Title: I Was Isekai'd With My Wife and Now She's the Final Boss of the Fandom Author: H. Behevras Genre: Comedy, Isekai, Music, Married Protagonist, Parody Tags: #FinalBossWife #MetalheadMC #BoybandHell #TrashIsekaiButActuallyGenius
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Chapter 39: "The Sweet Girl With Bob Cut Hair"
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Cliffside – Just Before Dusk
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The wind rolled across the cliffside, kicking up red dusk like embers from an unseen fire. Below, waves crashed in a steady rhythm. Somewhere far beneath, sea monsters coiled and shifted in the deep.
Raiko took a slow drag from a half-lit cigarette, his boots crunching the gravel as he stepped toward a figure sitting at the edge.
She was young—face half-hidden beneath her hoodie, eyes swollen from crying. He recognized her vaguely. One of those idols. Always smiling. Always exhausted.
He stopped a few feet away.
> "Hey. Don't mind me. Just a stranger passing by," Raiko said, voice low and lazy. "Did I bother you if I appreciate this beautiful view too?"
She didn't turn.
> "Do whatever you want. I don't care."
> "Good," he said, taking another drag. "Want a cigarette? I swear I didn't hex it. See? I'm smoking one too."
A pause. Then a dry voice:
> "Yeah… why not. Not bad for a last recreation."
He handed her one, lit it with his thumb. She took it without looking at him. They smoked in silence for a beat.
> "See?" he said. "Sometimes inhaling trash can feel this good."
She gave no reaction. Just stared into the horizon with those heavy, empty eyes.
> "You know," Raiko continued, "sometimes strangers are the best listeners. They don't judge you. Either because they don't care, or they're actually listening."
She gave a hollow laugh.
> "Talking won't solve anything, ahjusii… wait—I mean oppa… —or maybe Mister?"
> "Ahjusii is fine," Raiko replied with a smirk. "I'm an adult today."
There was a pause.
Then she whispered:
> "Nobody cares about me. I'm always wrong in their eyes. No matter what I do."
Raiko didn't reply.
So she kept going.
Little by little, words poured out like poison from a cracked bottle—haters, pressure, blackmail, betrayal, the isolation even in fame, how everyone around her treated her like a product. Her voice trembled, then cracked, until finally—
She broke down.
Head bowed. Shoulders shaking.
> "Why don't you talk?" she shouted through tears. "I thought you wanted to hear my story!"
Raiko looked at her, calmly.
> "I just did. I'm not just hearing. I'm listening."
> "Then why don't you judge me? Give advice like everyone else?!"
> "I'm a stranger. Don't take advice from strangers, kid."
She blinked through her tears, confused.
> "Besides…" Raiko muttered, flicking ash off his cigarette. "My own life's a mess. I'm not qualified to give advice."
She squinted at him now. Something about his face clicked.
> "Wait… I know you. You're an idol too, aren't you? Then you must know our struggle."
> "Not really," he shrugged. "My life's too chaotic to worry about stuff."
> "Oh, so you're one of those born-with-a-golden-spoon guys, huh?" she snapped. "You don't understand peasants like us."
Raiko didn't say a word.
She sneered.
> "Even if you fail, you don't starve, right? Your parents would say 'It's alright,' right? People wouldn't dare bully you 'cause of your money and status, right?"
Raiko sighed.
Then he unbuttoned his shirt.
She gasped.
His torso was a battlefield—faint knife scars, burn marks, jagged lines that told stories no music show ever aired.
> "No," he said quietly. "I grew up on the street. Meals and sleep were optional there."
Her voice softened.
> "But… how did you survive?"
> "I never tried to please everyone," he said. "I just kept walking. Got fired from a dozen jobs for opening my mouth about worker abuse. That's why I'm a mess."
> "But you're famous now. Don't they expect perfection from you too?"
> "Sure," he smirked. "I've got haters. But me and my wife dropkick the toxic ones. And I show management my version of perfect: metal."
> "…Metal?"
> "Loud, angry, liberating. The only therapy I can afford."
She laughed softly through her sniffles.
> "You're insane."
> "Mmm. Certified."
A long silence.
Then he added, voice lower:
> "Do whatever you want. Be hard. Be soft. Throw chairs at haters and management. Just remember this—there's always someone out there who'll be sad if you disappear. Even if you don't realize it. Don't disappoint the ones who love your music."
Her lips trembled. Tears spilled again.
> "But… but… my best friend Summer…" she sobbed. "She… she fed herself to the monsters… because of all the hate…"
Raiko looked at her.
> "Then don't disappoint her either. Only you can keep her memory alive."
She broke completely. Shoulders heaving, hands over her face.
Raiko stood quietly, letting the dusk fall like ashes between them.
Eventually, he looked toward the horizon.
> "Anyway, it's getting dark. My wife might think I sacrificed another mountain goat under this red sky or maybe pulling a heist like that legendary thief."
He turned to leave.
> "Wait," the girl choked out behind him while revealing her face. "Thank you… Oppa… No—ahjusii, right?"
Raiko see a glimpse of her cute face and bob cut hair.
Her hair was a 'sharp, chin-length bob', black as a heist-night sky, with 'blunt bangs' that framed eyes that could 'steal a man's will to live'.
He gave her a slow thumbs up without turning back.
> "Good job, kid."
She smiled, wiping her eyes as she waved with one hand—blushing without even knowing why.
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Cliffside Scene – After the Conversation
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The wind howled off the cliff edge, ruffling Raiko's hair. Below them, the waves smashed against rocks like a mosh pit in slow motion. The sky hadn't decided if it wanted to rain or not, while the red dusk started to turn black.
Noona comes out of her hiding, behind a big tree, arms folded, silent.
Raiko was the one who broke it.
> "So. You saw the whole thing?"
She didn't answer at first. Her gaze stayed fixed on the idol girl like she was trying to meditate the blush off her cheeks.
> "...You didn't even know who she was before this morning."
Raiko shrugged.
> "Didn't need to. I saw how broken she is."
She turned to him now, lips twitching.
> "You're such an idiot."
He smirked.
> "You're welcome."
> "Tch."
She looked away again, and for a long second, the only sound was the wind and waves.
Then she said quietly:
> "She looks and sounds exactly like my bias back on earth."
Raiko blinked.
> "Huh?"
Noona exhaled through her nose, then turned slightly so he could see the faintest trace of pink on her cheeks.
> "Back then… before we meet, when i was at middle school… before we were isekai'd or whatever… I used to watch her fancams. Secretly. Under the blanket with earphones. She danced like she didn't care what anyone thought."
Raiko grinned slowly.
> "You. The Queen of Flaming Deathkicks. Had a bias."
> "Don't push it."
He raised his hands in mock surrender.
> "Not judging. I just didn't know your tsundere-ness extended to K-pop stanning."
> "Shut up."
They stood in silence again. This time, it wasn't awkward.
Then Noona stepped closer and softly said:
> "Thank you, Raiko. I'm sure her earth twin's soul are smiling if she knew you do this"
His grin faded into something gentler.
> "You don't have to—"
> "I do."
She looked up at him, voice steady now.
> "You stood up for her. For someone you didn't know. Just because you saw something breaking. That's why I…"
She hesitated.
Then she tiptoed and kissed his cheek.
Soft. Quick. Gone in an instant—but it froze Raiko in place like he'd been crit-locked by Cupid himself.
> "This is why I fall for you, dumbass."
She leaned into his arm now, clinging loosely like a girl who didn't want to admit how much she needed him.
Raiko looked down at her and, for once, didn't joke.
> "I love you too."
And for a long, long moment, they just stood there—on a windy cliff above a wild ocean, two idiots who somehow made sense in a broken world.
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TO BE CONTINUED
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- AUTHOR'S NOTE –
FROM THE BACKSTAGE PIT
So, this chapter got written after I did what no metalhead should do:
I fell into the K-pop rabbit hole.
At first, it was just "research." Then I got curious. Then I had a favorite.
And then—BAM—life hit me with a brick made of industry truths and tragic headlines.
(Yeah. You know the ones. No spoilers, but… that one girl. Still hurts.)
I didn't cry. I just—
tunes guitar
—got mad and wrote this chapter like a cathartic moshpit in novel form.
Call it a mix of sympathy, salt, and stage light fury.
Don't worry, we're still laughing like gremlins.
But this is me tossing a mic at the machine… with sparkles, side-eye, and subtle steel-toe boots.
Enjoy the chaos.
The beat drops next.
— H. Behevras
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© 2025 H. Behevras | First published on Royal Road
Do not repost without permission.
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