Chapter 2: The Doubting Demon

#2

The very person who had been sending intermittent messages of encouragement and praise for Han Dokyeom’s novel during its month-long serialization was, in fact, secretly pilfering his world-building to fatten their own work.

Han Dokyeom immediately dispatched a lengthy message to the offending author. The reply, however, was an infuriating dismissal: “No, this is a cliché. Mr. Oom, I think you’re being too sensitive….”

‘Oom’ was Han Dokyeom’s pen name at the time. He conceded that such a response was to be expected, given his own novel was widely dismissed as a flop. Indeed, the mere absence of prior controversy suggested Han Dokyeom’s work inherently lacked popular appeal.

Thereafter, the other author promptly blocked all avenues of contact. This, Han Dokyeom surmised, was his definitive answer—or perhaps, merely a cowardly evasion.

The striking similarities between the novels only came to public light when one of Han Dokyeom’s most devoted readers meticulously detailed their suspicions in a lengthy community post.

To Han Dokyeom’s chagrin, the arrows of criticism ultimately struck both novels.

Readers of both works clashed fiercely, as if brandishing blades. Predictably, Han Dokyeom’s side, represented by a struggling author with scant popularity or recognition, mustered little offensive power. Consequently, he spent days enduring every conceivable insult, more vitriol than he’d ever heard in his life.

Determined to show some tenacity, Han Dokyeom repeatedly demanded a public statement from the rival author. Yet, the inevitable response always circled back to the same argument: the storylines differed, despite any superficial clichés.

Indeed, the rival’s serialized novel, ‘World of the Supporting Character,’ was a quintessential power harem story. Its cliché premise dictated that every character, upon merely glimpsing the protagonist—a supposed ‘supporting character’—would instantly become infatuated, pursuing them to the point of sacrificing their lives. This fervent devotion extended to both women and men, without exception.

Han Dokyeom’s novel, conversely, was a quintessential male-oriented fantasy, entirely devoid of romance. It was, moreover, a work widely lambasted as a flop, its narrative burdened by an author’s overzealous ambition to cram in an excessive number of convoluted settings.

Thus, even in a contest of mediocrity, the popular novel naturally commanded greater influence and a more devoted fanbase—the rival author’s work, of course. Through a campaign of obfuscation, the controversy was eventually diffused, provisionally dismissed with the single, convenient label of ‘cliché.’

Settings? Alright, one could concede that human minds often converge on similar ideas.

Supporting characters’ personalities? Given how human traits are categorized by blood type, MBTI, and various other typologies, he supposed that too could be overlooked.

But what, then, explained the identical protagonist? And how could the entire world-building be the same?

“I was showered with curses for cramming in every conceivable justification and bestowing absurd stats just to build that damn protagonist. And he simply copied it, exactly as it was?”

What kind of conscience did that man possess? Han Dokyeom, who had stubbornly written despite all the vitriol, might have been deemed mad, but the other author was truly brazen, possessing an unparalleled thick skin.

When such a brazen author abruptly ‘went silent,’ it transcended mere mockery, leaving Han Dokyeom with a peculiar, unsettled feeling. The timing, coinciding with his own novel’s gradual decline in popularity, only amplified the unease.

Then, one day, uploads for the rival novel, ‘World of the Supporting Character,’ simply ceased.

Given the author’s meticulous track record for consistency, readers erupted in a chorus of concern, betrayal, and outright fury.

Had he run out of material? Perhaps he’d started a new project, or maybe, some suggested, he’d felt the prick of conscience after his plagiarism. The speculation spiraled from mere accusations into a torrent of rumors, even delving into the author’s personal life.

Just as these rampant rumors swelled to a bursting point, the author uploaded a single-line chapter, then vanished entirely. It was a complete, abrupt hiatus. The comment section exploded with over a thousand indignant responses, a deluge of regret, betrayal, and scorn. And for good reason—

[I met God. And I… am following him to a world of salvation.]

‘Was he completely mad?’ Han Dokyeom thought, his skin crawling, goosebumps prickling his scalp with such intensity that all rational thought vanished. Only the comment section, a chaotic stream of endless debate, offered any solace. The novel, for all its contentious ‘firepower,’ possessed an undeniable ripple effect unmatched by any other. Yet, just as swiftly as it had ascended a precipitous peak, it plummeted into obscurity.

Ultimately, it had been a battle that left nothing but scars.

The real question, however, was what ancient grudge had caused him to be dragged into this place as well.

Furthermore, though he couldn’t be certain, the intricate settings and place names subtly diverged from the world Han Dokyeom had meticulously crafted in his own novel. This raised the unsettling possibility that *that bastard’s* world-building had somehow intermingled. Or, perhaps, he was trapped entirely within *that* novel.

“To claim I’m in that bastard’s novel, well, there’s also Han Dokyeom…”

It was an endless cascade of problems; the greatest irony was that, of all people, he had transmigrated into the supporting character, Han Dokyeom.

“No, what kind of ridiculous situation is this?!”

The thought ignited a fresh surge of fury, and Han Dokyeom abruptly pushed himself into a sitting position.

.

He was a character utterly devoid of presence or ability, merely a fleeting shadow in the readers’ minds. A supporting role, yet treated worse than a mere extra. Early in the story, he had entered a Gate, only to vanish without a trace, his very existence fading from memory at light speed.

As an E-rank Hunter, his financial standing was equally remarkable—so much so that he was three months behind on rent.

“Everyone else seems to transmigrate into chaebols with ease, so why am I stuck as a penniless wretch?”

After frantically scrubbing his face in a dry, angry gesture, Han Dokyeom finally registered the gnawing pangs of hunger. He sank back onto the blanket, defeated.

“That bastard must be here too… ha.”

No, he was undoubtedly here. Unluckily, there was even a high probability he’d arrived before Han Dokyeom. After all, Han Dokyeom had continued his own serialization for approximately two months following that bastard’s abrupt hiatus.

“He couldn’t possibly be occupying the body of some decent person, could he?”

‘…Surely not.’

It was then. As Han Dokyeom’s brow furrowed in deep thought, a translucent white window shimmered into existence before his eyes. The pitch-black letters etched within felt like the sharp beak of a crow, pecking at his very vision.

A profound well of hatred and disillusionment, for reasons unknown, surged up into his throat.

[‘Oriax,’ the demon of ‘Lemegeton,’ tilts its head, looking at you.]

His brain reeled as if struck, his vision tunneling. It felt as though a spectral gate had violently flung open. A chilling draft swept over him, carrying with it the undeniable stench of death.

Han Dokyeom murmured the words, a habit born of shock. “Demon… demon.”

‘Oriax,’ the demon of ‘Lemegeton.’ The fifty-ninth of the seventy-two Lemegeton demons bound by contract to Han Dokyeom.

These were the contractual beings, or Constellations, who formed pacts with Hunters to lend their formidable powers. They had first appeared five years prior, alongside the monstrous ‘Gates’ that had unleashed hordes of creatures upon the world.

This confirmed it. This world was unmistakably the setting of a novel Han Dokyeom knew intimately. It was the original tale, the genesis of all subsequent stories, and his very first published work.

He was trapped within the world of his own novel, ‘The Supporting Character’s Plight.’

****

The midday streets, awash in sunlight, were already hinting at the approach of summer.

Leaning back in a parasol chair outside the convenience store, he slowly blinked, finding an unexpected, profound peace.

Emerging after ten days, the world greeted him with a spring breeze so vibrant it almost made him sneeze. Through the dancing dandelion seeds that brushed his nose, he saw the familiar cityscape of Seoul.

Gates or not, the cityscape was virtually identical to the Seoul Han Dokyeom remembered. Pedestrians moved with an unnerving composure, even amidst news of disaster in the upper districts. No, it was more than composure; they were sickeningly accustomed to it, having endured such events for five long years.

The heart of Seoul, bustling with Hunters and plagued by bizarre, catastrophic ‘disasters,’ had long since morphed into a city that casually dismissed calamity, treating it with the nonchalance one might afford a stray dog.

Consequently, any emerging crisis was promptly relegated to the Hunters. It was the solemn duty of those affiliated with guilds and associations to sacrifice themselves, resolve conflicts, and protect the populace. Though, in reality, a significant number of Hunters still chose to operate independently.

Suddenly, an unbearable surge of saliva pooled in his mouth.

Han Dokyeom clicked his tongue in irritation.

His hollow stomach rumbled like distant thunder, again and again. For days, hunger had plagued him so severely that the world itself seemed to take on a sickly yellow hue. He had scoured that house for ten days, yet all he’d found were a few packets of instant ramen and some stale, expired bread.

Even those meager provisions had been consumed three days prior, forcing him into an involuntary fast ever since. If only that were his sole predicament.

“How on earth did this body manage to have not a single penny, leaving me to starve?”

‘Was he insane?’

He gazed at the sky, then the ground, then the distant mountains, but the agonizing pool of saliva in his mouth refused to subside. Even after tearing up the floor covering in that tiny house and searching, he hadn’t found a single coin, let alone a banknote.

The only bank account he’d managed to locate, after a trip to a nearby bank, revealed a balance barely enough to purchase a single ramen.

And to top it off, a certain demon had been glaring at him with suspicion since morning.

[‘Oriax,’ the demon of ‘Lemegeton,’ eyes you with suspicion.]

A growling, deeply distrustful voice echoed in his mind. Where had it been all this time? Its first words upon reappearing were suspicions about its own contractor. In short, the demon suspected that ‘Han Dokyeom’ was not acting ‘Han Dokyeom-like.’

“Ah, I’m telling you, I am Han Dokyeom.”

[‘Oriax,’ the demon of ‘Lemegeton,’ scrutinizes you with distrust.]

‘Do as you please.’

Annoyed, he abruptly turned his body. Just then, a large ‘Help Wanted’ sign plastered on the convenience store door caught his eye, as if by fate. Han Dokyeom immediately stood up and straightened his clothes. After tidying his hair, he cleared his throat and pushed open the glass door, stepping into the convenience store.