* * *

Roran, the author of No to Obsession, was thoroughly enjoying the life he’d found himself in since he’d somehow entered his own story.

It was a perfect life—one where fame and fortune came without him having to lift a finger.

There was nothing he lacked, so he had no reason to envy anyone, no reason to feel any sort of inferiority.

Nor was there any anxiety or uncertainty about the future. C

ould a dream get any better than this? Roran thought not.

After finishing his day by dumping endless amounts of money into his gaming account, Roran relaxed in a large bathtub, the kind you’d only find in public bathhouses.

Just as he was soaking in the warmth, a system notification window suddenly appeared.

[System: Authority over ‘Lee Eungyeol,’ the main character, has been significantly reduced. Restore the original trajectory.]

“What…?”

Roran sighed, utterly annoyed, and the system displayed a massive wall of text—updated content from No to Obsession, a novel he hadn’t bothered to check in ages.

Sighing, Roran stepped out of the tub, sitting on its edge as he began to read through the words on the screen.

As he read, a mocking smirk settled on his lips.

The endless hostility from Yeongdeok toward him seemed almost laughable.

“…Why is this guy so fixated on me? I’m the one who created him, for crying out loud.”

In this world, Roran was practically a god.

Everyone adored him, envied him, even worshipped him.

Yet, somehow, Yeongdeok alone seemed determined to reject him, like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit.

Roran didn’t exactly hate ‘Cha Dowon,’ a character who had caused him endless stress in previous dreams.

After all, this was only a lucid dream.

Feeling anything toward a character he’d created was a ridiculous notion.

“Still, it’s a nice change of pace…”

A faint smirk appeared on Roran’s lips.

He wasn’t too concerned whether Yeongdeok harbored resentment or hostility toward him.

But in this otherwise idyllic dream world, Yeongdeok, the lone dissenting voice, provided a surprisingly entertaining challenge.

A game with no obstacles would be boring, after all. A target worth conquering was essential.

“Alright, then… let’s see what I can do.”

Roran leaned in, reading Yeongdeok’s inner monologue as if he intended to consume every word.

He’d show Yeongdeok exactly where he belonged.

The idea of toppling this arrogant man who thought he was the best sparked an odd excitement in him.

It was bound to be interesting.

To Roran, Yeongdeok’s antagonism was nothing more than a way to alleviate his own boredom, a simple diversion in this endless dream.

After all, this place was nothing more than a long, long dream set against the backdrop of his own novel.

ꔚ

With the May festival at Daehan University over, mid-May quietly settled in.

Yeongdeok had been spending his days in a repetitive routine, cycling between his shop and home.

Since the news of PetitRolang’s upcoming project had dropped, he had been on high alert, wondering what mischief the writer might pull, but despite his worries, his days drifted along uneventfully, even feeling more peaceful than before.

Could the news about PetitRolang’s next project have been a simple mishap?

If so, does that mean the writer has completely lost the power to alter the story?

From the previous September when things had first returned to their original state, up until now in May…

In over half a year, he had messed up the story to such an extent that perhaps Yeongdeok’s revenge… was a success?

Lost in thought, Yeongdeok blankly watched the chicken sizzle in the fryer.

Even if he thought of it as a successful revenge, he didn’t feel the satisfaction he’d expected.

Instead, he was left feeling like the road ahead was murky.

Was this really the end?

It felt almost absurd.

Yeongdeok convinced himself that this strange feeling was simply because he couldn’t see PetitRolang’s true form.

Without any visible sign of success in his revenge, he felt empty.

It made sense for his feelings to be vague and unclear.

If the revenge was truly over, what on earth was he supposed to do next?

As he mulled over it, he moved the perfectly golden chicken onto a plate.

The next page of his revenge felt blank, as white as a fresh sheet.

No matter how much he thought, no answers came.

The more he thought about it, the stranger he felt, so he tried to focus entirely on frying chicken to clear his mind.

ꔚ

In front of Yeongdeok’s shop, with its quaint red sign, a pair of expensive designer shoes came to a halt.

The man wearing them lifted a corner of his mouth in a slight smirk as he placed his hand on the shop door, and with a crisp bell chime, the door opened.

Hearing the chime, Jihoon, who had been serving a chicken, responded like Pavlov’s dog and turned to greet the man who had just entered.

“Welcome…”

Halfway through his greeting, Jihoon swallowed his words, overwhelmed by the man’s aura.

With ash-blue hair and sharp features, the man exuded a mysterious, otherworldly charm.

Although clearly human, he somehow didn’t seem like one.

Jihoon, momentarily captivated, quickly realized his rudeness and shook himself back to his senses.

“Sorry about that. You’re just so good-looking I couldn’t help staring.”

Jihoon threw out a compliment to ensure he hadn’t offended the customer.

“Are you here alone? Let me show you to your seat.”

He guided the man to an empty table in the center and handed him the menu.

The man started browsing, and as Jihoon was about to attend to other customers, the man beckoned him over with a mere finger gesture.

Though he could have said “excuse me” or “I’d like to order,” the silent gesture struck Jihoon as odd, but it wasn’t enough to label him a troublesome customer, so he restrained himself and approached him.

“What would you like to order?”

“….”

“Sir?”

Even when prompted again, the man didn’t respond, simply folding his arms.

“Hm…”

The man rubbed his chin, eyeing Jihoon as if examining him.

Their gazes met, and Jihoon felt an inexplicable unease.

“The system was right. A character who’s gained self-awareness… I see.”

The man muttered to himself, like someone talking to a ghost, nodding to himself.

Jihoon silently hoped this strange customer wouldn’t turn out to be a problem.

“Um, if you haven’t decided yet, just take your time and let me know…”

“One fried chicken, please.”

The man raised his index finger and gave Jihoon a warm smile.

Though Jihoon cringed inside, he kept a neutral face and acknowledged the order.

Back in the kitchen, Jihoon passed on the order.

“Cha Yeongdeok, one fried chicken.”

“Got it.”

“Oh, and there’s a weird customer in the dining area.”

“A troublemaker?”

“Not exactly, but he keeps muttering to himself… looking at me in a strange way.”

Jihoon broke off his complaint as he sensed someone watching him, turning to find the man staring at him intently.

Shivers crept up his arms as he rubbed them.

“What’s with that stare?”

“If he’s not a troublemaker, quit whining and get back to work.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Dismissing Yeongdeok’s scolding, Jihoon resolved to focus on his job.

It wasn’t like he had time to dwell on every odd customer—his boss was eccentric enough.

To survive around so many strange people, he had to toughen up.

He brought water, cabbage salad, and dipping sauce to the man’s table.

As he attended to other customers, the golden-brown chicken he’d ordered came out, and Jihoon placed the freshly fried chicken before him.

“Enjoy your meal.”

Barely had Jihoon set down the plate when the man picked up a drumstick and took a small bite.

After swallowing, he called Jihoon over.

“Excuse me.”

“Yes?”

At the sound of his voice, Jihoon approached him.

“Could you call the owner over?”

“May I ask why?”

“There’s something I’d like to say to him.”

The man offered a subtle smile.

Guessing that he must have a valid reason for wanting to see Yeongdeok, Jihoon headed to the kitchen, where Yeongdeok was washing a pile of dishes.

“Cha Yeongdeok.”

“What?”

“There’s a customer asking for you.”

“What for?”

“No idea. He says he has something to say.”

Though he hadn’t finished the dishes, the customer was calling for him.

Yeongdeok removed his sudsy gloves and followed Jihoon out to the dining area.

The man waiting there exuded a strangely foreign aura, catching even Yeongdeok’s usually indifferent gaze.

He wasn’t particularly exotic-looking, nor did he stand out in any obvious way, but he radiated an odd, almost incompatible vibe, like he didn’t quite belong to this world.

“You called…?”

Standing before the man, Yeongdeok watched as the man narrowed his eyes, a smirk spreading across his face.

Why was he smiling like that?

* * *