Who has time to waste begging for love from this family, when there's the greatest villain in the world—Zhào Shēn Luò?
Seriously—if I have to choose between knocking on cold, locked doors for scraps of affection or basking in the glorious presence of the most dangerous, most tragically perfect fictional man ever created… the choice is obvious.
And if you're wondering who Shēn Luò is, let me enlighten you.
He's not just some run-of-the-mill villain. Oh no. He's the villain. The one who makes you forget to breathe when he walks into a scene. The one whose every word feels like it's carved from ice and fire at the same time. Without him, the novel he inhabits would collapse in on itself like a badly made soufflé—flat, tasteless, and utterly forgettable.
The book's called Last Boss in the Apocalypse. Every chapter? Electric. Every scene? Alive because of him. Without Shēn Luò, it's just another apocalyptic soap opera, stuffed with clichés and flat characters smiling through disaster like toothpaste commercials. But with him? Oh, it's an entire feast.
The world he lives in is a spectacular mess—think zombies with jaws like steel traps, superpowered humans throwing lightning and ice like party favors, mutant plants the size of buildings, and zombie animals that could probably eat an SUV for breakfast. Every apocalypse trope you've ever heard of is standing in perfect formation, waiting for the slaughter.
Why is it so popular? Maybe because it doesn't waste time with fluff. The plot is tight enough to snap. The events hit one after another without mercy. Sure, there's romance sprinkled in, but it's not the whole point—thank the literary gods for that. Honestly, I've never understood those other stories. The world is ending, people! You're running out of food! You're one bad decision away from getting eaten alive! And you… You're holding hands and making heart eyes? Ridiculous.
But Shēn Luò? He's different. He doesn't have time for such idiocy. He's sharp as a blade and twice as lethal, moving through that dying world with the elegance of a predator who knows exactly what he's capable of. And yet… for reasons only the author and the cruel universe understand, he always—always—ends up protecting the heroine. Saving her. Shielding her from dangers he should probably let her walk into.
Which makes everyone—everyone—believe he's secretly in love with her. Even the male lead, his half-brother, believes it. He's so convinced, in fact, that he uses her like bait to bleed Shēn Luò dry of his rare resources. Even steals his late mother's private dimension—yes, steals it—for her sake.
But don't get the wrong idea. No one mistakes him for a softhearted saint. Shēn Luò is more dangerous than the beasts and zombies combined, and he knows it. That's exactly why I adore him—his coldness, his elegance, the way he refuses to bend for anyone. Not his father. Not his stepmother. Not even fate itself.
If I could live like him—untouched by other people's opinions, answering to no one—
I rolled onto my back on the bed, the creak of the mattress loud in the dim quiet. My head was still spinning from the fever I'd been nursing for two days, but none of that mattered. Today was update day. Yesterday, the author had promised a "big surprise" in the next chapter. My heart drummed in my chest just thinking about it.
The room was black, curtains drawn tight. I leaned over to get my phone, the chilled glass icy against my palm. The screen glowed in my eyes, its blue spectral. I touched open the app, my thumb trembling a bit with anticipation.
And then—
The ground fell out from under me.
Thud… whoosh…
It was like the words had sharp edges, slicing through my chest as I read them. My eyes blurred, not from the fever, but from the sudden, suffocating rush of tears. They didn't just fall—they spilled, hot and relentless, soaking my cheeks.
"Why… why did this happen?" The whisper tore from my throat, trembling.
Last night, everything had been fine. Shēn Luò had been on a routine mission, clearing low-level zombies near the base. Close by. Safe. There had been no foreshadowing, no ominous hints.
So why was I now staring at the words fatally wounded… dead?
"What the hell is this?" My voice cracked. "You trash author—how… what—"
My thoughts spun out, frantic and wild.
No, no. This had to be a fever dream. I'd wake up, drink water, maybe take more meds, and everything would be fine. Shēn Luò couldn't die. It was impossible. He was stronger than the protagonist! He'd survived wounds no other human could. He could regenerate limbs. He could fight the Zombie King to a standstill. And now I was supposed to believe a weak, low-ranked zombie stabbed him to death? Just like that? No warning? No reason?
Bang! Bang!
"Be quiet, you idiot girl, be still!" My mother yelled through the thin wood of the door, cold and irritable. "If you're good enough to yell, you're good enough to work! Stop staring!"
The banging at the door was hard, as if every hit was a hammer to my ribs.
I'd frozen, knowing I'd been crying out loud. But the pain was too raw, too new to be held. I dove into the comments, clinging by fingernails to the belief that this was some great joke.
It wasn't.
The comment feed was chaos—readers flooding in, each one as furious and devastated as I was. No one could believe it. People were threatening to quit the novel, demanding answers, begging for explanations.
And then… the author appeared.
> Sweet Melon: Hello, I'm the author of Last Boss in the Apocalypse. I've received your pleas and messages. Honestly, you're such impatient readers. Wasn't there a "to be continued" at the end of the chapter? And those who know me know I post daily and on time. So why can't you just wait until tomorrow to get your answers? But since you're all so desperate for spoilers, I'll gladly oblige. First: yes, your beloved great villain Shēn Luò is dead. Second: he was betrayed and poisoned by the heroine and his half-brother with a toxin that temporarily disabled all his powers. Finally, if you want to know more, keep reading the next chapters. I won't say another word about it. If you understand, please let me get some sleep now—otherwise, there will be no chapter tomorrow. With love, your dear author, Sweet Melon.
"Sweet Melon, my ass." My voice dropped to a venomous murmur. If he were standing in front of me right now, I'd—
"Shēn Luò… Shēn Luò… Shēn Luò…"
I whispered his name into the stillness, the night pressing against me like a heavy shroud. The moonless sky outside seemed to echo my grief, the darkness swallowing every sound. I didn't remember when I fell asleep—only that I'd refused, absolutely refused, to accept it.
When morning came, the light forced my eyes open. The fever was lifted, but only an aching hollowness in my arms and legs and a raw sear in my eyes remained. My instinct was to grab my phone.
No. It wasn't a dream.
The reality of it—those words, that betrayal—remained as razor-sharp as glass.
"How am I to survive now, Shēn Luò?" I was hoarse, my voice cracking. "How am I to live in a world where you don't exist—"