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I woke up as Jeong Iwon — the throwaway character in a BL novel who pines after the male lead and dies badly for it.
So I did the only thing I could: buried my real pheromones as deep as they'd go, cheered the main couple on like my life depended on it, which it did, and clawed my way through a survival campaign that frankly deserved an award.
And it worked. Death flag: obliterated. I made it all the way through their wedding in one piece. All that was left was to let go of everything, move out to the quiet little village I'd picked out ahead of time, cook myself good food, and grow old in peace.
Or so I thought.
“Huh? I came out here to watch you die. Why are you fine?”
That's the third‑generation chaebol who went off the deep end after losing the main character, pulling up in a very shiny sports car.
“……Why did you help me?”
And that's the genius boxer who lost everything, currently facedown in my front yard.
Why the original novel's regret‑riddled sub‑tops tracked him to the middle of nowhere, Jeong Iwon couldn't tell you. But he wasn't cold enough to turn away starving, half‑broken strays and pretend he hadn't seen them.
“Just come inside. Have something warm before you go, at least.”
So: can Jeong Iwon hang onto his peaceful retirement with two hungry, wounded houseguests underfoot?
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