* * *

Turning, he looked up the stairs to see Seonwoo, who had somehow left the crowd to come after him.

With a puzzled tone, Yeongdeok asked,

“What is it?”

“You’re just going to leave?”

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? What else would I stay for?”

“At least hear an apology. I’m really sorry for everything.”

Seonwoo abruptly bowed his head and came down the stairs to stand next to him.

“And… sorry for what I said earlier.”

“Forget it. From what you’ve said, it sounds like I’ve made some mistakes too.”

“And thank you.”

Seonwoo flashed a bright smile, looking lighter, as if the burden he’d been carrying had been lifted.

Yeongdeok thought it was better to see him smiling than crying—his crying face had been too unpleasant to bear.

“I didn’t do anything worth thanking me for. As I said earlier, I was just speaking my mind.”

“I know. But because it was Cha Yeongdeok who said it, it gave me comfort.”

“Did it?”

Seonwoo didn’t say anything more.

Thinking the conversation was over, Yeongdeok pulled out his phone to check for public transportation options.

But just then, Seonwoo, after a pause, spoke again.

“Earlier… you told me to live however I want, right?”

At the sound of those words, Yeongdeok’s eyes lifted from his phone to look at him.

And in that instant, without any warning, Seonwoo suddenly grabbed him by the collar.

“What the…!”

Dragged along by Seonwoo, Yeongdeok couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

The moment their faces drew close, Seonwoo kissed him without hesitation.

The soft and moist sensation on his lips felt foreign to Yeongdeok.

Seonwoo’s lips moved slightly, as if craving more, but Yeongdeok forcefully pushed Seonwoo’s chest away and vigorously wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

“I should’ve sent you to a hospital ages ago. Have you lost your mind?”

“You told me to do whatever I wanted, didn’t you?”

“…”

“You were right. From now on, I’ll live doing what I want.”

Seonwoo’s drooping eyes had a sly and crafty look.

Yeongdeok thought Seonwoo must have misunderstood what he’d said.

Seriously, what an idiot.

“Seems like you’re out of your mind.”

“I’m completely normal, but this feels so unfair. I’m in great shape today.”

Seonwoo stretched his arms forward, flexing as if to show off, before turning on his heel toward the concert hall.

He declared that, with such amazing energy, he’d take pictures with the remaining audience.

“Cha Yeongdeok, let’s meet often from now on. Let me know when you get home safely.”

When had Seonwoo said, “Let’s never meet again”?

Yeongdeok watched him fade into the distance, thinking how fickle the man was.

ꔚ

‘I may not be good at listening, but I’ve always thought Seonwoo’s performances moved people’s hearts. So why do you think so poorly of yourself?’

At Eungyeol’s words, Seonwoo recalled a moment from his past.

The look of disdain in Cha Dowon’s eyes and the voice that had called him pathetic were etched into his mind, refusing to leave.

His expression twisted in pain, and Eungyeol, perhaps noticing his discomfort, gently held his hands.

‘If it’s hard for you, don’t worry about the audience. Just think of it as playing for me.’

Seonwoo smiled faintly at Eungyeol’s words.

e’d only approached Eungyeol to spite Cha Dowon, but now he found himself oddly comforted by this person.

As Seonwoo felt the warmth of Eungyeol’s hands, a strange calm began to settle over him.

.

.

.

‘Oh, your rehabilitation seems to be going well. A little more effort, and you should have no trouble in your daily life.’

‘Piano? Playing the piano is… probably too difficult.’

As Seonwoo left the hospital, he looked up at the sky.

The one responsible for destroying his hand, Cha Dowon, was dead—hit by a truck.

Who would have thought that such an arrogant man would die that way?

Bitter laughter slipped from Seonwoo’s parted lips.

He couldn’t demand an apology from someone already dead, nor could he exact revenge for everything that had been ruined.

Attending Dowon’s funeral, Seonwoo had stood before his portrait, overwhelmed by a mix of emotions he couldn’t clearly define.

His heart was seething with rage, yet his head remained cold.

Part of him even felt a sense of relief.

There was no longer even a shred of affection left for Dowon.

‘Never again. Not ever again.’

Seonwoo’s irises flared with a fierce light as he gazed at Dowon’s portrait.

His resolution hardened with deadly seriousness.

He vowed to cast off his weakness, to accept his father’s will, and to crush any threats directed at Eungyeol, so that someone like Cha Dowon could never torment him again.

ꔚ

Yes, that’s how the story was supposed to progress later on.

[Baek Seonwoo (Gong 2): Approached Lee Eungyeol for revenge on Cha Yeongdeok, whom he loved in his youth, only to #$%&@^#$@!$]

—An error has occurred.

The episode with Seonwoo’s concert was supposed to be the turning point where Seonwoo began to see Eungyeol differently.

But instead, Cha Dowon had resolved it, and now Seonwoo’s determination was set in stone.

And it was completely opposite to the direction Roran had planned.

And that wasn’t all.

Seo Jihoon, Ha Wonjin—the entire plot of the novel had become bizarre.

Roran was no longer sure if he could even call this story his own.

He glanced at the comment section beyond the screen, his eyes dull and lifeless.

[No to obsession / Author: PetitRolang]

[Heozeop: At first, I thought the author was messing with the readers, and I cursed like crazy, but the way Cha Yeongdeok acts is surprisingly entertaining, so now I check it out whenever I have time.]

[Daumpyeon333: ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ Most of the readers have left, and the comment section’s practically a wasteland, but am I the only one who finds this more fun…? Am I a weirdo for liking niche stuff?]

It’s not Cha Yeongdeok.

The character I created was Cha Dowon.

And what?

You think this ridiculous storyline is more fun?

Roran bit his tongue and resisted the urge to reply to Daumpyeon333 with, “Are you blind?”

Instead, he scrolled down.

[whatSSup09: But seriously, a lot of people have left… It feels like the same few people are always commenting.]

[dogsmile: Honestly, I think this is better than the original. The original was too cliché anyway ㅋㅋㅋ Maybe people left because they were disappointed with the author.]

Cliché?

For fuck’s sake.

That “cliché” storyline held the top spot on a free serialization site for two months.

If it had just been published as-is…

As time passed, and the readers who once bashed PetitRolang slowly disappeared, the number of comments Roran saw dwindled to a trickle.

“No to obsession” was completely forgotten, lost to people’s indifference.

Seething with frustration, Roran slammed his desk repeatedly.

His neighbor yelled at him to keep it down, but he ignored it.

This novel, long reduced to a joke, hadn’t been edited, deleted, or remade, and yet Roran hadn’t let it go.

He had every reason to move on and work on a new project.

But he hadn’t.

He’d even visited a shaman.

Why was he still clinging to this novel?

It was because this was the only work that had ever drawn such attention to him as a writer.

He couldn’t let go when he imagined the profits he could’ve made if the novel had been published the way he’d written it.

So, he spent a fortune on that shaman… but the guy was a con artist.

The bastard wouldn’t even answer his calls now.

“Damn it. Damn it all!”

“For fuck’s sake, can you stop being so loud? Shut up already!”

The man next door, who’d been enduring the noise, banged on the wall.

Already furious, Roran felt his anger boil over.

Why did this neighbor have to start acting up too?

He felt like a volcano ready to explode, his mind bubbling over with rage.

Words built up in his throat, and his lips trembled.

“Hey, you motherf—!”

He was about to scream back and slam his fist into the wall when a jolt of electricity surged through his body.

His neck snapped back, and he clutched at the nape of his neck.

“Gah, ugh…!”

A sudden, splitting pain tore through his head.

Stumbling as he knocked over objects in the room, Roran finally collapsed to the floor.

The neighbor’s shouts, asking if he was breaking things again, grew faint.

Roran choked and gasped, and slowly, his eyes fluttered shut.

When he opened them again, what he saw was unbelievable.

[System: Welcome, Joo Roran. Congratulations on transmigrating in the world of “No to obsession.”]

[System: You have transmigrated as the author, PetitRolang.]

* * *