7,500 Characters of Pure Rage
I didn’t send a 5,700-character complaint. I sent a full 7,500-character manifesto. Following a niche web novel that nobody else read, stubbornly trudging through every chapter by myself—that should be praised as dedication, not treated as a crime. My real grievance wasn’t with the usual transmigration clichés. No. It was the fact that the only novel I’d followed almost single-handedly had crashed and burned with an ending so garbage it felt like a personal attack.
If the author was the perpetrator, then I—the reader who’d stuck with it to the bitter end—was the victim. That much was obvious.
If my dissatisfaction had simply ended at “I don’t like this cliché” or “the narrative device fell flat,” I could have lived with it. If I’d been in any position to change the ending myself, I would have. But the web novel I’d loved reading, The Villainess of Lily Academy Who Doesn't Want to Sue!—affectionately known as Villainess Sue—had a premise that was already bizarre enough. It followed a duke’s daughter from the academy who, after failing to physically bully the commoner protagonist, dragged her into a special courtroom inside the academy to have her legally expelled.
Was it fun? …I honestly couldn’t say. If it had been genuinely entertaining, it wouldn’t have stayed a lonely little niche novel that only I kept reading. To be completely honest, what drew me in were the yuri romance between the princess—who played the defense attorney for the protagonist inside the all-girls academy—and the heroine herself, along with the complicated history between the villainess (who was also the princess’s childhood friend) and the princess. The actual writing? I never once thought it was particularly good.
The premise was off, the pacing was awkward… still, I endured it all. I was curious how the relationship between those three would unfold, so I paid for all three hundred chapters. Even if the ending wasn’t perfectly satisfying, I believed I at least deserved an ending that wouldn’t make me feel like the author had lost their damn mind.
But the actual ending was…
“Therefore, this court hereby changes the defendant’s name from Elena Kerru to Maria von Letiaponk.”
“Following the change, we shall now deliver the verdict. The defendant Maria von Letiaponk is found guilty. The sentence… shall be death.”
What kind of court even does that?
And why the hell was the princess—the one who was supposed to be the defense attorney—delivering the verdict? Where was the logic? The entire story had been built around the academy professors serving as jurors and the headmaster acting as the judge. If the princess could just waltz in during the final chapter, with zero foreshadowing or explanation, and sentence the duke’s daughter to death, then what was the point of spending three hundred chapters gathering evidence and arguing in court?
Weren’t they supposed to be old friends? So why was there no conflict, no psychological description, no desperate counterattack from the one being condemned? Even if we generously pretended this development was somehow possible—which it absolutely wasn’t—there should have been at least something. The protagonist’s inner thoughts. The villainess’s reaction. The professors’ shock. Anything. But there was nothing. It was the sloppiest ending I had ever seen.
The novel had never been that great to begin with, but it also never felt like the author had completely switched their brain off. That’s why the sheer stupidity of the finale left me speechless. I had been ready to forgive almost any ending. No matter how disappointing, I would have clapped politely and moved on. Even if the whole thing had turned out to be a dream, it wouldn’t have been this ridiculous. I might have even felt a little sympathy—must have been hard carrying a niche story this far when you couldn’t stick the landing.
But this? This I could not forgive.
The author had taken a perfectly serviceable ending where the professors would have condemned the villainess and instead ruined it with zero logic, zero setup, and zero respect for everything that came before. So I opened the email address listed on the author’s profile and wrote a complaint that exceeded seven thousand characters. I meticulously listed every single plot hole from chapter one to three hundred, every piece of foreshadowing that was never paid off, every unexplained emotional arc and missing backstory. I poured every ounce of my rage into that lengthy petition.
Once it was done, I told myself I hadn’t crossed into personal attacks or defamation, so in the worst case my email would simply be marked as spam or tossed into the trash. With that comforting thought, I flopped onto my bed.
“It was still kind of fun, though…”
Yeah. I kept saying it wasn’t fun, but that was obviously a lie. There’s no way I would have followed a boring story for over three hundred chapters and then written a seven-thousand-character complaint just because the ending sucked. I had enjoyed it. I really had.
But after an ending like that, I needed to convince myself it hadn’t been fun at all. Only then could I avoid feeling like I’d wasted all that time.
“I was even looking forward to the ending…”
Muttering any more wouldn’t change anything. I quietly closed my eyes. Whether I was hoping for a reply or praying there wouldn’t be one, I couldn’t even tell. I simply drifted into a lonely, hollow sleep.
Tomorrow I would forget about this trash novel and return to my normal life. That was for the best.
…Wait. What even was my normal life again?
Come to think of it, I couldn’t quite remember what productive things I’d been doing lately…
Well, once I opened my eyes, I could sort my thoughts out then.
Once I opened my eyes…
When I opened my eyes again, I had become a beautiful blonde girl with drill-shaped hair.