I Woke Up as the Trash Villain

I blinked, staring at the ceiling. What the hell is this?

Where am I?

When I came to my senses, there was a dragon in the sky. To be precise, it was a massive wooden ceiling with a dragon carved into it. The sheer grandeur of the thing made me freeze for a solid five seconds.

“What the actual fuck is going on?”

Too stunned to even sit up, I just lay there gaping at the ceiling like an idiot. Then, through the haze, a low voice reached my ears.

“Young Master, are you awake?”

Young Master? Isn’t that what they called those old Chinese nobles in textbooks? I only vaguely remembered it. The only thing that stuck was the image of some bearded old guy with a sour face and a topknot. That was about it.

“How can the Young Master still be unconscious!”

A scolding shout followed right after. Ah, so “Young Master” was a title. Good to know. I still had no idea who this particular young master was, though.

That thought had barely formed when a splitting headache slammed into me.

“Ugh…”

“Choun-seong, my lord!”

Choun-seong? Who the hell is Choun-seong? I’m Lee Seo-jin.

But then it hit me. I knew exactly who Choun-seong was.

That was the last line the pathetic bastard spat before he died horribly. Choun-seong was a character from the trash web novel Cheonryong Chronicle, which I had been reading on my phone just yesterday.

※※※

Until yesterday, I had definitely been in a cramped goshiwon near my company. I remembered lying on that narrow bed, exhausted from work, and reading a web novel. The title was Cheonryong Chronicle, I think. The name was so cliché it made me want to yawn, and the content was just as predictable.

The protagonist was ridiculously righteous and absurdly strong. Every villain that showed up was nothing more than walking EXP or a benchmark for the hero’s power level. If there was anything remotely fresh about it, it was the fact that even a ten-year veteran of wuxia novels like me almost hurled my half-paid-off smartphone across the room. No famous wuxia author could have made something this refreshingly awful.

Anyway, like most web novel protagonists, the hero had top-tier talent, a sharp mind, and ridiculous luck. From beginning to middle, it was smooth sailing. It could have been boring, but it wasn’t bad. The pacing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was fast, and watching him grow stronger gave me some decent vicarious satisfaction.

But that was it. As the story progressed, it fell into a single repetitive pattern. There was no rise and fall, no tension. Just endless power fantasy. Every “crisis” felt fake, and whenever an enemy appeared, my only thought was, Oh look, more EXP.

I get wanting to make the protagonist smart, but did every opponent have to be written like a goldfish or a chicken? And I actually spent real money on this garbage. In the end, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠couldn’t hold back anymore and left a comment.

[Author-nim, are you okay? Did you write this with your feet?]

It got a ton of likes. After a brutal night of overtime, I cracked open a beer on the way home. I was in a good mood until I kept reading… and realized the novel had switched to demonic arts. My stomach was in knots.

The surprising part was that the author actually replied.

[Dear Reader, I respect your opinion. However, starting with insults is not appropriate.]

I was already pissed off by the protagonist’s holier-than-thou scholar act, and then I get a comment that sounded exactly like him. My temper finally snapped. Around dawn, fueled by alcohol, I became a full keyboard warrior. I don’t remember the exact words, but it was something like this:

[Author, what the hell is plot consistency?]

[The Five Great Masters of the Demonic Path get one-shotted by a newbie protagonist?]

[What even is the Tongcheon Cult? Why did they pop out of nowhere? Wasn’t the Hyeolgyo supposed to be the strongest?]

[Even if I wrote this with my feet, I’d still be twice as good as you.]

I might have also inquired about the well-being of the author’s parents. Ahem. Let’s skip that part. I was mentally and physically exhausted. Mentally and physically exhausted.

And now I woke up to find myself not with an unwanted delivery of black bean noodles, but lying in the middle of ancient China. This was beyond black-bean-level absurdity. I was losing my mind.

※※※

When I looked into the mirror, a breathtakingly handsome young man stared back.

He looked to be in his late teens, with a solid build and refined, almost aristocratic features.

“So this is Choun-seong?”

I hadn’t expected him to be this good-looking. If I had to nitpick, his facial lines were a bit too delicate, almost feminine. Strangely, that gave him an alluring, seductive aura.

There was no denying it. He was a classic pretty boy. If he stood in front of Gangnam Station, he’d instantly trend as #GangnamFlowerBoy and take the top hashtag spot.

But so what?

“This guy is a villain!”

Not just any run-of-the-mill extra villain, either. He was a born psychopath whose life goal was Hyeolcheonha—turning the entire world into a sea of blood. He was one of the final bosses destined to be sacrificed just to make the protagonist look good.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

And thanks to the author’s signature black-and-white morality, even his backstory was trash. Not only was he a murderer, he was also a traitor trying to destroy his own family. On top of that, he had practiced a half-baked demonic manual from the Hyeolgyo, which caused his magong to run wild and drive him completely insane later on.

The author probably made him an idiot so the protagonist could easily kill him off. But now that I was stuck in this body, things had gotten extremely complicated.

Why did it have to be this guy…?

This had to be a dream. It absolutely had to be a dream.

While I was wallowing in despair, a voice called out.

“Young Master. Are you alright?”

The person who appeared before me was a small, elderly man. His clothes were shabby, but he had a warm, comforting face that somehow put me at ease.

“Hehe. It seems your mind is still foggy. How pitiful.”

“Um… who…”

“Oh no! You don’t recognize this Baek No? Aigoo!”

The old man looked like he was about to burst into dramatic tears. Before I could stop him, he held out a bowl filled with some pitch-black liquid.

“This is medicine for your internal injuries. Please drink it quickly and recover.”

“Wait, hold on, this is…”

“Come now, quickly. Here.”

Still confused, Choun-seong—no, I—accepted the bitter medicine.

“Gulp. Gulp.”

Ugh, it was awful. I frowned as I asked,

“What… exactly happened?”

The old man looked momentarily surprised by my polite speech, but quickly composed himself and answered.

“You were engaged in a bimu, vomited blood, and collapsed, Young Master.”

“I vomited blood?”

Inside, I frantically tried to make sense of it. Can you really cough up blood and pass out during a spar?

This was where all those years of reading wuxia novels finally paid off. A bimu was basically a martial duel or training match. For martial artists, it was an everyday occurrence. Vomiting blood and collapsing during one was extremely unusual.

Even so, I still couldn’t figure out which part of the novel this was. Choun-seong was such a trash villain that he caused trouble every single day. More than half of his appearances in the story ended with him getting beaten by the protagonist.

Fortunately, the old man’s next words gave me some crucial clues.

“Don’t you remember? The Eldest Young Master incited his friend to attack you.”

So it seemed I had gotten dragged into some kind of quarrel and ended up fighting. Still, this information was far too lacking.

Let me think…

“The Eldest Young Master’s friend?”

“The vicious man known as Samseongeom.”

Samseongeom? Not Samseon Slippers? Ah, now I remembered. While reading the original story, I had thought of Samseon Slippers because of that ridiculous nickname. Even while drunk, that bizarre title had stuck in my memory.

The moment I recalled it, a wave of shame washed over me, and my face burned with humiliation.

“…So this is the part where I harassed my half-brother’s fiancée and got into a fight.”

What a complete and utter scumbag I was. It was only mentioned in passing, but it was more than enough to shake my mental state.

Judging from the context, this was clearly the early part of the novel. Even though we were half-brothers, going after someone else’s fiancée—especially my older brother’s—was pure villain behavior. As expected of a villain, my reputation had been rotten since childhood. It was probably bright yellow by now.

My own complexion must have looked just as sickly.

I’m that villain? Ugh…

I felt like crying. Seeing my distressed face, the old man nodded with determination.

“This Baek No will not stand by and watch no matter what happens! I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠will definitely help you get revenge!”

No, please don’t! Don’t harass innocent people!

It’s my—this body’s—fault, okay?

I waved my hands frantically, but he didn’t seem to understand. Instead, Baek No smiled warmly.

“Hehehe. To think the Young Master’s heart is so broad. This Baek No is deeply moved.”

“Moreover, the fact that you haven’t given up and are still gritting your teeth in determination is truly admirable.”

Haven’t given up? What was he talking about?

While I was feeling puzzled, he smiled contentedly and flipped over a corner of the blanket. From beneath it, a book appeared.

It was…

The moment I saw Cheonryong Chronicle Volume 1, my eyes nearly popped out of my head.

Why the hell was this damn demonic arts manual here?

“Even while injured, you refuse to let go of the book… With such dedication, even that foolish patriarch will soon recognize your abilities and make use of them.”

Uh… sir, how can you say that after looking at this garbage? And aren’t you part of the family? Can you really call the patriarch foolish like that?

“Hehe, what a grand title. Suheom Chongron, the Comprehensive Exam Guide. As expected of the Young Master, truly impressive.”

Can’t you read?

I deliberately held the book right in front of the old man’s eyes and asked,

“What does the title say?”

“It says Suheom Chongron, doesn’t it?”

No, Grandpa. You misread it. This isn’t a study guide. It’s a wuxia novel.

※※※

“Just what the hell is going on?”

Let me organize this.

Yes, as ridiculous as it sounds, I’ve accepted that I’ve reincarnated into a strange world. I tried denying reality and telling myself I was still half-asleep, but that only works for a day or two.

“It’s already been four days. There’s no way I’d stay asleep in a dream this long.”

There was more proof that this wasn’t a dream. During that time, I observed the people coming in and out of the room. Sometimes I even went outside to walk around the small garden. That was when I became certain.

“I really did fall into the book.”

There was no way a dream could feel this real. No matter where I walked, the grass and trees felt completely lifelike. The maids would run away the moment they saw me. I hadn’t actually grabbed any of them to talk, but the situation made one thing very clear.

“Goddammit! This is real?”

What happened to the poor office worker Lee Seo-jin?

There was one more strange thing.

This bizarre book inside Cheonryong Chronicle. To other people, it seemed to appear as whatever they wanted to see. But to me—Choun-seong—I could see it clearly for what it was.

Still, when I opened it out of curiosity, I only felt emptiness and tossed it aside. The pages were completely blank.

“I definitely threw this away yesterday. Why is it back here?”

Even if I threw it away, the moment I opened my eyes, it returned to my possession. It was surprising, but since I had already become a character inside the book, a book that could walk around on its own wasn’t exactly the most shocking thing anymore.

I guess I just had to accept that it looked completely different to other people. The fact that the title was Cheonryong Chronicle felt meaningful too, so I decided to let it slide.

While sighing deeply, I felt something odd and flipped through the pages. Then, on pages that had been blank just yesterday, letters began to appear like ink seeping into paper.

“Holy shit, this is real.”

Was the author’s ghost haunting this book or something?

Swallowing my shock, I quickly read the text.

Aish, what the hell is this? Omniscient Scoundrel? Who came up with a subtitle like that?

Grinding my teeth, I turned to the first page. A preface appeared. I nearly fainted on the spot.