Transmigration

While I was at work, a line of comments drifted over my head: [Huh? Is this player pouring tea for the boss?]

[No way! This is a super SS-rank horror instance!]

The blood-red words swept past overhead, radiating an eerie, ominous air. Not far away, my boss sat with his gold-rimmed glasses on, head lowered as he read the newspaper, just like always.

I stopped looking at the “comments” and, bracing myself, picked up the cup of hot tea. “B-Boss, your tea is ready.”

The man in front of me didn’t take it.

Instead, he stared at me with an unreadable expression.

“Why are you so nervous?”

“Did you see something I can’t?”

Yuan Lina was the kind of teenage delinquent who wore bizarre outfits, dyed her hair strange colors, and caked on dramatic makeup.

Yuan Lina smoked, drank-she did it all. She had once poured Erguotou into a mineral water bottle and brought it to school to drink openly.

Yuan Lina liked forming little gangs and bullying people.

Plenty of people had been beaten up by her.

I transmigrated into a world of horror, and by accident, I stole and ate the Bodhisattva’s offerings.

But the Bodhisattva did not blame me. Instead, They told me to leave that place and never come back.

After I became an adult, a huge sum of money inexplicably appeared in my account.

Someone told me I must not accept it.

Because in another world, someone was making offerings to the dead-me.

Half skeptical and half convinced, I took the money.

But that night, I heard the Bodhisattva’s whisper again.

“Run…”

“The thing from that world…”

“It has found you.”

I woke up in my arch-rival’s bed.

His clothes were in disarray, his body was covered in red marks, and his eyes were clouded with the lingering haze of intimacy.

Shocked and enraged, I pointed at him and yelled, “Traitorous Chancellor, how dare you defile me-”

“This Chancellor has fulfilled every custom from the three letters to the six rites. Why would I not dare?” he countered calmly.

“Nonsense!” My eyes widened. “When did I ever marry you?”

“Not long ago,” he said, his long eyes narrowing as he looked at me, “while you were suffering from amnesia.”

I was a palace maid serving at the emperor’s side when I accidentally started seeing floating comments.

The comments said the emperor was hopelessly love-brained.

By day, when Consort Gui treated him coldly, he acted as if he couldn’t care less.

By night, he would sob under the covers, terrified his eyes would turn red from crying, then sneak out of bed in the middle of the night to press ice against them.

I didn’t believe it. Was this really my cold-blooded, ruthless, domineering emperor?

Later, I discovered the comments were right.

He really was love-brained.

Only, the target of his obsession had become me.

But I… didn’t love him.

I transmigrated into a novel, but there was no such character as me in the story.

For seventeen years, I lived as a wealthy and beautiful heiress in the book.

Just when I was about to forget that I was someone who had transmigrated into a novel, the Story Management Bureau finally assigned me a task.