[I hope you eat feces, Author.]
"The hell!?" Max almost spit out his soda as he looked at the comments on the latest chapter of his novel.
He didn't even move, just his eyes wandering over each comment as he read them and became even more speechless.
[Bro thinks he's G.R.R. Martin.]
[Thou shalt behead thyself.]
[I hope your pillows are warm at night!]
[I hope the horse gets horny seeing you!]
"Oii!"
[Not gonna lie, bro cooked with this one.]
[Goosebumps Chapter. Still, I hope you have diarrhea in the middle of traffic.]
[RIP Cassie! You will continue to shine like gold in my memories!]
"Yeah, this one was good. Seriously, what is up with everyone?" Max muttered, shaking his head.
There were more than five hundred comments in just one hour—what kind of nonsense was this? They never commented when he did something good, but when he killed their favorite, he was receiving threats.
"They should really get used to it now," he closed the comments section and whispered. "It isn't like the first time I killed important characters in my novel. It's necessary for the plot."
Max was one of the most successful web novel authors and had written two of the best-selling novels on the platform. Not to mention, even his current novel was in the top ten.
It wasn't that he wrote something great with profound depth and complexity. He simply wrote simple things that he liked and that his readers also enjoyed.
Many people called his novels average, with no depth or well-developed characters, but he didn't care. All he knew was that he was satisfied with his works, and so were his readers.
The current reaction showed how much his readers cared about his novels. They enjoyed his work for its simplicity and pure enjoyment, as their own lives were already a mess.
Of course, they were also tired of Max killing characters. This wasn't the first time he had done it, but Cassie was one of the fan favorites.
"Ah! Whatever, they should get over her," Max sighed. "Still, who would tell them how much it cost me to kill her?"
As he was talking to himself—a usual habit of his—the room's door burst open, taking him by surprise. He stood up in shock as he looked at the man barging into the room.
'Wait! Wait! What is happening? Wasn't this society the safest? How the fuck did someone break in?'
Max tried to calm his racing heart, but it was impossible as the man, carrying a damn shotgun, advanced towards him with eyes burning with fury.
Max gulped as he hid behind his computer desk. "Hello? Who might you be?"
"You don't need to know that," the man growled with a menacing grin. "You dare kill her."
"Huh? I'm innocent," Max protested, desperately buying time while trying to find some way to escape or inform the police.
However, the madman seemed to have lost all reason as he jumped and landed right before Max, shoving his shotgun against his face.
With a menacing grin plastered on his face, he said, "You like to kill characters, huh? Then die, bitch!"
Before Max could say or do anything, the shotgun was fired, and he lost consciousness. His whole head was blasted from his torso, splattering and coloring the wall and floor a deep crimson red.
The madman gasped for breath and muttered, "Damn it! Now Sis will again scold me!"
...
Max woke up with a start, his hand touching every corner of his face and head. Finding everything in place, he sighed in relief, feeling his heart pounding furiously against his chest.
'What the hell was that? A bad dream?'
Only then did he notice his surroundings, which were completely coated in white paint with nothing in sight as far as he could see.
'Well! I guess not. What is this? Heaven? I should at least get that, considering how good I was.'
"Oh, you were?" Max turned his head toward the source of the amused voice, finding a beautiful woman walking toward him. His heart skipped a beat, for she was easily the most beautiful, seductive woman he had ever seen.
She stood with graceful confidence, her long purple hair cascading down her back in soft waves. The silky, off-the-shoulder dress clung to her curves, featuring a high slit that showed off her smooth legs and the gentle shimmer of her stockings.
The fabric caught the light and highlighted each subtle shift of her body, drawing attention to the way the neckline dipped daringly to reveal a hint of cleavage. A delicate necklace rested just above her collarbone, adding an extra touch of elegance to her sultry look.
Her eyes, half-lidded with a mischievous spark, gave her a seductive air. Soft moonlight played across her flawless skin, and a faint smile curved her lips. The dress's color flowed from deep violet near her shoulders to a lighter lilac around the hem, accentuating every graceful movement.
'Damn! I'm going full description mode as usual!'
"Ara~ do you like me that much?" the woman asked with a smile, as she came to sit before Max and promptly summoned a table.
"Definitely!" Max answered without thinking twice. "Then, it means I'm in heaven if I'm meeting an angel?"
"Haha, thanks for the compliment, but no—you're not in heaven. Do you really think you will get to heaven?"
"Why not?" he asked in genuine confusion.
"Why don't you say that again after watching this?" the angelic woman said, as she projected a hologram with a graceful wave of her hand.
Seeing his chat history with his friends in his boys-only group, Max's face paled. He coughed and looked away, saying, "Maybe not!"
"Yes. Anyway, let me introduce myself so we can proceed with this," the woman bowed slightly and said. "My name is Kafka, the Goddess of your world. This isn't my real body, but rather something I assumed to meet you."
Kafka raised her head and continued, "I apologize on my brother's behalf. You weren't supposed to die early, but because my brother was enraged over Cassie's death, he killed you."
Max was left speechless as he processed her words. 'What the hell? So a god killed me simply because they didn't like my novel? Wait!'
"A god used to read my novels?" he asked, utterly bewildered.
"Yes, and I've also read all of your novels. They're really good," Kafka said with a smile as she took out his novel's cover picture and a pen. "On that note, can you give me your autograph?"
"Umm, sure," Max blinked and took the picture. "So, what is going to happen to me now? I'm pretty sure you can't revive me, right?"
"Yes, we can't do that," Kafka nodded. "But I can offer you a chance as compensation. Normally, you would already be in the underworld, but I decided to make an exception."
She grinned and continued, "In exchange, I want to see your story completed. So here is how we'll do things: I'll help you transmigrate into the protagonist's body at the start of your novel."
"Huh? No way, he doesn't have enough power to save everyone," Max instantly rejected, shaking his head. "And I don't want to live in a world where I'll lose my loved ones."
"Chill! Let me finish my words," Kafka said, waving her hand dismissively. "I'll also give you a Leveling System through which you can level up, and it will have a function where you'll receive rewards for saving the people you killed in the novel."
Hearing that, Max whistled. The offer was really tempting—indeed, the best one could ask for. He had only written novels to cure his boredom and to satisfy his longing to live in the favorite world he created.
There was a reason people called his novels wish fulfillment and self-insert fantasies.
Why would he reject such an offer? Still, he found it too good, so he asked, "And? What's the catch?"
"There is no catch. I'll be honest with you—I really like you and your novels, and I feel guilty because my brother killed you, so yes, I do want to give my favorite author a good life," Kafka said in all seriousness. "And I also want to see the novel end in a good way."
"Good way?" Max repeated in astonishment.
"Yes, a happy ending where the protagonist is with all the people he loves and cares about. None of them dies, and he gets to live a good life—unlike in your other novels."
Max smiled at the prospect, for it was exactly what he wanted. He loved the characters he had created, though he had only killed them because the plot demanded it—and not to mention, it brought him money.
But if he were to live in that world, he would try his best to keep them alive and live with them. He loved all of them, after all.
"That sounds good to me," Max said with a smile. "Last question: can't you just see the future and know what I wrote or perhaps what I will do in that world?"
"Not really. The future isn't decided by fate or destiny, and every single decision made by a person branches into parallel universes. There are infinite possibilities of what could happen, so there's no point in seeing the future," Kafka explained with a shrug.
"Anyway, just tell me what you have chosen: do you want to go to hell for your group chat, or do you agree to my offer to live a fantastic life in your world with your favorite characters?" she asked.
"Is that even a question? Of course, I want to be the protagonist and have my own harem," Max declared boldly. "That reminds me, can I court you? Or is that against some divine policies?"
"Oh my! Do you want this goddess in your harem too?" Kafka asked, her eyes shining with an amused glint.
"Why not? You're so beautiful, nice, and kind. You're even helping me fulfill my wish, and you're also my fan. We share the same interests..." Max continued enthusiastically.
"Easy, boy!" Kafka chuckled. "Alright, I'll give you a chance. I'll become the system for you and follow you on your journey. If I find it satisfying, then I'll agree to be your wife!"
"Great! Then, let's start our wish fulfillment self-insert life."