The hallway lights flickered half-broken, half-alive like this school’s dying soul trying to remember
what it once was.
This wasn’t a school anymore.
And at the front of it all, standing as if it were just another Monday, was Lee Seojun, third-year, infamous vice leader of ROMZ, the gang everyone either feared, respected, or secretly wished to join. His uniform jacket hung half-open, his tie long abandoned, and his face was a mess of cuts and purple bruises that hadn’t yet learned to fade. Still, he smiled that reckless, wolfish grin that said he’d already accepted the price of fighting.
He looked over his shoulder, voice calm but carrying the sharp edge of command.
Behind him, the hallway exhal
ed.
Seo Joonwoo stepped forward.
The faint scrape of his shoes against the floor seemed to echo louder than the chaos around him. His jacket, the one everyone at Jungang High had come to recognize moved with quiet weight as he slipped on his black gloves, pulling each finger tight like sealing a promise. His hair was slicked back; sweat caught the dim light and made it gleam like polished steel.
His eyes, calm and cold, swept the ruined corridornot to assess, but to remember. Every mark, every shadow, every broken light held a story he’d already lived through once.
And on his chest, beneath the bruises and cloth, a faint light pulsed invisible to everyone but him.
[Conviction: 78%.]
The system’s glow was steady, rhythmic, like a heartbeat whispering that he was still alive for a reason.
Joonwoo’s lips curved into a quiet smirk.
No one questioned it. Not Seojun, not the rest of ROMZ the boys who’d once ruled the school by fists, loyalty, and unspoken code. They followed because they had seen him bleed and still stand. Because when
Joonwoo moved, something inside people stirred not fear, but belief.
Let me tell you all… these guys weren’t just a gang.
They weren’t heroes.
They weren’t saints.
They were just teens scarred, angry, hopeful fighting for something that still mattered when everything else had stopped meaning anything.
For respect. For their names. For a sense of us in a world that kept saying you’re nothing.
And maybe, just maybe, for something more something people had stopped believing in.
Something romantic.
Because in a school where power was the only language, conviction was the only poetry left.
And this?
....
...
Hey everyone! 👋
This is my first novel, and I’m really excited to finally share it with you all here on GoodNovel.
The story is called Romanticism System, and it’s something very close to my heart.
It follows Seo Joonwoo, a quiet, awkward boy who suddenly remembers his past life as David Lee, a nineteen-year-old who died of cancer.
grades or clubs…
It’s about fists, loyalty, and conviction.
Now enrolled in the notorious Taeyang Technical High, Joonwoo discovers a strange power within him, the Romanticism System which makes him stronger the more his heart believes in something.
💥 Expect:
Intense street fights with emotion and style
Deep friendships and rivalries
A heartfelt journey about second chances
A system that rewards conviction, not cruelty
And maybe… a little love along the way
Thank you for reading and supporting this story.
The crowd was alive with shouts, the narrow alley echoing with each thud of fist against flesh.Seojun’s shoulders rolled like a predator circling prey, his fists snapping out with frightening precision. Every jab, every hook—clean, efficient, merciless. He pressed forward, cutting off Joonwoo’s movement like he’d been boxing for years.Thud! A jab slammed into Joonwoo’s cheek.Crack! A hook to the ribs.Thump! Another cross drilled into his guard, forcing him back against the graffiti-smeared wall.Blood stung his lip as Joonwoo stumbled, barely keeping himself upright. His classmates gasped, whispers spreading like wildfire.“He’s done for…” someone muttered.“That’s Lee Seojun. Nobody survives once he gets serious.”Seojun didn’t even look winded. His voice was low, almost casual, as he swung another body shot that forced Joonwoo to double over.“Give up, transferee. You’ve got guts, but guts don’t win fights.”Joonwoo’s breath hitched, his vision swimming. His knees shook, but his
Seojun’s eyes narrowed, his body twisting with the fluid grace of someone who had drilled the move a thousand times. His roundhouse kick cut through the air with brutal speed—far faster than Joonwoo’s untrained reflexes could fully react to.(Taekwondo—!)Joonwoo tried to twist away, but the strike connected.“—Argh!”Pain shot through his ribs, forcing the breath from his lungs as he stumbled sideways, his hand clutching his side. The crowd gasped, a ripple of murmurs echoing against the alley walls.Seojun landed smoothly, posture unbroken, eyes sharp. His voice carried no sympathy—only cold judgment.“Is that it? You’re too weak.”The words stung more than the kick.Joonwoo’s breathing steadied as he straightened his posture. His sunny smile faltered for the first time, replaced by a quiet resolve flickering in his eyes.(If I need to beat him… I have to use those two cards.)The system’s faint glow shimmered before him, unseen by others.⟢ Speed Enhance (One-Time Use)A temporary
The bell rang at last, freeing the classroom from its tense stillness.As students packed their bags, whispers filled the air.“Did you see that? Seojun almost kicked the transferee’s head off.”“And he didn’t even flinch that much… weird, right?”“If Joonwoo actually fights him, who’s gonna win?”The quiet storm of rumors spread, every eye darting between Joonwoo and Seojun as they pretended to go about their business.Seojun slung his bag over his shoulder and walked straight to Joonwoo’s desk, his shadow falling over him.He leaned down just enough for his words to be low, dangerous.“Meet me in the alley. If you don’t… I’ll follow you till death do us apart.”The smirk on his face wasn’t a joke, it was a promise.Joonwoo’s brows twitched, his smile faltering.(Seriously… why does he want to fight me so badly?)Before he could sigh, something flickered before his eyes.⟢ SYSTEM NOTICE ⟣Quest Generated! Beat Seojun and make him your man… your friend.Reward: +10 Upgrade Points, +5
The morning sun spilled across the schoolyard, the chatter of students buzzing like a hive. Joonwoo stepped onto campus, adjusting the strap of his bag. He was halfway to class when a familiar pink blur slid into view.“Joonwoo!”Joonwoo blinked, recognizing the bright grin and dyed hair immediately.“…Yoon Seungmin?”“Hello~” Seungmin sang, throwing him an exaggerated wink.Joonwoo gave a half-smile, unsure if he should laugh or sigh. (Does he greet everyone like that?)Without missing a beat, Seungmin fell into step beside him, hands in his pockets, almost too casual.“Did you know,” Seungmin began, voice lilting like he was gossiping, “that one of our classmates is coming back today?”Joonwoo tilted his head. “Back?”Seungmin smirked knowingly. “Oh, right… you wouldn’t know. You’re the transferee, after all. That guy—” he lowered his voice, eyes flicking around as if sharing a dangerous secret, “—was our leader back in 2nd year of middle school.”Joonwoo slowed his steps. “Leader?”
Joonwoo leaned back on his bed, letting out a small sigh as the window dimmed.But then another glow appeared smaller, tucked neatly at the bottom of the interface.[Romanticism Points: 600]A faint icon blinked beside it.Joonwoo squinted.“hmm… where should I even use this?”He tapped it, and another window unfolded like a page turning in midair.[Romanticism Shop] – LockedRequirement: All Attributes ≥ 50Status: Not AccessibleJoonwoo’s eyes widened.“Fifty…? All of them? You’re kidding me.”He scrolled down, his frown deepening.(Strength 50, Agility 50, Endurance 50… every stat. That’s insane. How many points would I even need? Months? Years?)As his frustration built, another tab pulsed faintly—different, almost playful.[Romantic Roulette] – AvailableSpin the wheel of chance using Romanticism Points. Rewards vary.Joonwoo blinked, tilting his head.“…Romantic Roulette?”The icon resembled a golden roulette wheel, lined with glowing fragments—he could almost make out symbols:
After School…The sky was painted orange, the last traces of sunlight bleeding into the quiet neighborhood.Seo Joonwoo stood in front of the modest gate of his house. His bag hung loosely over one shoulder, and his uniform was slightly wrinkled from the long day. He let out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.(What a day… cafeteria stares, that pink-haired guy—Seungmin—suddenly showing up, and people whispering about me like I’m some big deal.)He scratched the back of his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips.(Still… he seemed like a good guy. Friendly.)The door creaked open.“I’m home,” Joonwoo called out, slipping off his shoes and neatly placing them by the rack.From the living room, a cheerful voice rang out.“How’s your day, son?”Seo Junghwan peeked his head around the couch. His thinning hair stuck up at odd angles, like he’d just lost a wrestling match with a pillow. A faint soy sauce stain decorated the collar of his T-shirt, proof of his careless lunch