In a dimly lit room, the only light came from the pale glow of a computer screen, and the only sound was the frantic tapping of keys. The hour was well past midnight, yet the world outside was quiet—too quiet—while inside, the storm of one teenager's fury raged on.
Kael sat hunched over his desk, his gaunt face illuminated in ghostly blue. His bloodshot eyes were fixed on the monitor, veins visible against his pale skin after hours of binge-reading without proper rest. A half-empty cup of instant noodles sat forgotten beside him, its broth cold and untouched, while empty energy drink cans littered the floor like the battlefield of a war he had long lost against sleep.
His fingers moved in a blur, hammering the keyboard with the kind of rage only a betrayed fan could muster. He wasn't just typing, he was exorcising fury, grief, and disappointment all at once.
"Damn it, author! Why did you have to ruin such a beautiful novel with such a trash ending?" he wrote, jaw clenched tight. "Are we seriously supposed to believe the Demon King just regrew his head after being decapitated by a demon-killing holy sword? That's literally the only weapon designed to kill him, and you turned it into a useless prop! And don't even get me started on the Hero—how in the seven flaming layers of hell does someone at the same rank get one-shotted like a disposable side character?! It makes no sense! This ending is worse than a filler beach episode in the middle of a war arc!"
Kael paused, his breathing ragged, before adding with a reluctant sigh, "Still… I can't deny it—it's one of the best fantasy action stories I've read so far." ⭐ ⭐ ⭐
The moment he clicked post, Kael slumped back into his chair, chest heaving as though he had just finished running a marathon. He stared at the glowing screen in silence, his rant immortalized in the public review section for all to see. The anger that had fueled him finally bled away, leaving behind only fatigue.
"I'll admit… that was one heck of a novel," he murmured, rubbing his sore eyes. "If only the ending had been better."
He remembered how it all started: scrolling through the new releases page, spotting Awakening of the Sword God. Just another fantasy novel at first glance, yet something about it had pulled him in. Each chapter had gripped him tighter until sleep was no longer an option. Characters became companions, battles felt real, and for a brief time, Kael had lived in that world.
And then came the finale—the betrayal that shattered everything.
Yawning, Kael pushed his chair back. "Well, I'd better go to bed before the warden starts his midnight checks," he muttered, meaning his mother, who was notorious for barging into his room if she suspected he was awake.
He reached for the power button, but a sudden ping stopped him. A new notification blinked in the corner of the screen.
"Huh?" Kael leaned forward, squinting. It was a message in his inbox from the author himself. His eyebrows shot up.
"What the hell does this bastard want now?" Kael muttered, curiosity tinged with annoyance. He clicked it open.
The message was short. Cold. Almost threatening.
"Three stars?! You bastard. I'll make you regret this."
Kael blinked, then snorted. "Seriously? That's what he's mad about? What a clown." Shaking his head, he clicked block user, then shut down his PC with finality.
He staggered over to his bed, collapsing onto it like a soldier retreating from battle. Pulling the blanket over himself, he let out one last sigh. "Tomorrow's another day of class. Better rest up…"
The room grew quiet again, swallowed by the darkness. For a moment, everything was still.
Then came a sound.
A faint creak.
Kael frowned, half-asleep, his ears catching the noise. The ceiling fan above him swayed ever so slightly, its rotation uneven, the screws holding it in place groaning with each turn.
He opened his eyes groggily, staring at the fan's shadow stretching across his ceiling. "Huh…? When did it start… making that noise?" he mumbled.
But sleep was stronger than curiosity. His eyelids grew heavy, dragging him back toward unconsciousness.
The creaking grew louder. Louder. Until—
With a violent snap, the ceiling fan tore free from its hinges.
For one split second, Kael's eyes shot open, his body frozen in pure instinctive terror.
And then—
CRASH.
The blades slammed down with brutal force, and the room was swallowed in silence once more.
The only light, still glowing faintly from the monitor across the room, flickered against the lifeless body sprawled beneath the broken fan.
Somewhere, in the darkness of the digital void, a certain author smiled and started to laugh menacingly.