who the hell are you?
Did I get blackout drunk, wander outside alone, and pass out in a bathroom? Some stranger was standing right in front of me.
Anyway, since I didn’t know him, I ignored the guy and walked over to the sink to get my bearings.
Then I looked in the mirror and froze again.
Staring back at me was an incredibly handsome man nearly 190cm tall.
At the same time, a flood of unfamiliar memories poured into my head.
This was Japan. And my name was Jun.
I had transmigrated into the exact delinquent from that rom-com I’d rage-posted about yesterday—the one who gets expelled after just three episodes of Mioban. Beautiful Girls Fall for Otakus.
I was now Yamamoto Jun.
“...I’m so fucked.”
Wait, seriously? Ranting for 5,700 characters actually triggered a transmigration? But I posted it in the gallery, you absolute bastard of an author!
I turned my head to assess the situation and saw the original protagonist standing there.
The otaku. Minami Haruto.
He was slumped in the corner of the bathroom, glasses shattered, blood dripping from his face.
“Fuck…”
“Jun. What’s up? Want me to beat him up some more?”
I ignored the red-haired delinquent who was talking nonsense and dug through my previous life’s memories.
From the looks of it, this was the very end of episode three.
Haruto, who had suddenly snapped, ambushed me—Yamoto Jun—and landed a critical hit, knocking me unconscious. That must have been the exact moment I possessed this body.
Tomorrow, the school violence committee would be held and I would be expelled.
The scene played out automatically in my head.
Of all the possible times to transmigrate, why did it have to be this one? Goddamn author.
“Nah. Just leave him. I’ve lost interest. I’m out.”
I left the bathroom, abandoning both Haruto and the red-haired thug.
There was no point in forcing anything.
I was already screwed. Expulsion ending confirmed.
Besides, I had only read up to episode three, so I had no idea what came next.
“What the hell am I supposed to do now…”
I hadn’t smoked in three years, but suddenly I was dying for a cigarette.
I rummaged through my pockets and, sure enough, found a pack.
“Thanks, you miserable delinquent bastard.”
I pulled one out, stuck it in my mouth, and lit it.
“Hoo… haa…”
I watched the white smoke curl upward and thought to myself.
Even if I was about to die, one cigarette couldn’t hurt, right?
I sat on a bench, smoking and sorting through Yamamoto Jun’s memories.
Yamamoto Jun.
The only son of the Yamamoto family.
Heir to Yamamoto Enterprise, one of Japan’s major conglomerates.
Estimated assets… one trillion yen. Roughly ten trillion won in Korean money.
“...Huh?”
The author must have been high on something.
He created this absolute monster of a character just to kick him out with one punch for some cheap power fantasy? Was he insane?
Whether he got expelled or not, Yamamoto Jun was a super ultra diamond spoon who could live like a king for nine generations without lifting a finger.
At that moment, the corporate slave soul inside me began spinning at maximum speed.
In these kinds of novels, the standard trope for someone who transmigrates into a rom-com is to steal the original protagonist’s heroines and build a harem.
But I was originally Korean.
Japanese culture didn’t suit me, and I wasn’t even that fond of the country.
I only watched the occasional manga or anime. Nothing more.
If anything, I was closer to a native Korean who actively disliked Japan.
I didn’t know the rest of the story anyway, and I had zero interest in stealing other people’s women.
So I’d just ignore the original plot and run straight to Korea.
Staying here would only get me tangled up in unnecessary drama.
That same night, I went home and knelt before my parents.
The moment their delinquent son—who never listened to a word they said—suddenly dropped to his knees, they nearly had a heart attack.
“Mother, Father. I want to be reborn.”
“What?”
“I wish to wash away my past debauchery and naturalize in Korea, a country both close and far.”
“K-Korea? Jun, why on earth would you suddenly want to go to Korea?”
My father stammered in confusion.
I combined my pre- and post-possession memories and spun the story I had prepared in advance.
“You once told me we have Korean ancestors. But our family has deliberately ignored that part of our history from the Japanese colonial period. I want to atone for that sin in their place.”
“S-Suddenly? But how?”
“Isn’t the motto of Yamamoto Enterprise ‘harmony’?”
“It is.”
“I will go to Korea, establish the Korean Cultural Property Restoration Foundation, and create true harmony between Korea and Japan.”
I handed them a hundred-page proposal detailing how I would use the family’s power not for wasteful spending, but to earn social honor and foster genuine reconciliation between the two countries.
My parents cried tears of joy, saying their son had finally come to his senses.
And just like that, the moment I possessed this body, I ditched the original protagonist and everything else and left Japan behind.
Several years later.
I had completely laundered my identity after moving to Korea.
I enrolled in a prestigious private high school in Seoul, played the model student, and graduated quietly.
People praised me for being Japanese yet knowing Korean history and the language better than most Koreans.
Well, obviously. My insides were Korean, after all.
While attending high school, I also ran the foundation.
Using the pretext of “harmony,” I persuaded the Japanese government to donate several cultural artifacts to Korea.
Korean public opinion went wild, and the South Korean government offered me special naturalization.
Normally you needed permanent residency for five years, but they said my extraordinary contributions warranted an exception.
Either way, I officially became a Korean citizen.
I even changed my name.
From Yamamoto Jun to Lee Jun.
When my parents asked if I wouldn’t inherit the family business, I told them to switch to a professional management system.
I didn’t like the idea of hereditary succession—it reminded me too much of North Korea’s Kim Jong-un.
I explained that nearly every major global corporation used professional CEOs, and they accepted it.
After naturalizing, one big issue remained.
Military service.
I didn’t want to hear people say, “That rich Japanese bastard is dodging the army and living easy,” so I proudly volunteered for active duty in the Army.
Twenty-one months later, I completed my service cleanly as a sergeant.
Having money really did make military life easier. If you buy your seniors, juniors, and officers Korean beef every time they go out or get leave, service becomes smooth sailing. Take note.
With legitimate military service completed and the powerful title of chairman of the foundation established in my name, my identity laundering was perfect.
The original protagonist and heroines back in Japan were probably living their own lives.
I would live comfortably here for the rest of mine.
Bye bye, original novel.
Anyway, I had become the picture of a healthy, upright young Korean man.
As long as my history of bullying Haruto in Japan never came to light, my life would be smooth sailing.
In Korean society, school violence exposés were the most fatal scandal.
I just had to be careful about that one thing.
“Ah, this is going to be fun.”
In my previous life I had only studied, so I never got to enjoy proper campus life.
Things like group meetings with the tall, beautiful dancers, or those MT trips where you start as the “black knight” and end up in a fling. Stuff like that.
Now I had a second chance at campus life.
Today was my emotional first day as a twenty-two-year-old freshman walking into a university lecture hall.
I had chosen the business administration department.
Running a foundation would require proper business knowledge.
I sat in the very back of the lecture hall, looking forward to meeting my new classmates.
That was when I sensed someone sitting down beside me.
A faint, elegant scent of shampoo. A girl.
I turned my head without thinking and froze on the spot.
Snow-white skin, slightly upturned eyes, and soft hair that flowed all the way down to her waist.
She’s gorgeous!
She looked familiar, so I spoke without realizing it.
“Have we met somewhere before?”
“Me and you, Lee Jun?”
She gave me a seductive smile and spoke casually.
Her pronunciation sounded a little off. She probably wasn’t Korean.
In this rom-com world, both Korea and Japan existed, and not every East Asian had black hair, so it was hard to tell nationalities.
“Yes. I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere.”
“Hehe.”
Suddenly she grabbed my head with both hands, pulled me close, and whispered directly into my ear.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it… Yamamoto Jun?”
“...!”
I jerked my head back in shock and stared at her properly.
She looked familiar, so I searched my memories. It finally came to me, though faintly.
It had been years, so the memory had almost faded.
She was the woman who had beautifully decorated the main illustration of the novel Beautiful Girls Fall for Otakus.
A heroine?
Even after digging through Yamamoto Jun’s memories, I couldn’t recall her name.
That meant she was a character who appeared after episode three.
A woman I didn’t know.
How does she know who I am?
We’ve never met. How does she know me?
I ran away to Korea without doing anything precisely to avoid getting involved!
No matter how little I knew beyond the first three episodes, this was complete bullshit! Fuck!
While I sat there in utter shock, she slowly leaned her head closer again.
Then she whispered softly into my ear once more.
“It’s been a while, Jun.”
“...”
“Naturalizing as a Korean, changing your name, hiding your past… is it fun?”
“...”
“What would happen to you if I spread the past I know…?”
I was fucked.
First day of campus life.
My carefully laundered past had been exposed, and I was about to fall straight into the abyss.
School violence exposé, my ass.