Chapter 1: I Said I Hate This Book
I said I hated this book. So why the hell did they make me read it?
The premise is already a mess: the daughter of a crime syndicate leader is somehow impossibly clueless that her father is a criminal. She lives in luxury, surrounded by guards 24/7, constantly told her father has “a lot of enemies”—with no actual context. And she just... accepts that?
The male lead is a detective trying to take the crime family down. One night, he breaks protocol and sneaks into their estate. While hiding, he runs into the boss's daughter. At first, he plans to use her to get information—only to realize she’s completely unaware of her father’s true occupation. She thinks he runs some company, which is so vague I can’t even—
So of course, he falls in love with her. Why? Because she’s innocent. She, in turn, falls for him because he’s new and foreign and mysterious or whatever.
She eventually finds out the truth, but then… she just sort of acts suspicious of her father for the rest of the book. That’s it. Until the male lead finally gets her out.
And for some weird reason, every single man in the book immediately develops a crush on the head of security—except the male lead. She’s supposed to be the “drop-dead gorgeous villainess,” but here’s the thing: she doesn’t do anything villainous.
She just stands there. Literally. In the room. Looking beautiful. Grabbing everyone's attention. Protecting the boss and his daughter.
That’s it.
She’s supposed to be this terrifying obstacle, but the only reason she’s “villain-coded” is because she’s competent, stunning, and can go toe-to-toe with the male lead. And fun fact? He never even defeats her in a fight. The only reason he wins is because he gets a warrant and arrests the boss. She goes voluntarily.
What the hell kind of book is this?
The female lead is boring. The male lead does nothing but fantasize about being some shining knight and saving her. The villainess is just… a capable employee. There’s no tension. No complexity. Nothing satisfying, unless you’re reading purely for a bland romance with a side of crime drama window dressing.
You want to know what the synopsis was?
> “Trapped in a dangerous home, Kang Juri is surrounded by enemies. Her father is the head of a crime syndicate. Their head of security is always following her, watching her with sharp eyes. She’s trapped day in and day out. One night, she meets a handsome, mysterious man—hiding in her closet. He reveals the truth about her father, whom she’d loved blindly. Shocked, she begins passing secret intel to him, helping Detective Choi Dohyun gather the evidence he needs to bring her father to justice.”
Sounds exciting, right?
But what actually happens is she texts Dohyun every time her dad leaves the house, and that’s it. The head of security? She’s not some stalker—she’s just doing her damn job. She's assigned as a personal guard. She barely even talks to the main character. I’m sure she didn’t want to play babysitter either.
Look, I know it’s my job to review books. And sometimes I have to find something—anything—nice to say about a bad one. But this? This was hot garbage. And then I see fans in the comments swooning over the male lead and I just—I don’t care. I can’t pretend to care.
That night, I tried to salvage my review and be “professional.” I sent it off, shut my laptop, and laid in bed stewing over how upset I was. Not even just at the book, but at the fact I was being forced to pretend it was good.
Soon after, my phone exploded with messages from my editor:
> “WHAT IS THIS?!”
“You’re being so rude!”
“‘The author should go outside and touch grass since she clearly wants it so bad for the female lead’—ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!”
“Fix your review. Right. Now. Or don’t bother coming in tomorrow.”
So yeah. I fixed the review. Begrudgingly. I wrote it like I had the brain of the female lead. Sent it off. And passed out.
My last thoughts before falling asleep? Probably something like: That book was a waste of ink and oxygen.
So explain to me why I woke up in a frilly pink-and-white princess bedroom, wearing a poofy nightgown, staring into a mirror at a face I didn’t recognize.
There was a soft knock at the door.
I blinked. “C-come in?”
The door creaked open and in walked the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Calm and poised, with a voice like velvet, she said:
“Miss, your father wishes to have breakfast with you. Please come down when you are ready.”
I nodded dumbly.
She closed the door gently behind her.
...
“WHAT THE HELL?!”
