Chapter 1. Rebirth into a troublesome villain!

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Shenn threw the phone aside and was about to spit venom because of the ending of the story he had just finished reading! And it ended with... NOTHING! It wasn't even "and then they lived happily ever after"! It just broke off when the main character rounded up his score in conquering young hearts and "taking innocent flowers", leaving his personal best score at one thousand. Tell me, is it because he wasn't loved enough in his childhood?.. Considering that the arc about the thousandth victim of the protagonist's ardent passion and fiery charisma did not stand out with anything remarkable, the story could have just as well continued till the second thousand.

Bother! And that's all we got after patiently spending our lives on 765 chapters?? The words almost loomed in front of his eyes: "Second season is coming". Such scribbling could be stretched over three lifespans! Shenn wouldn't have been so offended if he had regarded this web novel as something mediocre from the beginning. But the beginning, contrary to the expectations of a reader used to difficulties, seemed extremely intriguing and well-written. However, the further the lower the author's writing skill slipped, as if he had been degenerating while writing the chapters... and stopped at the level of a teenager who never reads anything longer than posts on social networks and who receives terrible marks at school! Complete disappointment!

In fact, Shenn wasn't one to enjoy "live communication" on the Internet, preferring to remain a silent consumer, but this novel had angered him so much that he could not resist and wrote a long comment, completely sorting out all the flaws and faults of the plot (criticism had always been his strong point). The amount of likes that comment got and the number of other readers supporting it at least gave Shenn hope that society had not completely degenerated. However, the unreasonable number of hits "The Great Mad One" got and it taking the first place in the top were still annoying! Had this novel been crap from the very beginning, he would not have been so furious now!

Getting this worked up over someone else's writing in his thirties might have seemed strange to Shenn had he thought about it. But he didn't feel that he was doing something wrong at all.

A sharp flash of pain pierced his consciousness so abruptly that the man himself did not understand whether he fell because of it, bent over or froze without moving. Blackness surrounded him, as if he was in a locked room without a single source of light. Then the pain disappeared which could be welcomed but for some reason inspired even greater fears instead. He was already beginning to think if it was a stroke and what could be done as a sudden wave of awareness of reality hit him.

Firstly, he saw snow-white hands with long graceful fingers, pressing hard against the red floor. He flinched, and his hands flinched too, making him realize that he was looking at his own hands. Flowing dark hair obscured his peripheral vision. Okay, hands he could still accept, they could look strange in certain lighting... But he absolutely didn't have long hair!

Shenn wanted to get up abruptly, but his chest and stomach twisted in pain, and instead of straightening up, he collapsed onto the cold red floor.

Some background sound kept him on the alert. As if something was moving, cracking and making a quiet monotonous noise...

The pain gradually subsided, and Shenn was able to turn slightly and assess the situation. The red floor was crossed by rows of black symbols, and a few meters away from him the darkness spread out. Something was reaching for him, twisting its numerous shadow tentacles. The dark haze was well illuminated from behind and from below, it was creeping out the crevice, from which came the yellow light and the very same monotonous crackling sounds. Shenn was still in so much pain that he looked quite detached at what was happening, without any panic. And why should he panic if something completely unimaginable was happening around.

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