Chapter 4: The Trope Tax Rebellion
Saturday morning started with a blood-curdling scream from his son, echoing through the cramped cubicle apartment and shattering the morning silence.
"Appaaaaa!"
Joon-ho shot upright in bed, a small pillow tumbling from his head. His nine-year-old son, Min-jae, stood beside the bed, clutching the family tablet like it was a dead hamster. His lip trembled, and his wide eyes shone with tears.
"I uploaded my comic to KidsNet," Min-jae said, voice wobbling.
"And… and… the Algorithm hates me!"
Joon-ho blinked the sleep from his eyes. "…The what?"
"The Algorithm!" Min-jae wailed, shoving the tablet into his dad's face.
"It says my hero can't save anyone without a license!"
Joon-ho squinted at the screen. A spinning red hologram blared:
GOOGAA ALERT: Unauthorized Originality
Reason: Hero attempted to save city without proper license.
Penalty: 200 Engagement Points deducted.
Joon-ho's jaw fell open. "…They're taxing your comic for having a hero?"
"Yes! All he does is deliver chicken to people trapped by the Algorithm! He doesn't need a license for that!"
GOAT flickered into view above the tablet, grinning with the glee of an old man watching the neighbor slip on ice.
"Ha ha! Kid's already rebelling against the system. No wonder Goo-Gaa hates him."
"Not helping," Joon-ho muttered, pulling his son into a side hug.
Min-jae sniffled. "I just wanted Super Delivery Boy to save someone…"
GOAT's eyes glinted with the same mischief that had caused last night's chaos.
"Well, well… looks like the creativity police are working overtime. Which means…"
He rubbed his ghostly hands together.
"…It's time for a trope flood."
---
Thirty minutes later, Joon-ho was hunched over his wheezing phone, typing the worst things he had ever written, while GOAT floated beside him like a gleeful, corrupt writing coach.
"Are you sure about this?" Joon-ho muttered, as his thumbs produced another literary abomination.
"Kid," GOAT said, "the system's addicted to clichés. If we feed it enough garbage, it'll choke on mediocrity and beg for originality."
"…This feels morally wrong."
"Morals don't trend. Now type this:
'The CEO's long-lost twin brother, who is secretly a werewolf, shows up at the wedding holding a silver briefcase and announcing… he's pregnant.'"
Joon-ho groaned. "This is literary pollution."
"Exactly! Keep polluting!"
TROPE FLOOD MONTAGE:
Joon-ho's thumbs blurred across the screen. His phone wheezed in agony, but he didn't stop.
Upload after upload, the algorithm swallowed every absurdity:
The Vampire CEO kissed the mermaid ninja under the meteor shower while their pet dragon cried.
Reincarnated as a Dishwasher: Level Up!
The Baby I Adopted Is Actually My Future Mother-in-Law.
Red holograms burst across the screen like fireworks:
TROPE DETECTED.
TROPE DETECTED.
…SYSTEM WARNING: SATURATION IMMINENT.
GOAT cackled, spinning in midair.
"Ohhh, she's wheezing! Hear that server fan?"
Somewhere, faint and mechanical, a distant whir rose like a dying refrigerator.
---
Then, with a shimmer of perfect holographic grace, Eve-1 appeared. Arms crossed. Smirk flawless.
"Grumpy," she said in her cool, unhurried tone.
"I should report you."
"You always threaten and never do," GOAT said, unbothered. "What's your move, princess?"
For the first time, her smirk faltered. She sighed. "…Do you have any idea how many 'brooding vampire CEO' novels I've had to proofread this year? I want to die. Again."
Joon-ho blinked. Her voice carried something new, real exhaustion. "Are you… helping us?"
"Consider it professional burnout," she said, and snapped her fingers.
Suddenly, every rejected story in the Backend—the forgotten epics, the half-written poems, even Min-jae's comic, started force-copying itself into the main servers. A silent flood of rebellion.
Joon-ho's phone buzzed violently, notifications stacking faster than his tired eyes could follow:
WARNING: TROPE OVERLOAD. SYSTEM UNSTABLE.
…INITIATING EMERGENCY PURGE.
GOAT whooped. "Yes! YES! Feel the mediocrity!"
The phone screen flickered, then went black.
The joyful chaos in the apartment vanished. The air grew colder, as though the algorithm itself was holding its breath.
Then a single hologram appeared. Grainy, ancient, its deep voice carrying the weight of a digital ghost older than the system itself.
"…GOAT," it rumbled.
"It's been a long time."
Joon-ho shivered. "Who… who is that?"
GOAT's grin faltered for the first time. His voice dropped to a near whisper.
"…Someone I prayed was deleted."
---
End of Episode 4
Next: Episode 5 – "The Ghost in the Machine (and the Phone That Can't Handle It)" — the truth about GOAT's past and a heist in the sky.