Chapter 1
Hiatus. Or as it's abbreviated in Korean, "yeonjung."
The ultimate betrayal to readers. Something an author should never do.
But betrayal exists to be committed and I’m the type of trash to do exactly that.
I put my novel, The Ice Knight of the Academy, on hiatus just before the final battle. Right before the climax, no less.
I couldn’t help it. The protagonist had become too strong, the power creep was spiraling out of control, and the story was careening off the rails. I tried to force things back on track, but it was hopeless. I wanted the hero to flirt with the heroines, but I couldn’t even justify why they liked him in the first place.
It was the best decision. At least, that’s what I told myself.
Until that happened—
Ding.
It was a notification from an email.
[ Author, “The Ice Knight of the Academy” has been set to private. Was this a mistake? ]
One of the few remaining readers of my trash novel. But I couldn’t bring myself to reply.
What was I supposed to say? [It was so bad, I had to put it on hiatus]?
Sorry, buddy. See you in my next work.
Marking the email as read, I pretended to brainstorm my next story—really, I was just taking a break—when another email pinged in my inbox.
[ Author, if you don’t reply, I might really go crazy. It was a mistake, right? Please tell me it was a mistake. ]
Apologies, my friend. You must’ve really enjoyed it. But if you found that entertaining, you’ll find anything a masterpiece.
It’s like Dragon Ball training: take off the 500-ton weight of my garbage novel, and suddenly, everything else feels ten times better.
[ This is your last chance. If you don’t answer, I don’t know what I’ll do. Please. I need to see Kim Taehyun’s final battle. ]
"..."
I stared at the screen, frowning.
Is this guy serious? Now he’s sending threats?
“I should’ve known. Anyone who stuck with my trash to the very end is definitely unhinged.”
I wasn’t even going to mark it as read. Just delete and block.
It stung to block someone who genuinely liked my work, but this was beyond my control. They’d already crossed into stalker territory. Mentally, I’m as fragile as a Crunky bar. Scratch that—I’m more delicate than a sunfish.
I can’t handle another 5,700-character email rant.
So, block.
“Huh?”
Yet all of a sudden, the world around me shifted. One moment, I was in my cramped, dirty studio. The next, I was standing on a vast expanse of blue sky.
Clouds—beneath my feet—spread out like the ground itself. Rainbows stretched endlessly across the horizon. Below me, a building that resembled an ancient Roman temple stood tall. And in front of it, a figure.
“Lee Sunghoon, 25 years old. Dropped out of Korean Lit, said “I’m going to be a novelist~”, dropped out, and then... actually became one. Is that correct? …Stop sipping your tea and answer. Please.”
“Yup, yup, it’s all correct. Give me a sec.”
There were two of them. One looked like your friendly neighborhood uncle, smiling warmly with a beard that looked prickly if touched.
The other one was an angel. No other way to describe her.
She wore Roman-style white robes, and twelve pure white wings extended from her back. Her beauty was otherworldly, like a divine sculpture meant to inspire awe.
But that impression shattered in about three seconds.
Three seconds before she met my gaze, covered her mouth, and smirked—as if she was saying “You’re done for now.”
My fists clenched, and an unfamiliar sense of childish rage surged. The kind I hadn’t felt since the time I fought with the girl next to me in elementary school.
I glared at her. She glared back. Oh, a challenge, huh?
Sorry girlie, but I don't lose staring contests.
“Ahem.”
The man cleared his throat, breaking our intense eye contact.
The angel finally looked away. Victory was mine. I smirked as if to say, Who's laughing now?
"Lee Sunghoon?"
"Yes?"
I heard him grinding his teeth, but I answered before it got worse.
"Didn’t I warn you about what would happen if you ignored me one more time?”
"...?"
The man sighed as I stared, he seemed to be confused.
“Didn’t you check your email?”
Ah, that email! The threatening one!
Suddenly, my brain kicked into gear, piecing together the supernatural absurdity of my situation. Clouds. Angel. Email. Threat.
Shit! This man must either be God, or at least something close to it. Otherwise, none of this made sense.
Even for a novelist, this was a bit too much.
“Correct. I’m God. Sorry for being petty.”
“Haha…. Umm, so you can read my thoughts?”
He smiled, but it wasn’t the comforting kind. It was more like the you’re fucked up kind.
“This is the celestial realm. And you… probably already know why you’re here.”
Eh, kidnapping little old me over a mere novel? That’s a bit… petty.
“You know that I can hear everything you’re thinking, right?”
“Ah, right.”
I scratched my head, feeling awkward. Tsk. Why did he have to hear everything?
Pfft.
The angel, who had been barely holding it together, burst into laughter. But when God glared at her, she quickly composed herself, though it didn’t seem genuine.
“Anyway, I wanted to see the end of the novel. That’s why I called you here.”
Ah. This was starting to sound familiar. Was this one of those scenarios where the author gets reincarnated into their own novel? I’ve read stuff like this before.
Is this how my golden era begins?
“No, it’s not like that at all.”
“What?”
God’s smile widened as he crushed my delusions.
“The celestial realm is, how do I say this... boring.”
Boring? He’s a deity and he’s bored?
“There’s nothing to do. Conversations get stale after a day or two. Watching over the mortal world isn’t that interesting either. But modern culture—creative works, games—they’re endless. It’s been more entertaining than all those centuries of constant wars.”
His gaze locked onto me, and even though he was still smiling, it sent chills down my spine.
“And lately, I have been reading this novel I enjoyed, but... it went on hiatus. Care to explain why?”
“I’m really sor—”
“No need to apologize. I’ve got a solution.”
God picked up a file the angel handed him and started reading aloud.
"Mr. Lee Sunghoon. You're quite the character. I did a bit of a background check, you know."
He began listing my embarrassing history, starting from when I made my kindergarten teacher furious at age five. The angel behind him had stopped holding back and was now openly giggling.
Next was when I fought and lost to the girl next to me at eight because she crossed over to my desk.
Then at eleven, when I tried to deliver a "justice kick" to a high school student smoking, only to end up losing everything but my underwear.
At fifteen, I attempted to smoke but screwed it up so badly I ended up in the emergency room.
At eighteen, I bragged about writing novels, only to get caught by bullies who made me read it out aloud.
At twenty-one, I punched a girl in the face during a group project, declaring, "This is what true gender equality looks like!"
And most recently. Seriously arguing with a five-year-old for calling me a "mister" and even losing the fucking argument…
"Pfft... hahaha!"
Stop. Please, just stop. The girl couldn’t even stand straight anymore, she kept laughing as if it was the funniest shit ever, clutching her stomach as if it might burst.
"So I wondered. How could someone this interesting, who's also a novelist, decide to put their work on hiatus?"
"Well, that's because I couldn't write—"
"Haha! I called you here to fix that!"
“God” clapped his hands, and with the sound, appeared a roulette wheel.
Hmm, something felt off…
Wait, I think I know why. I’d seen this setup too many times before.
"You see, when people are comfortable, they get lazy. It's only when they’re really struggling that they show their true potential. That’s been my belief since the dawn of time, but…"
Stop! I don’t want to hear this. I want to hear this even less than my own embarrassing history from earlier!
I hesitated and tried to distance myself, but the voice pressed on.
"I’ll let you take whatever comes up on the roulette. It could be a skill or maybe an item."
"Look, I have panic disorder, alright? I was exempted from military service because of it. All I do all day is sit in front of a computer. I don’t even exercise. My parents are still alive, so—"
"It's fine."
God cut me off, waving away my excuses. This was bad. This wasn’t the beginning of a ‘Regressor’ story…
This was…
The start of a possession story.
"Don’t worry, haha! Once you reach the ending, I'll send you back to your world. If you want, I can even rewind time to before your hiatus and make it like all of this never happened."
Yet, “God” continued talking.
"If the ending satisfies me, I’ll grant you a wish. If you want, I can even make you a god. A lower-ranking one, though."
I don't need that! If I have one wish, it's to go home right now! Also, could you please smite that woman who’s laughing like crazy? Thanks!
"Hmmm… Well then, good luck. That’s what you get for putting your story on hiatus. People were enjoying it, you know?"
“God” smiled as the roulette began to spin—
"Work hard! Bye~"
—and eventually, it came to a stop.
All of a sudden a hole opened beneath my feet. I flailed, trying to grab onto something—anything—but the entire floor was already gone, and I started falling into nothingness.
"Hmm, wait a sec… I’m worried about sending you alone. Yes! I’ll assign you a guide. This one’s name is Raphael, and, well, she will be somewhat useful. Maybe."
"Wait, wha?"
The angel who had been laughing hysterically until now—Raphael—looked up at God, shocked. I could see her bewilderment from where I was.
But it was too late. A hole had opened beneath her feet as well. She scrambled to grab onto God’s trousers, but he brushed her hand off.
"My Lord? You’re joking, right? This is a joke, right? I’m an angel! A seraph!! One of the highest-ranking angels! I belong by your side!!"
"Eh, there are six more like you. Have a nice trip."
The floating sensation that had been wrapping around me like a tightening coil suddenly intensified. The wind roared in reverse, making it impossible to breathe.
With the wind choking me, the fear of falling from an unimaginable height, and the humiliation of being forced into my own novel, one thought crossed my mind:
Can a being who throws an author into their own work just because it went on hiatus really be called God?
That could be answered by quoting the words of a famous dude.
“God is dead.” - Friedrich Nietzsche.
Nietzsche, you were right buddy, you were right…
***
"..."
When I opened my eyes, I found myself on a bench. Beside me, a blonde beauty was peacefully sleeping, her eyes closed. I was dressed in a school uniform so green it might as well have been algae-colored.
"I really did get dragged in."
I looked around. People were bustling about, completely ignoring us, as if we’d been here all along.
Their hair caught my attention—vibrant colors you’d be lucky to see once in the real world.
[The entrance ceremony will begin soon. All students, please proceed to the auditorium immediately—]
And there it was—an announcement to hammer home the reality I still couldn’t believe. Every situation unfolding around me seemed to scream one thing: "You’re screwed. LOL."
Haha! I wasn’t loving it. Not at all!
I glanced up at the sky. That bastard who threw me in here must be watching from above.
He said:
[ Once you reach the ending, I'll send you back to your world. ]
[ If you want, I’ll even grant you a wish. ]
If that’s the deal, then I only have one thing I need to do.
Help the protagonist, Kim Taehyun, reach the ending, graduate from the academy, and return to my world—
I paused mid-thought. And one thought hit me.
"But… Why should I?"
Why should I do what that damn bastard wants? All he said was that he wanted to see the ending of the novel.
He didn’t specify anything. Just the ending.
No matter how terrible it is. Even if a meteor wipes out the characters, or ninjas pop out of nowhere and massacre everyone—an ending’s an ending.
In that case…
I absolutely won’t give him the ending he wants. He’s expecting to see Kim Taehyun’s final battle.
So, there’s only one thing for me to do: prevent the battle between Kim Taehyun and the final boss.
"No, that's not it."
No. That won’t cut it. Just that won’t satisfy me. If you’re going to shove someone into their own novel, there should be consequences.
Suddenly, inspiration struck me. The kind that hit Newton when he saw that apple fall.
"What if I mess with his growth and weaken him…?"
What’s the most disappointing situation imaginable? Yes! I know! The protagonist falling in the final battle—completely helpless, no flashbacks, no miraculous comeback.
A grin spread across my face. My goal was now clear.
"Alright."
"What's alright?"
Startled by the sudden voice, I turned to see the blonde, blue-eyed beauty leaning in close. She had a somewhat pouty expression on her face.
Her cheeks were puffed up, it felt as if you poked them, they’d make a ridiculous sound.
"What? You're not mad?"
Honestly, I expected her to throw a fit. After what I saw up in the celestial realm, I thought she’d start fighting the moment she woke up. But surprisingly, she seemed pretty calm.
"Hmph! How could I, an angel, be angry at something God ordered? There must be a reason! Our God may not be omnipotent, but He is omniscient, you know?"
Well, that’s something to brag about.
I clicked my tongue and decided to lay out my plan to Raphael. We were stuck in this together, whether she liked it or not.
Who knows? Maybe she wanted revenge, too.
But after hearing me out, Raphael stared at me like I was the filthiest thing she’d ever seen and said:
"Are you crazy?"
Yes. I am indeed.