"Kim Seojun, was it?" The editor's voice was cold, barely glancing up from my manuscript. "Your novel has been rejected. Again. You have no talent in this field, so you might as well give up."
The words struck me, but I forced a smile. "I won't give up. Please, just one more chance."
He sighed, rolling his eyes as he glanced at his watch. "Fine. But next time will be your final shot. Bring something unique and interesting. I'm a busy man—I have appointments lined up. Meet me at Astrea Novel's 3rd floor at 11:00 p.m. Don't be late."
"Got it!" I replied, my voice brighter than I felt. This was it—one last chance with Astrea Novel, the most prestigious publishing agency in Korea. A place where dreams turned into bestsellers, where a mere contract was a golden ticket to success.
But deep down, a familiar heaviness settled in my chest. Just how many times had they rejected me? Each rejection chipped away at my confidence, but I wasn't ready to quit. Not yet.
As I left, I typed out a quick message to Jiyeon, the one person who always encouraged me. They're giving me one more chance! She replied right away with a string of happy emojis and a "You can do this, Seojun! I believe in you! Fighting!"
I read her message again, holding onto it like a lifeline. Jiyeon and I had grown up together. She was one of the few people who hadn't mocked my dream. Over the years, she had always been there, cheering me on, always the first to read every draft and the only one who saw something special in my words.
I rushed home, my mind swirling with ideas and half-formed sentences. I didn't want to let Jiyeon down. This one had to be different—something that would stand out.
My name is Kim Seojun, a 21-year-old part-timer at WcDonald's. By day, I served burgers and mopped floors, but by night, I poured my heart into novels. Stories had saved me more times than I could count. When I was bullied at school, novels were my escape. When I failed the college entrance exam, novels kept me going. And Jiyeon kept me going too, always with a smile, always telling me, "One day, your words will reach the world."
I remembered the first story I'd ever written. I was so excited that I ran down the street with pages spilling from my hands. I crashed into someone—the author of Touched by Darkness, Saved by Light. A famous novel in Astrea. He picked up my crumpled pages, smiled at me, and said, "One day, you'll write something amazing." Those words and Jiyeon's encouragement stayed with me, lighting a spark I couldn't let go.
I want… to write a masterpiece. For myself and for her.
The next day, I arrived at Astrea's building an hour early, clutching my new manuscript. I messaged Jiyeon, "Almost there! I think this is the one." She responded with a heart and a smile, reminding me to stay confident. I waited in the lobby, watching the clock tick down, each second building my hope.
But the editor didn't show up. Midnight approached, and my eyelids grew heavy. Finally, exhaustion won over, and I drifted off.
Shaaaaa…
A strange noise jolted me awake. I blinked, disoriented. What time is it? Checking my phone, I saw it was 12:00 a.m. Did the editor come and leave? Not only that, my phone has ran out of battery.Panic bubbled up, and I hurried into the building, but it was pitch-black, silent except for my quickening breath.
"Kim Seojun…"
"Editor??" No, the editor doesn't sound like this.
The voice echoed in the darkness, chilling and unfamiliar. I whipped around, heart hammering, and saw a hooded figure standing at the end of the hallway. My stomach dropped.
"I've been waiting for you," he hissed, his voice dripping with malice.
A cold sweat broke over my skin. Then, in one fluid motion, he pulled a knife from his cloak and charged at me, blade glinting in the darkness.
I barely dodged, but the knife caught me, slashing through my cheek and grazing my right eye. Pain shot through my face, blurring my vision.
The figure let out a twisted laugh, echoing in the empty hallway. "Better than I thought! But not enough."
My hands trembled as I fought to steady myself. I reached blindly to the side, grabbing a heavy book from a nearby shelf and hurling it to the left to distract him. Then, with every ounce of strength, I bolted to the right, my heartbeat pounding louder than my footsteps.
Just get out—get to the door!
But the hallway seemed endless, stretching on and on. I skidded around a corner, hope flaring as the exit came into sight. I lunged for the door handle, threw it open, and stumbled outside, gasping.
And then—sharp, hot pain. I looked down to see the knife embedded in my chest, piercing through my heart. The hooded figure's cold laughter echoed as my vision dimmed.
"Got you," he sneered, his face twisted with manic glee.
The world spun. My body grew heavy as blood seeped onto the ground, staining the pages of my manuscript that scattered around me like broken dreams.
Is this really… the end? I thought, my last, bitter regret surfacing. My novel… never even got accepted… And Jiyeon… I would never see her smile again.
My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the ground. Darkness closed in, and I felt myself slipping away.
Then, somewhere distant, a soft chime echoed, followed by a voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.
Back then…
Ding!
[System]: You have been reincarnated to the fantasy novel •••••• and have received a [gift]. Would you like to claim it?
[YES] [NO]
I had no idea...
My fading consciousness clung to that strange message, as if it were a lifeline. I couldn't understand what was happening, but a single thought anchored me: This isn't over.
…that the genre of my story had been completely changed.