Chapter 14: Possessed by Cliché, Part 1

Cliché.

It sounds fancy, but it’s just a French word for overused expressions or stereotypes.

Yet, clichés are everywhere in Korea. We love the familiar, and the familiar is often cliché.

Think about it: Korean phonetics, factoring in math, the periodic table in science, relative pronouns in English, classical music, light and shadow in art… every school subject has its clichés.

Even music: rap about money, ballads about breakups, sweet songs about love.

Clichés are everywhere. We roll our eyes and think, “Not this again,” but we accept them.

They’re on every test, in every assignment, and the most popular songs are full of them. Clichés are part of life.

So, what about clichés in popular media like webtoons and web novels? Tons.

If you asked me to name one, I’d say the isekai fantasy novel with a hero.

It’s everywhere these days. Any online fiction reader has seen it. You can try to avoid them, but they’re inescapable.

And we read them, even though they’re predictable. Because they’re entertaining. They’re what we want.

I’m one of those people. Your average unemployed guy.

Picture the dude in comfy clothes at the convenience store. Not that I’m old, but you get the idea.

My thing? I devour every isekai fantasy hero story I can find. I’m a bit obsessed.

Good, bad, or “trash-kai,” I read it all. And honestly, I usually find them decent.

The cliché plots and settings are fun, and the occasional subversion of expectations is a nice surprise.

But there’s one story I found infuriating.

The main character was a powerless guy in a party of women, including the cliché hero destined to defeat the Demon King. Usually, these weak protagonists turn out to be secretly overpowered.

Even if they’re genuinely useless, the story usually has a happy ending.

But this guy? Powerless until the very end, constantly insulted by his party members.

“Useless,” “weak,” “pathetic…” Years of verbal abuse so bad even a masochist would cringe. Worse than a bullied kid forced to buy lunch for his tormentors.

But he wasn’t a masochist.

He was the most normal one in the group. He was an easy target. Gentle face, shorter than everyone else in the party, light voice.

And his personality? Saintly, cowardly, insecure, and childishly naive.

Of course, he got angry and upset.

Every single day. But he stayed silent, enduring the abuse.

He was too afraid to speak up, worried about hurting their feelings.

He even tried to talk to them, but they ignored him.

Being constantly criticized, unable to defend yourself, especially by people you’re not close to… it can make you snap.

Well, I wouldn’t know. I’m the “you’re screwed, then I’m screwed” type, so I’ve never snapped.

But he endured it all. Saintly to a fault.

He had his reasons, though. All of them frustratingly naive.

First, he felt he owed them.

Years of traveling, camping, staying in cheap inns, constantly exhausted… it’s stressful.

And he knew he was powerless. He was grateful they accepted him, so he felt he had to endure the abuse.

…This is already giving me a headache, but I’ll continue.

Second, they weren’t always cruel.

They weren’t inherently bad people. Just normal people driven to the edge by years of stress, taking it out on him. But wasn’t he stressed too? They treated him like a tool.

Finally, the most valid reason: it wouldn’t last forever.

Once the Demon King was defeated, it would all be over. He held onto the hope of a happy ending.

There was something that happened that should have shattered that hope, but he was too exhausted to care.

They reached the Demon King.

Now, the cliché here is for the protagonist to leave the party after the final battle.

That would have been a satisfying ending.

The heroines didn’t actually hate him, and there were hints of romantic interest. Plenty of potential for a good story.

But this story was infuriatingly hopeless.

Defeating the Demon King? Leaving the party? Becoming a hero? Nope.

He died a pathetic death from the Demon King’s first attack.

It would have been more frustrating if he’d survived and stayed, but this ending? No closure, no catharsis.

And that was it. The end. Protagonist dead, Demon King’s fate unknown. Story over.

I was furious.

“What the f*ck is this? LOL. If I were that protagonist, I wouldn’t let it end like that.

Or is this some kind of twisted author fantasy?”

I got a reply almost instantly.

“You wouldn’t end it like this?”

What does that even mean?

Still fuming, I typed:

“H*ll no, I’d be too pissed to die like that. I’d come back and make them pay.”

“Then… could you do it for me?”

Huh?

“…? Uh, sure. Can I…?”

The author’s name was the same as the protagonist’s. Must be some weird roleplaying thing.

Their final reply:

“Thank you very much.”

They’re thanking me for criticizing their story? What a masochist.

…Or so I thought.

A giant magic circle appeared beneath me, and…

“Ah, sh*t.”

I was being… transported?

I became the protagonist of a transmigration cliché.

I’ve read so many of these stories, I should have seen it coming. I was too caught up in my anger.

Honestly, I’ve always fantasized about this, so it’s not so bad.

Anyway, I was pulled into another world.

And if this follows the cliché…

“You’ve finally awakened… Oh! Ahem. Such a strange sound to make upon waking.”

“Huh?!”

“Where…?”

“…Why are you staring, Allen? This isn’t the time to be spacing out.”

Allen…?

Wait, if I’m Allen, then the girl next to me is Angelina, and the three people fighting over there are Helena, Lilia, and Yerin.

Magic-obsessed Angelina, archery fanatic Helena, tank Lilia, hero Yerin.

…And pathetic Allen.

“Mage Angelina?”

“Yes. What is it, Allen? If you’re awake, get the mana potions. This is an emergency. I can never find anything in your messy bag.”

…

Haha.

“Hahaha…”

“…What’s so funny? You’ve gone mad after being resurrected? Just get the potions.”

Right. This world.

The world of the one story I hated.

I’ve been transmigrated into Allen.

He’s been revived after dying. Angelina’s annoyed at having to heal me. She probably used a basic healing spell, not expecting it to work.

So, in this cliché-deficient world, what am I going to do?

“…Allen, are you really okay?”

Ah, this is the first thing.

“…Mage Angelina!”

“Hmph?! Y-Yes? Go ahead…”

“F*ck you.”

I say it cheerfully, with a sweet smile, and give her a double-barreled bird.

I don’t know if it was the author who brought me here, but here we go.

I’m starting my new life in this world by breaking clichés.