Chapter 23

Reader III

“Too good of an environment?”

What was wrong with that?

“Hah. I think you’ve got some fantasies about what it means to be a writer. Writers are laborers, plain and simple. They write to earn money and gain attention.”

Oh Dok-seo, the self-proclaimed web novel expert, said this. As mentioned earlier, we'll delve deeper into who this Oh Dok-seo is at another time.

For now, it’s enough to know that Oh Dok-seo was a nerd fashion trendsetter, always sporting a red bob haircut, a cap, a band-aid on her nose, and her favorite hoodie.

“Just making sure, you're not using telepathy right now?”

“I’ve turned it off.”

“Good. Now, have you ever seen a construction worker swinging a hammer purely for self-fulfillment? Someone who says, ‘I love unloading crates so much that I want to do it for the rest of my life’?”

“Well... not often.”

“That’s exactly it.”

Oh Dok-seo chewed her gum, blowing a bubble.

By the way, it wasn’t bubble gum, just regular chewing gum. Of course, it didn’t inflate properly, making a faint, hissing noise before bursting and sticking to her lips.

She wiped her mouth nonchalantly, fully embodying her nerd fashionista, edgy, middle-schooler persona.

“Remember, writing comes from a place of scarcity.”

Oh Dok-seo’s expression was serious.

Or rather, she was deadly serious.

I don’t usually use that phrase, but in this case, it was warranted. If I didn’t use ‘deadly’ to describe Oh Dok-seo’s face, it would be disrespecting the word’s very existence.

“Why give them an allowance? Take it away. Throw them into the depths of despair. Make them watch people being slaughtered by monsters. You’re strong, right? You can do it, so why aren’t you?”

“Hmm...”

“Just don’t kill them. Oh, and keep their hands and backs intact. You just need to make sure they're not crippled. Writers actually produce better work when exploited.”

Oh Dok-seo spoke with the confidence of someone who believed truth should serve them, not the other way around.

“Weren’t they all doomed to die if not for you? So, if they stay alive, you’ve done your job, haven’t you?”

Is that so? Is it really?

‘That makes sense.’

It was worth testing.

Assuming the failure of the Canned Hotel in the 560th cycle, I trained the writers according to Oh Dok-seo’s advice in the next cycle.

Instead of heaven, I gave them a taste of a milder hell.

“Kyaaaah!”

“Somebody help! Help me!”

I took the writers for a little walk beyond their accommodations.

-Honkkk! Beep!

-Honk! Honk! Honk!

-Honnkkkkk! Beep Beep!

The Isekai Trucks exceeded a thousand.

Not only the parking lot but the road leading to the accommodations was packed with 11-ton trucks, replicating the traffic jams of Chuseok holidays. Trucks collided, overturned, and crashed as they pursued the writers in a surreal scene.

And that wasn’t all.

“Ugh, it’s cold...”

“I’m hungry... I want yukgaejang...”

“Moooom...”

The environment had changed too.

Instead of a luxury hotel, I set up a shabby refugee camp for the writers. No chef fairies cooking gourmet meals. No casino dealer fairies. None of that.

Even the equipment provided was cheap.

Watching the writers sit on the dirt floor, staring blankly at the ceiling or crying their eyes out, pained me. But shock therapy exists for a reason.

I spoke.

“Ah, mic check. Writers, from now on, you’ll be living in this village. I will try to protect you from most dangers, but I can’t guarantee your safety. The harder you write, and the more entertaining your stories are, the more resources you’ll have.”

“......”

“I love you, writers. I wish you the best.”

And something miraculous happened.

This extreme treatment actually worked!

The writers were driven to write as if possessed. Out of 335, not one was idle.

Their writing speed was incomparable to the last cycle!

I couldn’t help but be moved.

“These are true writers, and this is how much they should write.”

Looking at the pile of manuscripts brought a smile to my face.

But as I eagerly flipped through the pages――

“...Hmm?”

Something felt off.

Like a dog startled by unfamiliar food, I instinctively paused while holding the manuscript.

“Why... why does this taste spoiled?”

It was different.

The flavor of the writing had changed.

The comment section exploded.

-Anonymous: ?? Is that for real?

-Anonymous: Who gave points to buy that guy’s novel? Idiots?

-LiteraryGirl: GoryeoJang actually writes pretty well... He was a web novel otaku before the gates opened, and there aren’t many who write like him.

-Anonymous: What’s that psycho’s novel about?

└LiteraryGirl: An incredibly kind protagonist uses their healing ability to help those in need and eventually saves a small kingdom in a tribute to humanity. A rare type of protagonist these days. I cried at the scene where they almost get hunted as a witch but still treat the inquisitors, saying, ‘A doctor doesn’t choose their patients.’

└Anonymous: ?

└[Samcheon] Lieutenant: ?

-Anonymous: Fuck, are these items real? As expected of SG Net. It’s on a different level with the Constellations directly managing it.

-dolLHoUse: hypeeee

-[Yuldoguk] SwordMarquess: Why doesn’t anyone read my prose?

The message was a shock, but so was the messenger, a notorious SG Net troll. Members’ responses grew heated.

That certification post marked the beginning of the “Great Serial Age” on SG Net.

Some people who had awakened started serializing their novels directly. Guilds also began hiring skilled authors and uploading their work on their behalf.

In a world that had collapsed, the once-useless writer profession became a kind of support member.

-The Protagonist Doesn’t Return from the Volcano (★9.9)

-Her Circumstances That Made Her a Count’s Munchkin (★9.9)

-Comedy Club [19+ Uncensored Edition] (★9.9)

-The Apartment Hides Reinforced Steel (★5.7)

Unsurprisingly, the serialized works on SG Net showcased a level of quality unmatched by the 560th and 561st cycles.

The despair and emotions that writers experienced during the apocalypse added depth to their work while maintaining the fun of web novels.

“What’s the difference? What do you think?”

After hearing about my journey since the 560th cycle, Oh Dok-seo asked.

I poured her an espresso since that’s all she drinks.

“The number of readers. And competition.”

“Hmm? What are you talking about?”

“Most writers are attention-seekers. As you said, they’re lacking something. But that emptiness isn’t filled by experience. Only by others’ attention, love, and passion.”

Because what they lack isn’t themselves but others. Writers have too much of themselves in their hearts.

“That’s why they need as many others as possible, like celebrities. Like Roman gladiators in the coliseum.”

“Hmm.”

“But that’s secondary. The real key is competition among writers.”

I logged into SG Net's novel serialization board and pulled up the novel rankings.

Displayed prominently, the ranking section showcased the most popular novels, listed from first place down.

“Endless competition among writers, judged solely by purchase numbers. It’s pure meritocracy. Writers can’t help but be drawn to the radiant mirage of ‘proving their worth through pure writing skill,’ like the bright lights of New York’s skyscrapers.”

It reminded me of ancient Greek tragedy writers.

They held contests and ranked each other. Crowds gathered to follow the writers’ works in real-time, cheering them on. Athens was the world's leading city, dominating the Mediterranean world. Winning the crowd’s favor meant being recognized as the world’s best writer.

Competition, enthusiasm, and a certificate proclaiming you the best in the world.

That system let Greek tragedies burn brightly, if briefly.

It’s no wonder Nietzsche described competition as the essence of the Greek people.

“This is our—humanity’s last Dionysian theater.”

But I was a consummate glutton. While I enjoyed popular works that appealed to the masses, I also devoured niche genres that appealed to only a few yet satisfied their creators' desires.

Before and after the world began collapsing, these works often went unnoticed.

I scrolled down the rankings and clicked on a particular novel.

-Title: 101 Ways She Accepts Death (★7.7)

-Pen name: BadEndingLover

A writer who always pursued the niche.

After reading the latest chapter, I pressed the [Support Author] button.

-Donated 2,000 points.

-ZERO_SUGAR: Your writing is always... wonderful ^^. I thoroughly enjoyed this chapter. Please watch out for trucks~

Hmm.

Something seemed missing, so I tilted my head.

“Oh.”

That’s right. I forgot to write this.

-ZERO_SUGAR: But there’s a spelling error. The correct expression is ‘An incident occured’ not ‘An insident occured’ This is the third time you’ve made this mistake in this work. Are you the type who doesn’t run a spell checker~? lol. Best wishes, and stay healthy. Write well ^^

I nodded.

Still a perfect donation message.

Though this whole ridiculous act proved unexpectedly useful later on.

-Honnkkkk!

But that’s a story for another day.

Right now, I had to deal with the Isekai Truck parked in front of my place.

Footnotes:

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