I Became The Leader Of A Revolution In A Romance Fantasy

< Chapter 1: Are you listening? The song of the enraged people! >

“Damn.”

I had possessed the male lead in a romance fantasy novel.

I had never cursed in the comments, nor had I ever finished reading a novel that no one else was reading. This was unfair.

Don’t get me wrong. I had no regrets about becoming a romance fantasy male lead.

Fundamentally, romance fantasy male leads are ultra-alpha males with a full set of abilities and looks.

For Kim Yujin, a web novel editor with no family, becoming a romance fantasy male lead was something to cry and bow in gratitude for, not something to curse about.

Yet, as soon as I understood the situation, the word “damn” burst out of my mouth for a very damn good reason.

It was because of the timing within the story when I possessed the character.

Crash!

Boom!

The sound of the city going to hell.

Outside the window, the sounds of explosions and shattering were endless.

Raging flames filled the city streets, and I saw nobles being dragged out and brutally murdered in the streets.

“This is seriously fucked.”

It was the climax of the first part.

The very next day after the female lead and the male lead, who had been endlessly flirting, finally succeeded in holding hands for the first time.

The morning of the revolution had finally begun.

I had possessed a character right in the midst of that chaos.

‘Eugene Hastings, Count. The first sword of the Royal Guards, who protects the royal family, and a war hero who achieved military merit at a young age.’

And the male lead in the novel 『The Beast of Thermidor』 that I was in charge of.

As is the case with 99% of romance fantasy male leads, Eugene Hastings was also a high-ranking noble. You could tell just by the title of Count, right?

But that noble status wasn’t particularly helpful right now. It meant he easily ranked in the top 100 people the revolutionaries wanted to impale with their spears.

Sure enough.

When I finally managed to get over the shock of possession and my thoughts moved from “damn” to “what should I do?”

“Eugene Hastings!”

“Servant of the royal family!”

“Come out! Come out and face the people’s judgment!”

The mob had arrived.

The violence of the people, armed with spears and guns, had invaded the villa.

If I were still Kim Yujin the editor, I would have immediately had my head cracked open by their clubs, and the collar of my expensive shirt would have been soaked with blood.

Thump.

But instead, the wild nature of Eugene Hastings, described in the story as having a ‘black heart,’ awakened.

In female-oriented web novels, the male lead has a 95% chance of being strong.
(For reference, in male-oriented novels, this probability rises to 99.99%.)

A chaebol third-generation heir doing military service in a special forces unit and being an amateur boxing champion during his student days?

Thanks to the laws of this web novel, ‘Eugene Hastings’ was ridiculously strong.

His body reacted to the sense of danger like a machine. It was as if he had switched to an automatic hunting mode.

I weaved between the weapons. Then, I unleashed a storm of rapid punches to the enemies’ noses and jawbones.

“Ugh!”

“Ack!”

“Kyaaah!”

In the blink of an eye, the situation was over.

I had knocked down ten armed ‘revolutionary soldiers’ bare-handed in an instant.

Blink.

“…Wow.”

When I closed and opened my eyes, the surroundings were filled with people groaning with broken bones.

In this low-powered fantasy setting, without Heavenly Demon Divine Arts or Aura Blade, it was clear that the omnipotent protagonist correction was with me.

‘Should I just knock them all down and run?’

That thought crossed my mind.

Even with a rough count, about ten times more people than I had just knocked down were pouring into the villa.

Through the wide-open door, my eyes met theirs.

‘Ah, shit.’

I should have closed the door first.

“There he is!”

“That far-right reactionary bastard killed our comrades!”

I reflexively checked the fallen people. They were all groaning but alive.

I didn’t kill them!

But it was obvious that this wasn’t the time to try and persuade them.

‘What should I do?’

I recalled the contents of part two.

The concept our writer had thrust upon me.

So, first of all, the novel I was possessed in.

『Beast of Thermidor』.

From the title alone, it was clearly not a romance fantasy to be serialized on Ka** Cafe, but a novel that should be immediately sent to Ri**.

But surprisingly, this was serialized on Ka** Cafe, not Ri**.

Before the serialization started, I staked my editor career and vehemently objected.

‘Writer, this isn’t it.’

‘This title is outdated even by the standards of ten years ago.’

‘The readers of Ka** Cafe these days won’t read this!’

‘No way, this is even a grimdark novel?! Except for Ri**, grimdark is dead! For the past few years, the MZ readers have only been reading novels where the cutesy baby protagonist gets endlessly pampered by flower boy fathers and brothers who are practically the second male lead!’

I think I explained it a bit more politely than this, but the writer didn’t listen.

Amazingly, not a single word got through.

She said she liked Ka** Cafe.

I warned her to the very end that if the platform’s audience didn’t align with the content, the earnings would be destroyed, but this crazy writer’s eyes darkened, and with a gem of a phrase, she sank me completely.

“So what?”

…Doesn’t that give you an uncanny sense of ‘gonzo’?

She had a strong will to ignore the readership and just write what she wanted, where she wanted, telling readers to take it or leave it.

Of course, the writer was originally the epitome of gonzo.

To be dissatisfied with the writings available to the public and to serialize over a hundred episodes of 6,000 to 7,000 characters each of her delusions requires a near-insane mental state.

But still.

I didn’t expect the plan for part two she brought after concluding part one ‘like that.’

“…What? The female lead loses her sight?”

“Yes!”

The writer nodded, smiling like a puppy. Seeing her smile as if to say, ‘Didn’t I do well?!’ made my stomach churn.

“Do you remember how part one ended?”

“Of course. The protagonists only confirmed their feelings for each other after 200 episodes of flirting, held hands briefly, and then parted ways in the first part.”

“Hahaha, PD-nim, you’re so conventional.”

“…Me?”

“If you summarize the story like that, it sounds like the novel is only about the protagonists’ romance and nothing else.”

“…Isn’t it?”

Aren’t you writing a romance fantasy?

“At the conclusion of part one, the revolutionary buildup we’ve been carefully building since the prologue finally exploded, right?”

“The comment section exploded too.”

The dawn of the revolution.

The male lead, Eugene Hastings, raced through the burning capital.

Though he was the kingdom’s greatest swordsman, a superhuman born with an ancient, untamable wildness.

Even he couldn’t break through the era of guns and bombs with mere martial prowess.

During his escape from the enraged crowd,

He witnessed the first part’s characters being dragged out into the streets and meeting horrific ends simply because they were nobles.

His family was among them.

Yet, swallowing his tears of blood, he headed to the palace solely to save the princess.

‘That’s where she ended it with the palace explosion.’

As if she were Michael Bay.

The comment section went up in flames, reaching nuclear ending levels.

As I nostalgically recalled that mess with a wistful look, the writer abruptly cut in.

“Honestly, isn’t it strange to think that despite such a massive explosion, the protagonists wouldn’t be hurt at all?”

“I find it stranger to end the first part of a romance fantasy with the main couple’s fates unknown.”

“Hahaha, there you go again!”

It was true.

Anyway, let’s hear it.

“So the female lead goes blind? Because of the explosion?”

“Yes!”

“Hahaha, I see. Hahaha.”

I held onto my shaking mental state.

“Then, the story of treating the female lead’s eyes will begin in part two, right?”

“?”

“?”

Damn it, please don’t make that expression as if you don’t understand what I’m saying.

“She’s going to… be treated, right?”

The author smirked.

Then they started rambling about their ‘awesome’ plan for part two, and if it proceeded as they said, part two would be remembered in the history of KakaXpage as an abyss of bitterness, no, as a radioactive romance fantasy.

Summarized from the female lead’s perspective:

1. The revolutionary army was not satisfied with just abolishing the monarchy. The entire royal family was dragged to the square and executed.

2. The female lead, blinded, couldn’t recognize the corpses of her family hanging wretchedly in the streets, while the male lead swallowed tears of blood.

3. Their life on the run began. Everyone who helped them was branded as extreme reactionaries, enemies of the revolution, and met a gruesome end.

4. To protect the female lead, the male lead endured all the pain and trials alone, becoming increasingly devastated until he suffered severe injuries, losing an arm and an ear.

5. The female lead, unable to see, and the male lead, unable to hear, were together yet isolated, unable to console each other, each sinking into endless despair.

6. The transient revolutionaries succeeded in dismantling the system but failed to establish their own. Eventually, chaos ensued, with executions and assassinations rampant as they called each other enemies of the revolution, plunging the nation into political terror.

‘Damn it.’

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Now was the moment for a decisive resolution to save the country.

“This won’t do.”

“!”

“I don’t care if sales plummet, but if you go this way, author, you’ll have to change your pen name! You won’t be able to write your next work!”

All I did was speak the truth, but the author’s previously cheerful face turned chillingly grim, their eyes flashing with a bizarre, abyssal light.

It was the same look from the legendary meeting at our company, the one that said, ‘So what?’

“So what?”

That was the last I remembered of editor Kim Yujin.

…I should have realized it from the weird black magic posts they retweeted on TXXXter.

* * *

I awoke from the long recollection.

My back was drenched in cold sweat.

‘Damn it.’

It was bad enough just hearing the synopsis, but now it had become my reality?

If that’s the case, even more so.

I absolutely cannot let that happen!

What I can do here is…

‘This is the only way!’

I charged toward the revolutionary army.

“Wh-what?!”

“Don’t panic! He’s unarmed! Unarmed! Damn it, just because he’s a noble doesn’t mean he won’t die!”

Then, at their hesitant feet, preparing for a confrontation, I threw myself entirely.

“Long live the revolution!!!”

“?”

No matter how much this was an era of guns and bombs, the legendary feat of Eugene Hastings, who charged alone armed only with a sword and a pistol to slaughter enemies, was well-known.

So, Eugene Hastings was both a ‘target for elimination’ and a ‘figure of terror.’ Such a person suddenly shouting “Long live the revolution” took them by surprise.

‘I’ve got their attention!’

Without pausing, I used all my might to move my tongue.

“The revolution is blameless! The rebellion has its reasons! Question everything! Overthrow everything!”

Where did I hear this from?

It was probably from some Chinese romance novel.

Anyway, I thanked the myriad ‘inputs’ from various authors and praised the revolution with whatever came to mind.

My ideological fervor was so intense that even the crowd, who had come to capture me, hesitated.

“Uh, is that… so…?”

This was my chance.

I ran outside immediately.

The crowd belatedly shouted, “That reactionary bastard is escaping!” and brandished spears and aimed guns, but with my superhuman physical abilities, they couldn’t catch me.

However, I didn’t plan to run away completely.

I climbed atop a collapsed barricade.

And with the burning capital as my backdrop, I squeezed out my courage and began to sing.

At first, the crowd, filled with murderous intent, gathered around me, a well-known high noble and assassination target, but then…

“Do you hear the people sing? Singing the song of angry men? It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again!”

The power in the song, refined with a 21st-century melody, began to touch hearts one by one.

But damn it, what were the lyrics after this?

Desperately, I wracked my brain and started attaching anything I could remember.

“Arise, those who do not want to be slaves! Arise, oppressed people! Arise! Arise!”

One by one.

People began to lay down their weapons and gather in front of me.

‘…This feels like it’s getting out of hand.’

Just then, a stone came flying at me.

It was moving at a speed I could easily dodge.

‘Don’t dodge!’

But it wasn’t a rational decision; it was more of an instinctive political sense whispering to me.

Thwack!

My head split open and blood started flowing.

There was a collective gasp from the crowd. All eyes turned towards the man who threw the stone.

Despite being shrunk under the barrage of criticism from all sides, the man gathered his revolutionary fervor and shouted,

“Wh-what’s a reactionary bastard like him talking about the revolution and the people for? He’s a noble!”

It hurt because it was true.

Before people could agree with him, I howled,

“That’s right!!!”

With the superhuman strength that had slaughtered enemies alone, my shout resonated through the revolution-torn capital.

I cried out, as if coughing up blood,

“I, too, am part of the vested interests that ruined this country! And I enjoyed all the privileges without knowing anything! My very birth is my original sin!”

“Uh…”

Even the man who threw the stone was momentarily stunned by my bold confession, as if saying, ‘Yep, I’m that bastard.’

Seizing the moment, I knelt on the barricade.

I grabbed a nearby plank, scribbling large letters with my flowing blood.

Then I roughly hung it around my neck like a signboard.

– I am a corrupt member of the vested interests. I will face the judgment of the people.

But the murmurs of discontent from below the barricade made my head spin.

“What does it say?”

“Is he showing off that he can write?”

‘Oh crap! I forgot to account for the literacy rate here.’

How high is the illiteracy rate in this damned country?

In the end, I had no choice but to shout it out myself.

“I AM A CORRUPT MEMBER OF THE VESTED INTERESTS! I WILL FACE THE JUDGMENT OF THE PEOPLE!”

“Oh.”

“Good words.”

Belated positive feedback followed.

I continued to passionately praise the revolution.

“My eyes were opened to the corruption thanks to the revolution. The awakening of the people… no, the masses, is like a flame, allowing even someone as corrupt as I, a product of the old regime, to realize the revolutionary spirit.”

“What do I mean by saying the revolution is blameless and the rebellion has its reasons? I mean exactly that! Both the revolution and the rebellion, at their core, are because this society is corrupt! The society abandoned you first, so how can we blame you for rising up just to survive?”

“What? You feel guilty because you’ve been taught all your life that patriotism and loyalty are virtues? What kind of talk is that! It’s not about what you can do for the country, but about what the country can do for you!”

“The united people will never be defeated! Rise and sing, the people will be victorious!”

I had a sudden realization that this might not be right, but it was too late. I was already riding the tiger.

Every time I felt my resolve weakening, the terrible synopsis the author had muttered would come back to me like a prophecy of doom, restoring my acting spirit.

Whether it ended in success or failure, I had no choice but to see it through to the end.

And… I really had come to the end.

* * *

One year later.

“Then, I hereby declare that the resolution to abolish the monarchy, proposed by Representative Eugene Hastings and twelve others, has been passed.”

The main hall of the National Assembly erupted into chaos.

The royalists sitting on the right wailed, while the young revolutionaries on the left, ‘our’ side, cheered triumphantly.

“Thank you, sir!”

“We have changed history!”

“It would have been impossible without your leadership!”

Damn it, I’m not even a ‘sir’ and I never led anything.

“The morning bell rings! A new dawn has come! Let’s all rise and build a new village!”

Watching my extremely leftist comrades, who were basically commies by this era’s standards, singing the party anthem I had composed thoughtlessly, embracing each other, was a bizarrely twisted sight.

‘Is this my fault?’

Even though I didn’t know the original story exactly, it probably didn’t turn out like this.

‘No! I am not to blame! Revolution is innocent! Rebellion is justified!’

As a marked high noble, I would be a target for purging if I showed any ideological hesitation, so I just moved my mouth a bit more enthusiastically!

As countless requests for handshakes poured in, I stood there, dazed and shaking hands mechanically.

‘Damn it, how did I end up like this…’

Eugene Hastings.

The male lead of the romance fantasy I possessed.

No longer the count of a kingdom, but a member of the republic’s parliament.

And now, the ideological pillar and leader of the most radical and revolutionary faction.