During grade seven, when I just started entering the realm of web novels, I was pretty committed to this one novel.

Different from the hard-cover fantasy books, the realm of the internet meant books of different places could not only be found, but also translated. Like the ancient story of the Tower of Babel, people once again could understand each other, no matter the standpoint(language) of where you were from.

This story in particular, sparked a new interest in me. I had never entertained the notion of a concept called "regression", "returnees" or "reincarnation".

....The huge blocks of text did hamper me, but it did not hamper my enthusiasm. At that time, my pure intentions as a budding reader really was clean, but also naïve.

The landscape around me changed, carrying me into the projection of fantasy onto reality, where I could envision the dokkaebies with their mischievous and cruel grins, the beauty of sword dance, the halo of the main character making my blood race at times, and the miracles created that could only be seen when the end of the world was nigh.

I didn't mind the blood and gore, feeling myself removed from the situation. It was different from seeing it in a movie. With words, I felt an imperviousness. And only with words could I lose myself, to escape reality.

And then, it stopped.

Slowly but surely, something twisted in me, and I slowly felt a dread and depression with each scroll of my fingers. But I didn't stop. Couldn't. For me, back then, there was a creed I felt the obligation to keep. A work created by an author should be read until the end, no matter what.

With this, I endured the pain of the main character, the thin line of justice and evil, the deaths or aforementioned deaths of the characters I got attached to, or understanding the complexity of the so-called "villains".

It was during this time that new works caught my attention. They were infinitely better than the first web novel I picked up.

So, casting aside my creed for the first time, I felt released. Now, I immersed myself in unbelievable things and enjoyed it thoroughly. A new rule was added.

My mental health is more important, so if I ever felt I couldn't carry on, I must stop.

But then I read that novel a second time.

It was something that happened after a few months, where I judged that I had recovered from the last time's experience.

This time, I took everything as a grain of salt, armed with an upgrade as a connoisseur of stories. Not as a noob, but as an experienced newbie.

I lasted farther than the last attempt, but still succumbed. After all, whether I liked it or not, words held meaning, and they would affect me, little or not. The accumulated dread and depression swept me off my feet, once again.

Therefore, once again, I removed myself from the source of my discomfort.

A year went by at that point, and I moved to grade eight.

As if to pay homage and nostalgia, I entangled myself with the novel. Again.

I wonder if this is the strangeness of humans, or if it is just my own strangeness? In any case, wounds were forgotten, and now as a small-time novel veteran, I challenged the novel. There was nothing to fear if there was no pain.

This time, I was able to break the threshold and read through the novel half-way, where I stopped once again after my interest dried up and other more interesting works popped up into my reading life.

It was pretty painful in its own way to read that novel with ridiculously long chapter fillers based just on the setting or backstory that made my eyes and the depicted words slur.

And it was pretty weird in its own way that I decided to periodically come back to my very first web novel only to suffer and wave the white flag in defeat. Well, it has become something of a ritual now.

Man, I'm so sentimental.

Those memories of the times came back as I sat in the chair, opening the title once again. I scrolled through the chapter list, noticing that the average of the readers was a little over 2. Was the other a bot or something? Or perhaps the author liked to click on the chapter after publishing it to feel the validation of posting another chapter in the rising count of chapters. I could understand that.

Then again, there could also be another reader who could actually power through the whole thing consistently. Most comments were "thanks for the chapter", but there were some other realistic ones so it couldn't be a bot, nor the author.

Clicking into the most recent chapter, I continued where I left off, but my thoughts drifted off again as the filler entered my eyes and exited my brain.

If I were a character in this novel, how would it go?

I imagined the panic after the dokkeabie would appear, myself included. As for the setting...I would probably be in the classroom. Oh! And it would be cool and make sense if Lee Jihye was there, since we were the same age now.

Ah, but then I wouldn't want to be in a novel like this. I would freeze up, not knowing what to do and hoping to live, despite being cowardly to kill. To be honest, my fate would be precarious, because I didn't know if I would be the one to be killed in the first scenario.

Mm, a boring but safe life was still the best. I had no ambition except my imagination, and I would like to keep it that way.

"...Lee Jihye, could you pass me my eraser?"

The name felt like an electric jolt to me, and I immediately woke up. A flash of white and brief feeling of weightlessness due to my reaction swept through my lethargic body.

At first, I was confused and disoriented after just having woken up until sense restored the chronological order of events. Looking around, I was relieved no one noticed me dozing off. At least it was a study period.

And then my thoughts returned to the name.

Huh, that sounds just like that character's name. I thought. But then again, it was just a coincidence.

"Hm?" Wait. I let out a sound, because I didn't recall a person named "Lee Jihye" in this class.

That made me shoot to attention as I swerved my head around the heads of my classmates, but I could not spot-or more like recognize- Lee Jihye's face.

Was what I heard just a coincidence?

Trying to get over my embarrassment at jumping to conclusions, I reflexively turned on my phone hidden in my desk, the phone sneakily hidden away lest it be taken away by any patrolling teachers.

At this, I coincidently spotted the time hitting 7:00 pm.

An ethereal voice resounded as if I was wearing a pair of earphones, of a clearly transmitted sound.

[The free service of planetary system 8612 has been terminated]

[The main scenario has begun.]

And at the same time, the surface of the smartphone turned white, and the familiar word font of that novel floated to the screen.

'Who are you?'