To Become The Protagonist Or To Die

A soft chime rang inside her skull.

Veyra's eyes flew open.

What?

[Host vitals detected. Mind-to-core connection stabilizing… 86%… 91%… 100%.]

[Echo System booting interface.]

Her eyes widened in alarm.

That voice—

It hadn't come from the room.

It came from inside her head.

What the hell was that?

Was she hallucinating?! Had the bump to the head done more damage than she thought?!

[Welcome, Veyra Halden. You have been chosen.]

She froze.

The warmth of the sun still poured over her skin like honey, but her blood turned ice-cold. Her gaze swept around the room, desperate for logic—but everything looked the same.

Clean. Quiet. Normal.

Except now…

There was a voice in her mind.

Suddenly, Everything around her faded into a strange, shifting silence as her consciousness was pulled inward.

—SHHHH-CLICK.

Suddenly, she was standing in an endless glass space surrounded by fog.

No doors. No shadows. No ceiling. Just her and the shimmer of glass-like panels that float midair, rearranging themselves when she focuses on one.

Then, they all coalesced into one large rectangular sleek, and transparent interface with gleaming silver text appearing on it, clean and smooth. 

[The Echo System has been successfully installed.]

A soft hum followed, like crystal glasses vibrating.

Veyra's jaw clenched.

"What the hell…"

[Do not panic, Veyra.] 

It spoke to her in that calm, AI-neutral tone.

[This is the Echo System—a narrative rewrite interface crafted from residual Reader Sentiment and Timeline Instability.]

[You are now the Protagonist of an Alternate Version of /When Spring Sings Again/.]

[A new story has begun since the moment you arrived here.]

"Okay, I'm going crazy." She shook her head, laughing. "No, I'm already crazy—because why the hell would I be seeing this?!"

[You are not crazy. Everything you're seeing is real, Veyra. If you could accept that you transmigrated into a story you read, why not believe this too?]

"What? That was different. I didn't have a choice," she muttered, chuckling dryly. "Now I'm literally talking to it."

[Because transmigration is a common trope? But only in stories.

Only in people's written imagination.

That phenomenon has never occurred in your world—except to you. And you didn't question it. You accepted it without hesitation.]

[This is no more impossible than that. All I did was pull your consciousness into this mental space. As for the transmigration? Your soul was drawn into this world.]

Veyra's expression sobered.

Damn it. It was right.

She hadn't questioned anything—not the how, not the why. She'd just… gone with it.

She looked up, narrowing her eyes at the floating, translucent panel in front of her. Around her, the space shimmered—glassy, silver-blue, like a lake suspended in air.

She turned back to the voice and, after a moment of psyching herself up, she spoke.

"What are you?"

[As I said earlier, I was born from the overwhelming dissatisfaction of readers with When Spring Sings Again. Their collective frustration, their fanfiction, their rejection of the narrative—they created me. A new story was needed. One where Erisia Wrenford becomes the true female protagonist.]

"What? Seriously?" Veyra blinked. "Then why am I in Erisia's body if she was supposed to be the protagonist? Why did the real Erisia die? And who the hell created you?"

[Though Erisia was chosen by popular vote, she lacked what the readers envisioned in a lead. That's where you come in.]

[In your last life, you were the illegitimate daughter of a powerful military official. You and your mother were cast aside, abused, and humiliated. But you were tenacious, you never broke. Your mother did when your father's wife threatened your life and coerced her into suicide.]

[You promised revenge—and delivered. You orchestrated the death of that woman, helped your father's political enemies assassinate him, sent his eldest son to prison for his corrupt deeds, ruined the manipulative second daughter's marriage, and forced the rest of his children to grovel. Then you seized the family fortune—and donated more than half to orphanages.]

"What the—"

[Despite all that, you had a conscience. A moral compass. That's why you're the perfect candidate to rewrite the story.]

[You were also one of the most vocal readers who hated the original female lead—naive, passive, too easily forgiving.]

[Aa seen from these comments: No one's bitch – a top commenter notorious for her unfiltered takes on the story.]

1. Chapter 46: "Lyra cries for the 19th time after being insulted by the ML's mother."

No one's bitch:

"This girl's tear ducts need a damn restraining order. Grow a spine! If someone insulted me, I'd insult their fucking bloodline and buy their house just to evict them. But noooo, Lyra just cries and bakes muffins. AGAIN."

2. Chapter 65: "Lyra finally confesses to Asher under the moonlight."

No one's bitch:

"The only thing tragic here is me wasting 3 minutes of life I'll never get back reading this melodrama. Girl, he treated you like a substitute, a fucking leftover for 80 chapters and you confess? Bold of you to assume he has a heart. Or functioning brain cells."

3. Chapter 80: "Sierra cries and Lyra forgives her for attempting to burn down the orphanage."

No one's bitch:

"Oh. So arson is just 'a shitty mistake' now? Cool. What's next, murder is just a hug with consequences? Author, please touch grass. Better yet, roll in it."

4. Chapter 110: "Lyra lies to cover up the ML's abuse of her."

No one's bitch:

"This story has more red flags than a communist parade. This isn't romance, it's a disgusting way to romanticize abuse and the one being doesn't fucking see it as one. Good job author, they are a fucking match made in hell."

⸻

Veyra stared at the glowing screen, lips twitching.

"…I remember those. Damn, I was pissed."

[Yes. So were thousands of others. That's how the Echo System was born.]

"Okay, can you shut the fuck up for a minute?" Veyra ran a hand through her hair, "I don't know how the hell you just summarized my entire life like you lived it or had any right to."

[I apologize. I accessed your memories.]

"My memories?!" she snapped. "Listen—don't you ever dig through my mind without permission again, you stupid system. And no—I'm not rewriting any fucking story, okay? I've lived through enough hell. I'm not doing this all over again. I don't want to be a protagonist, I don't want a plot, and I don't want to hear any more narrative bullshit!"

[I'm sorry, Veyra, truly. But you don't have a choice.]

[If you refuse, your fate will be worse than your last life. You won't even get a chance to fight back. Because Erisia Wrenford is scheduled to die—in the next 96 hours. Do you understand, Veyra?]

Her breath hitched.

The words echoed in her mind like a bell tolling at midnight.

Die? Again? In four days?!

She clutched her head, her fingers tightening in her hair as she paced in frantic circles.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!" 

She'd already forgotten!

In the story, Erisia was going to die soon—and it wasn't going to be pretty.

She crouched down, eyes fixed on the fog curling around her ankles like a death omen.

She couldn't die. Not again. Not this soon.

For fuck's sake, she was still in the damn hospital because she almost died.

And if she was being honest—really honest—this damn voice had a point.

If she died, it'd all be for nothing.

And God, she hated how the author wrote Sierra.

She used to scream at her phone while reading, saying If only she were the author, Sierra would've paid tenfold for what she did.

She stood slowly, walked up to the floating screen, and looked at the system, her voice calm.

"If I accept this… I live, right?"

[Yes, Veyra. If you accept the mission you transmigrated for, your death flag can be removed. You will live.]

"How? What mission are we talking about?"

[With your actions and my help, no one will be able to hurt you.

Your mission is simple: Survive. Thrive.

Rewrite the story. And take revenge.

Become a protagonist readers will love.]

Veyra narrowed her eyes. Her grin was slow, deliberate. "I see… So how do I accept it?"

[Veyra Halden. From this moment forward, you will become Erisia Wrenford. Shed your name from your past life.

Become the female protagonist of this new story—When Spring Comes Again.

Do you agree?]

She took a long breath, then exhaled.

"I accept. I'm Erisia Wrenford now. And I'm going to rewrite that shitty story so damn well…The author will roll over in their grave—even if they're still alive."

[The Echo System has successfully merged.]

[Congratulations, Erisia Wrenford.

You are now the Protagonist of When Spring Comes Again.]

[Mission Priority: Survive. Thrive. Rewrite the story.]

[Would you like a tutorial?]

[Y / N]

Erisia stared at the panel for a moment before speaking. "Wait, I have a question—no, I have questions."

[What would you like to know? If I can answer, I will.]

She crossed her arms. "This version might be alternate, but it's still built from the original story, right? So what happens to the original female lead now? If I'm the protagonist, then what's Lyra's role?"

[Yes, this is a rewritten version of the original. Lyra was the protagonist—but now, this is no longer just a story. It's a real world with people who have their own paths, and you are its new protagonist. That makes Lyra just another character. Her role now depends entirely on her choices.]

Erisia's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

[She may no longer be the lead, but she can still become important. Her position—whether as rival, side character, or forgotten background extra—depends on her actions. Based on current progress, she's following the same path she did before.]

[In the original version, when Erisia left the pool party, it shifted to Lyra's point of view. She saw Erisia standing alone by the roadside, shivering. But she didn't help—because she was afraid Sierra would be angry. That exact event repeated two days ago. While you waited for a cab, Lyra saw you. And once again… she chose to look away.]

Erisia's eyes narrowed. "So she did it again. She saw me and still walked away?"

[Yes. Her behavior mirrors the original plot. She'll continue receiving opportunities—some even better than before—but whether she takes them or not will determine what role she ends up playing. If she becomes your rival, it will be by her hand.]

Erisia tilted her head, her voice indifferent. "I see. Well, if she's sticking to the same naive script, then I'll let her. I won't start a fight, but if she comes for me, she won't find the same Erisia."

She gave a sharp exhale. "She's soft and passive. If she stays in her lane, I won't care. But if she crosses into mine…"

[That's a wise stance. Always observe your opponent's next move before you strike.]

[Now—would you like a tutorial?]

[Y / N]

She stared at the silver-hued prompt, its glow subtle but pulsing gently like a heartbeat.

"…Yes."

The panel shimmered—and changed.

[Tutorial Initiated.]