Cho Sa-rang stared at the final line of the chapter for a long time.

Then she dropped her phone onto the bed.

"No way."

The season finale had ended exactly the way she feared it would.

The female lead had chosen the male lead.

Again.

Meanwhile, her beloved second male lead—the one who had stayed by her side through every hardship, the one who never asked for anything in return—had been left standing alone.

Sa-rang buried her face in a pillow.

"This is so unfair."

The more she thought about it, the more annoyed she became.

Seriously, what was the female lead thinking?

The male lead had lied to her, hurt her, and somehow managed to collect misunderstandings like a hobby. To make matters worse, there was still that suspicious relationship with his step sister hanging over the story.

Yet somehow he still won.

Meanwhile, the second male lead devoted years of his life to helping her.

And got absolutely nothing.

"If I could possess the female lead for just one chapter..." Sa-rang muttered.

The pillow muffled her voice.

"I'd fix this entire romance in five minutes."

She imagined grabbing the female lead by the shoulders and shaking some sense into her.

The thought helped a little.

Not much.

With the frustration of a thousand disappointed readers weighing on her heart, Sa-rang reread the final chapter anyway.

Then she reread her favorite scenes.

Then she tortured herself by reading the comment section.

By the time she finally put her phone down, it was well past midnight.

Her eyes felt heavy.

The strange red arrows, the floating numbers, her discovery about the meaning of hatred—all of it seemed distant compared to the tragedy of her favorite character losing.

With one last dramatic sigh, she rolled over.

Tomorrow was tomorrow's problem.

Within minutes, she was asleep.

The next morning, something felt wrong.

Sa-rang opened her eyes.

For several seconds she simply stared at the ceiling.

Then she noticed it.

Something red was sitting on her bedside table.

She sat upright.

"What?"

It was a phone.

Not her phone.

A glossy red flip phone gleamed beneath the morning sunlight pouring through her curtains.

Sa-rang blinked.

Then blinked again.

She definitely did not own a red flip phone.

Slowly, cautiously, she reached out and picked it up.

The device felt strangely warm.

There was no logo.

No brand name.

Nothing.

"Did Mom buy this?"

The second the thought crossed her mind, she rejected it.

Her mother would never buy something this weird without saying anything.

Curious, she flipped it open.

The screen immediately lit up.

No password.

No lock screen.

Just a single notification.

1 New Message

A chill crawled up her neck.

The sender's name was blank.

There wasn't even a phone number.

Only a small icon shaped like a pair of wings.

"...Okay, that's creepy."

Against her better judgment, she tapped the message.

A video began playing.

Static flickered across the screen.

Then a tiny figure appeared.

Sa-rang nearly dropped the phone.

The creature looked like a fairy straight out of a fantasy story—small enough to fit in the palm of her hand, with shimmering wings and silver hair.

The fairy cleared its throat.

"Congratulations, Cho Sa-rang."

Sa-rang stared.

The fairy smiled brightly.

"You have successfully awakened the Hate Value System."

The phone almost slipped from her fingers.

The fairy continued speaking as if this were completely normal.

"The red arrows indicate hatred between individuals. The numerical values represent accumulated hatred. The percentages indicate projected lifetime hatred totals."

Sa-rang's mouth slowly fell open.

The fairy knew.

It knew about the arrows.

It knew about the numbers.

It knew about everything she had seen yesterday.

"Users selected by the system gain the ability to perceive hatred invisible to ordinary humans."

Sa-rang felt her heartbeat quicken.

"Selected?"

The fairy nodded.

"Of course. Not everyone can become a system user."

For a brief moment, Sa-rang felt strangely special.

Then the fairy added cheerfully:

"Only individuals with exceptionally high hatred values qualify."

The special feeling vanished immediately.

"What?"

The fairy's smile somehow became even brighter.

"In fact, among all currently living humans, your hatred value ranks first."

Silence.

Sa-rang stared at the screen.

The screen stared back.

"...What?"

"Congratulations!"

"What?"

"You possess the highest recorded hatred value in the world."

"What?!"

The fairy clapped enthusiastically.

"An incredible achievement!"

Sa-rang jumped to her feet.

"Achievement?!"

Her voice cracked.

The fairy continued as if reading from a script.

"Millions of people may be disliked by others, but only one person can claim the title of World's Most Hated."

Sa-rang's brain stopped functioning.

She pointed at herself.

"Me?"

"Yes."

"THE most hated?"

"Correct."

"In the entire world?"

"Correct."

"Out of eight billion people?"

"Correct."

Sa-rang sat back down.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

Then she buried her face in her hands.

Somehow, finding out that mysterious supernatural forces existed was not the most shocking part of her morning.

The most shocking part was discovering that she apparently held first place in a category she had never entered.

And somewhere deep inside, a terrifying question began to form.

If she was truly the most hated person in the world...

Then who exactly hated her so much?