Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: God is Dead
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God is dead.
Serialization halted. Abbreviated as hiatus.
That is the greatest betrayal to readers who stuck with the novel, and something an author should never do.
But betrayals exist to be committed. And I am trash.
I abandoned Academy's Ice Knight right at the end. Just before the final battle, no less.
What choice did I have? The protagonist had grown too strong, leading to endless power creep. The plot veered off into the mountains, forced developments killed any logic, and while I wanted to write the heroines flirting with him, I couldn't even figure out why they liked him in the first place.
It was the best option.
That's what I thought. Until that happened—
It was an email. One of the few people who read my trashy novel to the end, but I couldn't bring myself to reply.
I couldn't exactly say, "Couldn't write for shit, so I quit."
I'm sorry. See you in the next work.
I marked it as read and was taking a break disguised as planning my next project when another email arrived.
I'm sorry. You must have really enjoyed it. But if you liked mine, others will be even better, so go read those.
The classic Dragon Ball training method. Dumping my 500T novel for something else brings that rush—
"..."
I frowned at the email once more. Is this guy nuts? Now resorting to threats.
"Should've known from the start. Anyone who finishes my trashy novel is clearly a fool."
I wasn't even going to mark this as read. Delete. Then block. My finger hovered over the button.
Blocking a reader who loved my work stung to the bone, but it was unavoidable. She seemed to be blackening already. My mental fortitude is like a cookie. No, even weaker. Call me a jellyfish, I'd accept it.
I wouldn't last against a 5700-character message.
I pressed the block button firmly.
"Huh?"
The scenery shifted. From my filthy, cramped studio to a vast expanse where a clear blue sky carpeted the ground.
Clouds I had to look up at were now underfoot. Looking around, rainbows stretched endlessly.
Beneath them stood a structure believable as an ancient Roman temple, and in front of it were two people.
"Lee Seong-hoon. 25 years old. Dropped out of Korean Literature saying 'I'm going to be a novelist~'. Became a novelist. Right? Stop drinking that soda and confirm."
"Yeah, that's me. Hold on."
Two of them. One was like the friendly uncle next door, with a warm face and a sleazy grin. His stubble looked sharp enough to cut.
The other was an angel. No other way to describe her.
The woman in flowing white robes like an ancient Roman wore twelve pristine wings. Her beauty defied words.
As if God had declared, "This is the pinnacle of beauty humanity must reach!" and sculpted her.
But that impression lasted less than three seconds.
In just three seconds, my angelic illusion shattered.
She met my eyes, covered her mouth, and smirked mockingly. Like, "You're screwed now."
My fists clenched. A feeling I hadn't had since fighting the girl next to me in elementary school.
I glared, and she glared back. Wanna go?
Sorry, but I don't lose staring contests.
"Ahem."
After a long stare-down, the man cleared his throat.
Only then did the angel look away. With a Yeah, I won, loser~ expression. Then someone called me.
"Lee Seong-hoon-ssi?"
"Yes?"
My teeth ground with a crunch, but I answered first.
"I said if you ignored me one more time, you wouldn't know what I'd do, right?"
"?"
I tilted my head, and the man sighed.
"Didn't you see the email?"
Oh. The email.
Only then did the threatening email come to mind. It had just happened, but this supernatural event had pushed it aside.
My sluggish brain kicked into overdrive, forcing comprehension of the situation.
Clouds, angel, email, threat.
The man was God or something comparable, kidnapping me over a mere novel. Nothing else explained this otherworldly phenomenon.
I wasn't a novelist for show.
Anyway, God or god-like being. Kidnapping over one novel made him a punk, unchanging—
"Ahem!"
A cough cut my thoughts. I looked at the so-called God.
"Not 'so-called'. I am God. Sorry for being a punk."
"Haha. You can read my thoughts, huh?"
God just smiled without answering. Smiling, yet somehow terrifying.
"This is the Heaven Realm. You know why I brought you here."
My hunch was right. Kidnapping over a novel—such abuse of power.
"I can hear everything."
"Oh, right."
I scratched the back of my head. Why broadcast it? Embarrassing.
"Ahem."
The angel behind couldn't hold back her laughter. When God glanced, she straightened up. Detachable face or what?
"Anyway, I want to see the novel's end. That's why you're here."
Aha. I nodded at God's words. Classic opener for expert stories where you get a status window and hit it big as an author. Seen it plenty.
Golden age begins? Am I going viral?
"No. Nothing like that."
"Huh?"
I blurted dumbly, and God smiled slyly.
"The Heaven Realm is so boring."
What the—? As if answering, he continued.
"Nothing to do. Conversations grow stale after a day or two. Watching the lower realms gets dull. That's why I love modern stuff? Endless creations, games. No time to get bored. More thrilling than the turbulent eras of constant war."
God looked at me. Smiling, but chills ran down my spine.
"Among them, novels are my favorite. And a really intriguing one I was reading got hiatus'd."
"Sorry about th—"
"No. It's fine. There's a way."
God took a file from the angel and read declaratively.
"Lee Seong-hoon-ssi. You're hilarious. Did some background check."
Then he listed my embarrassing history.
Starting with fighting the kindergarten teacher at age 5, pissing her off for real. The one behind was now openly shaking, spraying spit from the first incident.
Age 8, fighting the girl next to me over a desk flip and losing.
Age 11, trying a "kick of justice" on high school smokers, ending up stripped to my underwear.
Age 15, trying a cigarette wrong, choking to the ER.
Age 18, trash-talking while writing a novel, caught by delinquents and forced to read aloud.
Age 21, punching a girl in group project with "This is gender equality."
And recently, seriously fighting a 5-year-old who called me uncle, losing the argument.
"Kuhuhu... Hahaha!"
Please stop. The one behind is rolling on the floor now, clutching her stomach so her navel doesn't escape.
"Yes. So I thought. A novelist this fun, why hiatus?"
"Couldn't write—"
"That's why I brought you. To fix that."
God clapped. A roulette wheel appeared with the sound.
Something. Felt ominous. Familiar opener.
"Humans get lazy when comfortable. They unleash full potential under hardship. My theorem since the beginning."
Stop. Didn't want to hear it. Worse than the history recital.
I backed away, but the voice persisted.
"Spin the roulette. Take what it lands on. Ability or item."
"Um, I have panic disorder? Exempted from military. Daily routine is sitting at PC, no exercise. Parents still alive—"
"It's fine."
God ignored my rambling. No. This wasn't an expert story opener.
This was...
A possession story opener.
"See the ending, and I'll send you back. To the time before it vanished, if you want, seamlessly."
God continued.
"If it's a satisfying ending, one wish granted. Even make you a god. Lower-tier, though."
No need. My wish? Home now. And divine punishment on that maniacally grinning woman.
"Yes. Well. Good luck. Why hiatus when someone was enjoying it?"
God laughed. Roulette spun. Finally—it stopped.
"Work hard."
A hole opened under me. I flailed to grab something, but the floor vanished entirely. Wide open void.
"Sending you alone worries me, so here's a guide. Her name's Raphael. Useful, maybe."
"Huh?"
The laughing angel, Raphael, looked up at God in shock. Visible from here.
But a hole under her too. She clung to God's pants in panic, but he shook her off.
"God-nim? Joke, right? Right? I'm an angel? A seraphim? Highest rank to serve at your side!!"
"Six more like you. Have fun."
Falling sensation intensified like a snake coiling. Headwind choked my breath.
Breathing struggle from wind, terror of endless fall, shame of entering my own novel—all compounding to near-faintness. Amid it, I thought:
Is dragging the author into his abandoned novel what gods do?
Quoting a famous line:
God is dead.
Friedrich Nietzsche.
Nietzsche, you were right.
"..."
I opened my eyes to a bench. Beside me, a golden-haired beauty slept with eyes closed. On me, a nauseating green uniform.
"Really sent me in."
People bustled around, ignoring us as if we'd always been here.
Colorful hair—shades rare even one in reality—filled my view.
The broadcast hammered reality home. Everything screamed "You're fucked lol", souring my mood.
I looked skyward. The bastard who dumped me here was probably watching.
He said:
So, my task was clear.
Help protagonist Kim Tae-hyun reach the ending, graduate the academy, return home—
Stopped there. One thought hit.
"Why should I?"
Why do what that bastard wants? He wants the novel's ending.
No frills. Just the ending.
Even a shit ending. Protagonist hit by meteor, ninjas wipe everyone—still an ending.
Then.
I'll never give him the ending he wants. He craves Kim Tae-hyun's final battle.
So, my job: Prevent Kim Tae-hyun's fight with the final boss.
"No."
Not enough. Insufficient. Dumping someone in another's novel demands fitting payback.
Flash. Inspiration struck—like Newton's apple.
"Stunt his growth, weaken him."
Most deflating scenario? Protagonist flops powerlessly in final battle. No flashbacks, no awakening.
A smile crept up. Mission clear.
"Perfect."
"What's perfect?"
Sudden voice startled me. I turned to the golden-haired, blue-eyed beauty shoving her face close. Pouting sulkily.
Cheeks puffed like they'd squeak if poked.
"What. Not freaking out?"
Honestly, expected a meltdown. After Heaven Realm, thought she'd wake fighting. Surprisingly meek.
"God's orders. How can his angel get mad? Must have purpose. He's not omnipotent, but omniscient."
Wow, brag much.
I clicked my tongue and explained the plan to Raphael. We're in the same boat now. Like it or not.
Maybe she wants revenge too.
After hearing, Raphael stared like I was filth.
"You're insane?"
Yes. I am.