Summary
I’m the sort of chaos-loving bastard who does things just to see what happens. When I transmigrated into a disposable male side character in a sugary interstellar romance, the story was almost over.
The delicate, innocent-looking male lead’s admirers had teamed up to frame me for plagiarizing his work.
To nail me to the wall for good—and drum up publicity for him—they forced us into a live writing contest.
I got up to speed on the setting in record time.
Well. Time to introduce this world of happy endings to a little emotional devastation.
The StarNet readers I lured in for the slaughter:
[??? Is there any risk of surviving this?]
[Author, isn’t this getting a little too cheerful?]
[AAAAH, okay, I know you didn’t plagiarize! Can you PLEASE stop hurting us?]
[It’s like the author achieved enlightenment the moment he started killing people.]
[WHAT DO YOU GET OUT OF STABBING US IN THE HEART?]
[I’m coming down from the roof. No stairs. No elevator.]