Chapter 1: Closet Monster

In a circle full of decadent, trust-fund playboys, Song Yubai was like a pristine snow lotus blooming in the wrong swamp: immaculate, brilliant, and obsessively self-disciplined. His emotional control was practically saintly; no one had ever seen him lose his cool. And then there was me—a textbook side character burdened with the classic ‘big chest, no brains, sharp tongue, and rotten heart’ combo. Naturally, I fell head over heels for him at first sight.

Facing my relentless pursuit, Yubai remained politely distant, turning me down cold every single time. I knew better than anyone that a calculating girl like me was at the top of his blacklist. According to the script, I was supposed to spend my life trying to seduce the male lead, framing the female lead, and ultimately meeting a gruesome end at the hands of a gang of thugs.

Luckily, I snapped back to reality just in time. Taking one last look at the breathtaking guy standing by the podium, I decided to let go.

Growing up, Yubai had never lacked female attention. His suitors were a diverse lineup, practically a fully stocked bar menu. But someone like Ji Qingran was definitely a rare breed. She had a gorgeous face and a killer body, but her flirtation tactics were so pathetic and foolish it left onlookers speechless. She thought she was playing it slick, but anyone with a working brain could see right through her before she even made it past step one.

To him, Ji Qingran was the definition of fake and vulgar. He used to think he would never let himself get tangled up with her. But life has a funny way of making you eat your words. The moment he accidentally brushed against her waist, feeling a softness that made him lose his mind—or tasted that sweet, cotton-candy flavor on her lips—he suddenly realized that her “fakeness” wasn’t really a dealbreaker after all.

Yet, when he actually made a move and asked her out, she turned him down. For the first time in his life, the universe’s golden boy tasted defeat. That bitter sensation hit a fever pitch when he saw her dancing intimately with another guy. Standing below the stage, watching them hold hands, the warmth in his eyes drained completely. If the gentle approach didn’t work, he’d just have to use force. Either way, he had no intention of letting her go.

The day I realized I was the villainess was the same day I was on my way to deliver a drink to Yubai. On the athletic field filled with heavy panting, he stood out effortlessly, lean muscle subtly defined beneath his frame. Blushing, I ran up to him, handing over the bottle in the sweetest voice I could muster:

“Yubai, I bought your favorite.”

His only response was a clipped, “Thanks, but I don’t need it.”

Right on cue, Chu Nuannuan—the main heroine and the person I despised the most—stepped forward with the exact same drink in her hand. In stark contrast to the cold shoulder he gave me, Yubai nonchalantly accepted hers and murmured a soft thank you. Surrounding us, mock whispers flared up, poking fun at my hopeless, two-year-long obsession.

I stood there, mortified and numb. But what hurt the most wasn’t the rejection itself; it was watching him accept care from someone else. I slunk back home like a hollow ghost, staring blankly at the ceiling.

That night, I dreamt I was the villainess in a trashy smut novel. Driven by jealousy, I relentlessly targeted Chu Nuannuan—Yubai’s destined lover. But every attempt ended in absolute disaster, doomed by what people call ‘fate and timing.’ In the end, the main leads lived happily ever after, while my family was ruined, and I was tortured to death.

I jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. It felt so terrifyingly real that I couldn’t even lie to myself that it was just a nightmare. Because right after that, reality started executing the script line by line: Chu Nuannuan transferred in, became his desk mate, and outshone everyone alongside him in every competition. Every single detail matched with terrifying precision.

It finally clicked: whenever I was around, she was there too, and whenever she was there, I was the one who lost. The plot armor of a main character was too blinding for an ordinary person like me to fight against. The thought of Yubai falling in love with her made me sob uncontrollably into my blanket.

But what terrified me most was my parents’ future. In the book, because of my stubborn obsession, my parents ended up on their knees begging for forgiveness, ultimately condemned to a tragic, disease-ridden old age. Looking at my mother’s worried face right now, my heart squeezed tight.

I might have loved Song Yubai, but my parents meant everything to me. My grand plan to “fairly compete” with Chu Nuannuan died right on the spot. When it came to my family, I wouldn’t risk even a fraction of a percent.

I was done.

During morning math class, Yubai went up to the board to solve a problem. Under the sunlight, his slender fingers holding the chalk looked like fine porcelain, his strokes flowing effortlessly across the slate. I stared at him without blinking. Even when he turned around and caught my eye, I didn’t look away.

Because I knew this was the absolute last time I’d ever allow myself to look at him like this. From now on, whatever was between us was dead and buried.

Yubai paused for a fraction of a second. He knew I liked him—a intense, desperate affection wrapped in a fake layer of timidity. I had never stared at him so openly before. But in my eyes today, that affection seemed buried deep beneath the surface, leaving behind only sorrow, longing, and a quiet, final resolve.

The teacher babbled on, but Yubai’s mind had gone entirely offline. Since the student in front of him was absent, all he had to do was lift his head to see the back of Ji Qingran’s neck. Sunlight filtered through the window pane, washing over her almost translucent skin, stinging his eyes just a little.

She gently tilted her head to stretch her tired neck. Yubai narrowed his eyes. It suddenly struck him that despite her somewhat flawed personality, her looks were undeniably top-tier. Fair skin, gorgeous face, tiny waist. And that long, smooth curve of her neck…

A dark, filthy thought crossed his mind: What if I bit it?

His body instantly went rigid. He licked his dry lips, his blood beginning to simmer. In a matter of seconds, a wave of dirty, explicit images played uninvited in his head.

Before today… how had he never realized she could make him feel so utterly filthy?