Free Web Novel* * *
Episode 5 of <ParCheHi> was released, riding on its rising popularity. Maybe it was because the last episode ended with such a perfect hook — as soon as it went public, subscribers rushed ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) to leave comments.
-I’ve been waiting just for this TT_TT come here every day T_T
-Ah my heart is shaking.... Starting today can I finally relax my toes? Is the cringe part over??
˪ Absolutely not. That’s literally why we watch it lol
The two characters stepped out of the storage room and headed to the rooftop. With dead-fish eyes, Chaewon tore open a Pepero and held it in her mouth. Then she handed one to Jun.
-I’m good. I’m not doing Pepero.
-Because of the forced romance? You can’t eat it?
-...How much do you know?
They talked calmly, like office workers chatting during a break.
-At first I thought it was a dream, too.
SFX: rustle—.
The sound of pages turning began Jun’s flashback scene.
It started the same as Chaewon’s — right in front of the school gate.
-What the heck?
Jun’s appearance was different from now. His voice was not the heavy, cynical tone he had now, but that of an ordinary, slightly cocky high schooler. Even so, his figure repeatedly flickered and faded.
-I just instinctively realized it. That I had to prove I existed here.
Unlike Chaewon, Jun said he had picked up on it instinctively — that at this rate, his existence might disappear completely.
Then in Jun’s field of vision appeared Hina. A close-up shot of Hina, radiantly overflowing with energy, filled the screen. The two ended up sitting next to each other.
-Um, hi. Let’s get along!
Sitting beside him, Hina tilted her head at that perfect “killer angle.”
Jun, automatically reacting to behavior far too affectionate for Korean sensibilities, turned his gaze toward the window. Ironically, it worked beautifully.
With a beautiful BGM, the curtain by the window swayed in overly slow motion. Flower effects sparkled around Jun.
-That’s when I knew.
-...So you picked the option with the best cost-effectiveness.
-Pretty much. The gentle-second-male-lead route has way too much work.
Jun let out a dry laugh. They talked like two modern adults sharing their hardships.
-You know way too much about shoujo manga.
-...I’ve watched a few.
-That’s not “a few,” is it?
-Drop it.
With Chaewon, Jun didn’t feel like a flat, two-dimensional shoujo protagonist. He behaved exactly as someone his age would.
Softly, the BGM started playing — <ParCheHi>’s main theme.
A lively, fluttery melody flowed, with bubble-pop sound effects as their conversation continued.
-How old are you?
-Seventeen.
-I’m seventeen too. This is like a seventeen-virus. A plague. Across society.
Through the conversation, Chaewon gathered some information. Jun had already been trapped in this world for over half a year.
In Jun’s world, cherry blossoms had been falling nonstop for six months.
-So that’s why you’re ranked first in the whole school?
-Yeah.... Time is frozen here. Half a year is basically one week.
Chaewon touched her forehead. Deep concern radiated from her.
-Then what about the college entrance exam. What if I go back, and I’m a high school senior, and it’s one week before the CSAT? That’s a straight one-way ticket to repeating the year.
-I have CSAT practice books. I’ll scan them for you.
-...How did you manage to bring something like that into this world?
-Don’t know. They were just in my bag.
Watching Episode 5, Aetami nodded to herself.
“Yeah. That’s a Korean high schooler.”
Every time the shoujo-style school system showed up, subscribers would leave comments like: “So what even is an escalator-style grade system...? We don’t have that. We have to grind through practice books....”
-Brutal;; Koreans even bring CSAT books when they enter a shoujo universe
-Yeah... I’m not the only one worried about the exam....
Chaewon picked up the last Pepero and finished calculating.
-Then we just need to speed up time.
It was a simple solution.
-We’ll cram in every possible event and fast-forward the timeline.
-...What are you talking about.
-You help too. fɾēewebnσveℓ.com
With the same emotionless eyes, Chaewon stared at Jun. Jun reluctantly nodded.
And the next day, Chaewon didn’t act like a cost-effective heroine — she became a full-service heroine. She didn’t settle for ending the role with a half-hearted sticky note.
When lunchtime came, Chaewon carried two lunchboxes and headed to the rooftop. Just like always, she approached Jun on top of the container.
-What are you doing up here?
-...How did you climb up?
-With brute force. Pure willpower. Give me a hand.
Chaewon smiled from the ladder. Jun grabbed her arm and pulled her up onto the container.
-Wow. So this is the world as you see it, Jun. It’s so wide. No wonder you like rooftops?
Chaewon said it in a voice completely devoid of sincerity. She opened the lunchbox.
A lunchbox that should have looked cute and colorful looked... tragic.
-...You want me to eat this...?
-If you won’t eat it, I have to throw it off from here. Option 1: endure it and eat. Option 2: throw this trash away and walk off dramatically. The story will go one of the two ways.
-I’ll eat it....
Jun silently ate the lunchbox. His face looked deeply pained, but Chaewon wasn’t done with the events yet.
-Here, the answer to this problem is....
-Teacher!
She suddenly raised her hand in the middle of class.
-Which period was our cookie-baking class again?
-Huh...?
-You mentioned it last week — the class where we get into groups and bake cookies.
Chaewon started rewriting the plot however she pleased. She was determined to clear every shoujo cliché in one sweep.
A sticky note appeared next to Chaewon.
[Spring Clichés of a Shoujo Manga]
-New semester. First meeting in front of closed school gate
-Eating lunch together on the rooftop
-Discovering the male lead taking care of a cat on a rainy day
-Cookie-baking class
-Studying for exams together
-Amusement park haunted house
A countless list of clichés popped up. With her dead-fish eyes, Chaewon opened her mouth.
-I’m so. so. excited. Cookie. Baking.
The comments began rising faster than before. Aetami looked at them proudly.
“As expected. My instincts were right!”
Already over-immersed, Aetami jumped into the drama community thread and began posting live reactions. It was fun to anticipate the next episode together.
“A drama that’s actually worth praising... how long has it been....”
Aetami let her mind drift to past dramas.
-Hey, since our youngest joined, should we do the team dinner at Yus’s Dakgalbi?
Excessive PPL.
[️♨It keeps going off the rails but please please let the ending be good TheForestAtDusk Grill♨️️]
-??? So how exactly did the ending turn out like this??
-Should’ve bailed when the writer changed mid-season, damn it why did I force myself to keep watchingㅠㅠ insane
Messy finales where no foreshadowing was resolved.
[Started at 7.5%, ended early at 2.3%... a cliff-dive sharper than a roller coaster? (Broadcast Issue)]
A last-episode cliff betrayal. And other assorted miseries....
At some point, loving dramas had become stressful for Aetami. But here was a drama that made her laugh without thinking. As a lifelong drama nerd, this was happiness she hadn’t felt in ages.
“This is....”
As soon as Episode 5 ended, Aetami started taking screenshots.
“This is... something everyone needs to see!”
The final episode was close — next week. Aetami wanted to savor the explosion of dopamine in the ending even more intensely.
“With my drama-nerd life on the line... I’m going to promote this.”
In Aetami’s hands, <ParCheHi>’s episode began spreading across the internet.
* * *
“This is really good.”
He wasn’t a ten-million-view director, but he wasn’t a flop either. One of those directors whose name people didn’t know, but whose films people recognized. He spoke.
From the directing team to script adaptation, from adaptation to director — he’d been in the film industry for quite a while. He’d directed three films so far. His highest audience count: 3.6 million.
“This kid’s good.”
On Gong Mujin’s monitor — a director who relieved stress by watching videos — <ParCheHi> was playing.
JC ENM’s new experiment was already attracting heat inside the industry. And the spotlight was on Han Yeoreum.
“She’s doing everything herself, seriously.”
She had the talent to make overacting not overacted, and plain acting not plain.
Reading through the comments, Director Gong clicked on the script reading video in the sidebar.
“Han Yeoreum — somewhere around here.”
Dragging the scroll bar, he immediately reached Yeoreum’s line.
Her diction resonated without strain. Her breathing transitioned so smoothly it was hard to notice when she inhaled.
“If she were on stage... that voice would make every theater director drool.”
Yeoreum made him analyze. Constantly.
It was the affliction of directors — when you saw a raw gem, you wanted to polish it, cut it, and send it out into the world.
Director Gong looked at the scenario on his desk.
“No... Mujin. Don’t do it....”
It was the file he had saved as “final_REAL_realfinal_last_hwp.” It had arrived from the print shop less than half a day ago.
“No... I shouldn’t....”
But he wanted to revise it. Seeing Han Yeoreum running across an auditorium, her dead-fish eyes shining with heroine-like sparkles, sparked new episode ideas.
He wanted to insert that raw gem’s brilliance into his work.
“But the minor-role casting isn’t done yet, right?”
Gong Mujin clicked on a file in the folder.
[Law-Faster-Than_The_Final_REAL_realfinal_last_hwp]
A script for a ten-million-audience franchise film whose previous series had exploded in popularity.
And inside it... Yeoreum began to appear.
