My head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.
I groaned, sitting up. The silk sheets were too smooth, the pillow too fluffy, and the ceiling… definitely not mine.
What the hell?
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, blinking against the gold-and-cream wallpaper. Velvet curtains, carved furniture, not a speck of dust in sight. I stood up — too fast — and stumbled into the bathroom.
And froze.
There, in the mirror, was someone I'd never seen before.
I reached out and touched the reflection's cheek. "Who the hell…?"
The guy staring back had long lashes, glossy dark hair, and a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. I squinted. I tilted my head. I made a stupid face.He did all of it too. No glitch.
"…I look hot," I said, horrified. "Like, second-lead-tragic-backstory hot."
Ding!
A screen blinked into view right in front of me, all blue and glowy:
[Hello, Host! I am System 222. In order to return to your original world, you must complete the story.]
"What? No. No thank you. Just send me back," I snapped.
The screen didn't budge. Instead, it shifted — now showing a hospital room. My hospital room.
I saw my own face. My real face. Hooked up to machines, unmoving. A flat expression. A weak pulse blinking on the monitor.
Then another message appeared.
[Oops! Host currently has no usable body in your world. But if you complete the mission, I'll restore it for you. Deal?]
I stared at it. "This is blackmail. This is actual emotional terrorism."
[Mission accepted! :)]
"I said nothing!"
A phone materialized in the air and dropped toward me. I barely caught it.
[You have 45 minutes before the protagonist enters. Use this time to learn your role. Good luck!]
And just like that, the screen vanished.
I stood there in stunned silence, holding the phone. "I'm going to sue someone. I don't know who yet, but someone."
Reluctantly, I unlocked the phone. The story opened in some web novel app. I Became the Hero's Rival, it said.
I began to read.
And hated every second of it.
Forty minutes later, I was lying facedown on the bed, screaming into the pillow.
"I was the best friend! The literal best friend! How the hell did I go from childhood companion to—what? Kidnapper? Villain? Killed by my own bestie?! What kind of plot twist is that?!"
I flipped over, arms sprawled. "This novel deserves one star. I hope it gets flagged for psychological damage."
A soft chime rang from the phone. 5 minutes left.
I stared at the ceiling.
"So I'm just here to die. Again. But this time, slower. With prettier hair."
Knock knock.
The door opened.
"Lotus!" a cheerful voice called. "You're
awake!"
I blinked.
There he was — the protagonist. Shiny golden hair, bright eyes, the literal embodiment of sunshine. He beamed at me like I was his favorite person in the entire world.
I sat up, dazed.
"…Disgusting," he muttered. "He's so wholesome. Who could betray this guy?"