I Didn't Even Post 5,700 Characters of Rage
The words kept looping in my head like a broken record.
I didn't even write five thousand seven hundred characters in anger. So why the hell did this happen?
I'd just been scrolling through the comments on that godawful zombie apocalypse novel, the one with the trash plot and even trashier characters. The author had the protagonist acting like a complete idiot for the sake of cheap drama, and I couldn't take it anymore. My fingers flew across the keyboard in a blind fury.
Just a quick, savage takedown. A couple paragraphs at most. Definitely not five thousand seven hundred characters. I didn't even bother proofreading before I hit send. Then I closed the browser, satisfied that I'd done my civic duty as an internet warrior, and went to bed.
That was it. That was all.
So explain this.
You have been transported into the novel <Zombie Apocalypse: The Last Survivor>.
Due to the malicious comment left by user 'ApolloWorshipper,' your existence has been overwritten as a new character.
Warning: This world operates under the novel's original rules. Death is permanent.
I stared at the floating blue window hovering in front of my eyes. My first coherent thought was that I'd finally lost it. Too much late-night web novel reading had broken my brain. But then I tried to move, and everything felt... wrong.
My center of gravity was different. My arms were too thin. My hands—
I looked down.
Long black hair spilled over my shoulders. Delicate wrists. A chest that definitely hadn't been there yesterday. The reflection in the dirty window across the room showed a young woman in her early twenties, pretty in a plain sort of way, wearing clothes that looked like they'd been dragged through a war zone.
My brain short-circuited.
No. No no no. This isn't happening. This is some elaborate prank. Hidden camera. Something.
But the system window wouldn't disappear no matter how hard I blinked. And the smell—god, the smell. Rotting flesh and damp concrete and something metallic that I really didn't want to identify.
I knew this scene. I'd read it. This was chapter three of that garbage novel. The part where the side character—some disposable girl whose only purpose was to die horribly and give the male lead angst—wakes up in an abandoned hospital on the outskirts of Gimhae.
I was that side character.
Lee Yeji. Twenty-two years old. No notable skills, no plot armor, and according to the novel, destined to get torn apart by zombies within the next ten minutes.
My stomach dropped through the floor.
That fucking comment. I called the author a talentless hack who wouldn't know good pacing if it bit him in the ass. I said the TS trope was lazy and the protagonist was a self-insert edgelord. I might have also suggested his mother had questionable taste in literature.
And now I was living in his world. As a girl. With a body count timer ticking down in my head.
The distant sound of shuffling feet and low, guttural moans echoed from the hallway outside the room.
They were coming.
I looked at my trembling hands again—small, soft, completely useless for surviving a zombie apocalypse—and felt something between hysterical laughter and the sudden urge to scream.
Author-nim, if you're watching this somehow... I take it all back. Please. Just let me go home.
The system window flickered once more, displaying a new line in cold blue text.
Survive the First Day
📍 Location: Abandoned Hospital, Gimhae
🎁 Reward: Basic Survival Kit + 50 SP
⚠ Failure Condition: Death
The moans grew louder. Closer.
I swallowed hard, forcing my new, unfamiliar legs to stand.
Fine. If this was how it was going to be, then screw the original plot. Screw the author's lazy writing. I wasn't about to become zombie chow just because some neckbeard with a keyboard decided my character needed to die for shock value.
Time to show this trash novel what a professional internet troll could do when their life was literally on the line.
I grabbed a rusty IV stand from the corner of the room, gripping it like a baseball bat.
"Let's do this, you rotting bastards."
My voice came out higher and softer than I expected. It didn't matter.
The first zombie rounded the corner, its jaw hanging loose, eyes milky white.
I swung with everything I had.