「There are three ways to survive in a ruined world. I've forgotten some of them now. But one thing is certain. You, who are reading this now, will survive.
―Three Ways to Survive in a Ruined World 完」
The old smartphone, with the webnovel platform open, seemed to strain as it scrolled. Down, then back up again. How many times had I done that?
“Seriously? This is the end?”
I looked again, then again, but there was no mistaking it: 完, the character for “complete.”
It meant the novel was over.
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『Three Ways to Survive in a Ruined World』
Author: tls123
3149 installments in total
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『Three Ways to Survive in a Ruined World』, a sprawling fantasy novel that ran to a staggering 3149 installments.
‘Ways of Survival’ for short.
I'd been reading this novel faithfully since my third year of middle school.
Even when the school bullies singled me out and made me an outcast.
Even when I blew my entrance exams and enrolled at a third-rate provincial university.
Even when a damn random-number draw went wrong and landed me in a frontline military unit.
Even now, after changing jobs again and again, working on contract at a subsidiary of a major corporation...... Damn it, let's stop talking about that. Anyway.
「Author's note: Thank you for reading ‘Ways of Survival’ all this time. I'll be back with the epilogue!」
“Ah...... There’s still an epilogue left. So is the next installment really the last one?”
From the tail end of childhood to adulthood.
A long journey spanning a full 10 years.
The hollow feeling of a world coming to an end mingled with the satisfaction of finally seeing how that world ended.
I opened the comments on the final installment and rewrote my message over and over.
―Kim Dokja: Author-nim, thank you so much for everything. I'll be looking forward to the epilogue, too.
I meant every word.
Things like “Ways of Survival was my all-time favorite novel.”
Or “It may not have had broad appeal, but to me it was the best novel of all.”
There was so much I wanted to say, but I couldn't bring myself to write it.
I was afraid a careless word from me might hurt the author.
―Average views: 1.9
―Average comments: 1.08
Those were the average popularity figures for ‘Ways of Survival’.
At least the first installment's view count was somewhere in the 1200s, but after installment 10, the count plummeted to 120, and after installment 50, it dropped again to 12. From installment 100 onward, it stayed at 1.
1 view.
Looking at the countless ‘1’s displayed in the list of posts, I felt a fresh swell of emotion.
An occasional ‘2’ appeared among them, but it was probably someone clicking by mistake.
I was grateful.
To keep publishing a novel with just 1 view for more than 3,000 installments, and for a full 10 years at that. Wasn't this truly a story just for me?
―Recommending a seriously fun novel.
I tapped [Recommendations Board] and started pounding away at the keyboard without a second thought.
The author had written it all the way to the end for free. The least I could do was write a recommendation.
As soon as I pressed the button to submit the post, comments began appearing.
―Looks like a new kind of hater. I searched this person's username, and they've recommended the same novel over and over.
―Isn't recommending your own work against the rules? Author-nim, you shouldn't be doing this here.
Only then did I remember that I'd written a recommendation a few months earlier, too.
Within moments, dozens of comments appeared, littered with labels like ‘attention whore’ and ‘tard’. My face burned.
The author was bound to read this post, too.
I hurriedly tried to delete it, but all I got was a message saying it couldn't be deleted because it had already been reported.
“Damn.......”
The thought that my heartfelt recommendation had ended up tarnishing the work left a bitter taste in my mouth.
It was a good story if you just stuck with it for a little while. Why wouldn't anyone read it?
I wanted to at least send the author a donation, but I was a salaried worker barely earning enough to support myself. There was no way I could afford that.
That was when a notification appeared: ‘You have received a private message’.
―tls123: Thank you.
A message out of nowhere. It took me a moment to realize what was happening.
―Kim Dokja: Author-nim?
tls123.
That was the author of ‘Ways of Survival’.
―tls123: Thanks to you, I was able to make it all the way to the end. I also won a prize in a writing contest.
I couldn't believe it.
A writing contest? That ‘Ways of Survival’?
―Kim Dokja: Congratulations! What contest was it?
―tls123: It's an obscure contest, so you probably won't have heard of it.
I wondered if the author was lying out of embarrassment. But I hoped it was true.
After all, who knew?
It had flopped here, but it could become a huge hit on another platform.
I did feel a little wistful, but it was a good thing for a good story to reach more people.
―tls123: I’d like to send you a special gift as a token of my thanks, dear reader.
―Kim Dokja: A gift?
―tls123: After all, it’s entirely thanks to you that this story could come into the world, dear reader.
When the author asked for my email address, I gave the one I used regularly.
―tls123: Oh, and a date has been set for it to become paid content.
―Kim Dokja: Wow, really? When does that start? I should have been paying to read a masterpiece like this from the beginning.......
That was a lie. ‘Ways of Survival’ was updated daily, so reading it for a whole month would cost 3,000 won. To me, 3,000 won was a convenience-store boxed meal.
―tls123: It becomes paid content tomorrow.
―Kim Dokja: Then will the epilogue coming out tomorrow cost money, too?
―tls123: Yes. I'm sorry, but I'm thinking of releasing it as paid content.
―Kim Dokja: Of course you should charge for it! I'll definitely pay to read the last installment!
There was no reply from the author after that.
Apparently, the author had logged out of the site. A sense of emptiness washed over me after a moment.
Now that you've made it, you just leave without even replying?
My admiration turned to petty jealousy.
What had I gotten so excited about?
It wasn't even a novel I'd written.
“Maybe it'll be a culture gift certificate or something? A 50,000-won one would be nice.”
Naively, those were the sorts of thoughts occupying me back then.
With no idea at all what would happen to the world the next day.