He emerged, a towel hung loosely around his waist, droplets of water trailing down his torso. His movements were unhurried, almost mechanical, as he dressed himself in crisp white jeans and a sky-blue shirt. He stood in front of the mirror for a long moment, his expression vacant, as though lost in thought—or perhaps, lost entirely.

  Eventually, Su Bai turned and walked to the bedside drawer, retrieving his phone. With careful precision, he booked an appointment at the hospital, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as he typed. The confirmation fshed on the screen, but it brought him some soce.

  He remained there for a while longer, standing in the stillness of the room, before a sudden thought interrupted his haze. **Food.** He hadn’t eaten.

  Descending the stairs the house was utterly silent, as if it had been abandoned. The emptiness pressed against him, a quiet reminder of how alone he truly was. Ignoring the ache in his chest, he made his way to the kitchen, opening cabinets and drawers until he found some vegetables.

  Washing them under cool running water, he worked methodically, as if each motion required conscious effort. His hands trembled slightly as he chopped the vegetables, the rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board grounding him in the moment. He tossed them into a pan, adding a touch of salt, soy sauce, and a dollop of gochujang paste. The scent of sizzling vegetables filled the air, rich and tantalizing.

  Once the vegetables had turned a crisp, golden-red, he added them to a pot of chicken stock, stirring gently. The soup bubbled and swirled, its aroma wrapping around him like a comforting embrace. While the soup simmered, he toasted a few slices of bread, the faint crackle of the toaster breaking the silence in the kitchen.

  The entire process took longer than it should have, his rusty, unfamiliar movements betraying his ck of yet accepting his rebirth. In the simplicity of the moment—washing, chopping, stirring—there was a quiet kind of soce. His body, though heavy with grief, seemed to respond to these small acts of care, as if acknowledging a long-forgotten happiness.

  When everything was ready, Su Bai poured the soup into a bowl and arranged the toasted bread on a pte. He carried them to the dining table, where the sunlight streaming through the window caught on the steam rising from the bowl. Sitting down, he stared at the meal in front of him.

  It wasn’t much. But for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Su Bai's face remained devoid of expression, yet his eyes held a quiet serenity, radiating a profound sense of peace and calm.

  Su Bai finished his meal in silence, the steam from the soup curling zily into the air. Once he had eaten his fill, he moved with precision, washing the dishes methodically, scrubbing the countertop until it gleamed. He left the kitchen as spotless as he had found it, his movements unhurried but deliberate, as though each small act was a ritual to recim control over his fractured world.

  Climbing the stairs, he stopped in front of the study—his husband's study. His hand lingered on the doorknob for a moment before he pushed it open. The faint scent of paper and ink greeted him, along with the cold stillness of a room rarely used for anything meaningful.

  Taking a deep breath, Su Bai stepped inside. His eyes scanned the pristine desk, his heart steady, his emotions numbed by the absurdity of it all. Walking up to the drawer, he paused, his lips curling into a bitter smirk. The password was ughably predictable—his brother’s birthday.

  Of course.

  After all, the man he had legally married wasn’t just his husband. He was the gong, the protagonist of this twisted world. And Su Bai? He was nothing but a tool—a disposable side character designed to amplify the brilliance of the protagonist shou.

  The irony wasn’t lost on him.

  Yes, absurd as it sounded, this world was a novel. A fictional story written by some brain-dead author on Jinjiang—an author whose greatest joy seemed to be wringing every ounce of suffering from his soul for their own twisted pleasure.

  This cursed novel begins with the protagonist shou’s miraculous rebirth in a different body, following his death from a terminal illness.

  In this new life, he was showered with love and care from everyone around him—his family, his friends, and of course, the tool man. That’s right, Su Bai. The so-called vilin of the story, the jealous older brother who was said to despise the shou since childhood.

  According to this twisted narrative, Su Bai was competitive to the point of cruelty, caring only about his own achievements while ignoring the frailty of his younger brother. And when the brother died, Su Bai supposedly crossed the final line, *snatching* his brother’s engagement partner as if it were his due.

  But fate, or rather the author of this ridiculous world, wouldn’t let Su Bai have his way. No, the protagonist shou was reborn, conveniently pced in a healthy body, armed with the memories of his tragic first life. He returned to the stage of their lives with a vengeance, effortlessly face-spping everyone who had wronged him.

  Piece by piece, he recimed what was “rightfully his.” His family, his social standing, even his fiancé—Gu Min. And he didn’t stop there. Slowly, methodically, he proved to everyone that he was the true darling of the group, their irrepceable favorite. He made it clear to Su Bai that nothing, *nothing,* could ever be stolen from him again.

  What a joke.

  Su Bai suppressed the storm brewing in his chest, forcing himself to remain calm. He reached into the drawer and took out the neatly prepared divorce agreement, setting it carefully on the table. For a long moment, he simply stared at the document, his expression bnk but his hands trembling ever so slightly.

  He couldn’t help but think back to Gu Min’s words, the ones spoken with such nauseating affection and possessiveness as he held Su Bai in a tight embrace:

  *"I prepared a divorce agreement, but only I can sign it. You’re mine, Su Bai. In this life, I will never let you go."*

  He really believed it but why would anyone even prepare divorce agreement, hah

  What a cruel, twisted promise. What an absolute farce.

  Su Bai let out a bitter ugh, though it sounded more like a choked sob. His trembling fingers picked up the pen, hovering over the paper. Slowly, deliberately, he began to sign his name. Each stroke of the pen felt like carving a piece of his soul away. Bit by bit, his name took shape on the page, and with it, the weight of his decision pressed down on him.

  When he finished, Su Bai slumped back into his chair, breathing heavily as though he had just completed an insurmountable task. His chest heaved, but his heart felt… lighter.

  Finally.

  Finally, he could be free.

  He looked at the document one st time, his gaze steady now, unwavering. Whoever wanted this husband, this *gong,* could take him. Su Bai was done. He wanted no part of this ridiculous drama anymore.

  Su Bai gnced at the divorce agreement one st time before leaving it on the table. Without a second thought, he turned and walked upstairs, his steps steady but unhurried. He needed to pack.

  Not that he had much to take with him.

  After all, his marriage to Gu Min had been hastily arranged—a business transaction born from the Su Group’s desperate need for funds. He had been sent to Gu Min like a pawn, an offering to seal a deal. Freaking ridiculous. But this was the world of a novel, and in this absurd story, practicality often trumped reason.

  Before the marriage, he had even mustered the courage to ask Gu Min directly: “Are you doing this out of obligation? Or is there another reason?”

  Gu Min’s answer had been clear, unwavering. “I like you.”

  Su Bai had heard every word, remembered them all as if they were etched into his bones. For a fleeting moment, he had dared to believe in them, in the possibility that this marriage might hold something real.

  But no one else saw it that way. To the world, Su Bai was nothing more than the despicable brother who had stolen his sibling’s childhood sweetheart.

  He closed his eyes, suppressing the turmoil in his chest. Calm down, he told himself, taking slow, deep breaths. His hand instinctively went to his stomach, and he gently rubbed it in slow circles as he repeated a single word in his mind: Baby. Baby.

  The thought of his unborn child—small, fragile, and innocent—finally steadied him. The child who had not even been given a chance to live in his previous life. Su Bai’s lips pressed into a firm line. This time, he would protect his baby at all costs.

  He packed quickly, gathering the few belongings that were truly his into a single, worn duffel bag. As he zipped it shut, his eyes lingered on the room. He had lived in this house for two years, after all. Two long, suffocating years.

  There was a heaviness in his chest as he took one st gnce around the house. The memories—both bitter and fleetingly sweet—threatened to overwhelm him. But he shook them off. There was no room for sentimentality now.

  Before leaving, Su Bai sat down at the desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. His hand trembled as he wrote, pouring everything he needed to say into his final words.

  "I am leaving, as you all wished.

  Now you can live here in peace, without me as an eyesore.

  Mr. Gu and Mrs. Gu, I apologize for disrupting your lives, and of course, for wasting your son’s time. But don’t worry—my brother will return from the dead to show you his ‘true love.’

  I only ask for one thing: please do not disturb me from this point on, just as I will no longer disturb you. I wish your family a prosperous and happy future.

  —Su Bai”

  The thin piece of paper, weighted down beneath a gss paperweight, rested on the desk. A faint breeze drifted through the room, ruffling its edges in the cold, lonely house.

  Su Bai picked up his bag and left without an ounce of hesitation. His steps were firm, resolute, as he clenched his fists tightly.

  He had no intention of looking back.

  He wasn’t just leaving a house or a marriage—he was leaving behind an entire world that revolved around the two protagonists and their perfect, all-consuming love. A world where there was no pce for a tool man like him, and certainly no space for his child.

  But Su Bai would make space.

  He would carve out a life where his baby could be born, could live and thrive. Somewhere far away from this twisted narrative.

  And with that thought, Su Bai walked out the door.