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Lee Minho lived the kind of life people forgot.

He wasn’t popular.

He wasn’t bullied.

He wasn’t special.

He woke up at 7:00 a.m., went to university, came home, played games, scrolled through his phone, and slept. His biggest daily crisis was deciding what to eat for dinner.

Average. Completely average.

Until the day he died.

It wasn’t dramatic. No truck. No explosion. Just darkness after a quiet night.

And then—

He woke up.

But not in his bed.

He was lying on silk sheets in a massive room with golden curtains and a chandelier dripping crystals from the ceiling.

“…What?”

A maid screamed.

“Young master Lee Minho?!”

Young master?

Minho shot up and rushed to the mirror.

The face staring back at him wasn’t his. It was sharper. Prettier. Silver hair. Red eyes. The kind of face that screamed antagonist.

And then the memories hit him.

This world.

This body.

This story.

He had been reincarnated into the novel he read three months ago.

Not as the protagonist.

Not as a side character.

But as the villain.

Kang Jaeheon.

The beautiful, cruel noble who bullied the protagonist, sabotaged the main leads, and eventually met a brutal execution.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Jaeheon was hated by everyone in the novel.

Especially the three male leads.

Lee Hyunwoo—the Crown Prince.

Park Jisoo—the Grand Mage.

Choi Seojin—the Commander of the Royal Guard.

All three were obsessed with the original protagonist.

And all three despised Jaeheon.

Or at least…

That’s how the story was supposed to go.

The first sign something was wrong happened at breakfast.

Lee Hyunwoo—normally cold and aloof—grabbed Minho’s wrist when he tried to leave.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the prince asked softly.

Too softly.

“…To class?” Minho answered cautiously.

The prince’s grip tightened.

“Without telling me?”

Telling him what???

In the novel, the Crown Prince barely tolerated Jaeheon. Now his golden eyes were dark, possessive.

“I don’t like it when you disappear.”

“…I—since when do you care?”

The prince’s thumb brushed his pulse.

“Since always.”

It got worse.

Park Jisoo cornered him in the library.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” the mage said calmly, though the air crackled with restrained power.

“I—have not?”

The mage leaned close, silver hair brushing Minho’s shoulder.

“If you look at anyone else the way you used to look at me…”

Used to?

In the novel, Jaeheon constantly mocked the mage.

Now Jisoo’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“I’ll burn the world down.”

And Choi Seojin?

He knelt in front of Minho one evening after training.

“Order me,” the commander said, eyes fierce. “I’ll cut down anyone who makes you uncomfortable.”

This was the same man who executed Jaeheon in the original ending.

Minho’s brain short-circuited.

This wasn’t the plot.

This wasn’t right.

He locked himself in his room that night and thought it through.

In the original novel:

Jaeheon bullied the protagonist.

The three male leads protected the protagonist.

Jaeheon died.

But now?

The protagonist hadn’t even approached the male leads.

Because they were too busy watching him.

Following him.

Fighting each other over him.

Obsessed with him.

“…Did I reincarnate into the wrong genre?” Minho muttered.

Instead of a revenge tragedy, this felt like a dangerously unhinged romance.

The worst part?

They weren’t just protective.

They were possessive.

If a servant stood too close, they were “politely warned.”

If another noble complimented him, they were “politely warned.”

If he tried to distance himself, their expressions darkened in ways that made his spine shiver.

He was supposed to be the villain.

So why did it feel like he was the prize?

One evening, all three of them confronted each other in his study.

The air was suffocating.

“He belongs to the crown,” Lee Hyunwoo said coldly.

“He belongs where he’s happiest,” Park Jisoo replied, magic swirling.

Choi Seojin stepped in front of Minho. “He belongs nowhere he doesn’t choose.”

Three of the most powerful men in the empire.

Arguing over him.

Minho slowly raised his hand.

“…I belong to myself.”

Silence.

Three pairs of intense eyes turned to him.

For the first time since he arrived in this world, Minho didn’t feel like a side character in someone else’s story.

Maybe he was the villain.

Maybe the plot had changed.

But if these so-called male leads thought they could cage him like some fragile treasure—

They were about to learn something.

Villains don’t get captured.

They rewrite the ending.

And this time—

He would be the one everyone was obsessed with.

Not because the story demanded it.

But because he chose it.

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