What Y/N described, or what defined his life and fate.
Really, what kind of life had he been living for twenty years?
Always holed up in his dark room, the kind he always liked: the comfortable darkness of the cold night, and the peaceful serenity before sleep.
The kind of darkness in his room that lingered for days, weeks, years because the curtains remained shut. Thick blankets covered the windows, as if he had blocked the outside world completely. Dust gathered in forgotten corners while the scent of rotten instant noodles permeates around the room.
Additionally, crisp, hardened socks were thrown all over the room, adding revulsion to the sight. Any sane person would wither at the sight.
Except for Y/N. This was his sanctuary, his haven away from the incessant pressure. He wouldn't even leave this place. Heck, he couldn't even remember the last time sunlight had touched his skin. Maybe it had been months, or even longer.
Y/N's days blended together in an endless cycle. Wake up, scroll through his phone, eat whatever cheap processed food he could find. Sleep and repeat.
He lived in his parents' house despite being old enough to move out years ago.
He's afraid of leaving what he's used to; he knows for a fact that the world outside felt distant, completely inane. People his age were graduating, getting jobs, falling in love, losing their virginity, and building families.
Meanwhile, Y/N didn't have any games. Could a guy struggling to leave his bed make someone orgasm?
Obviously not. He'd just make a fool of himself.
And eventually, his loving parents deserted him. They stopped asking what his plans were. They stopped asking if he was okay, they learned that every conversation ended with the same silence. So they gave up, and Y/N couldn't blame them.
Instead, he was thankful they didn't throw him out of the house to become a homeless man on the street. Y/N had given up on himself long before they did, so his parents thought he might die and wither away if they threw him out.
The only light that shone in Y/N's dull, lifeless eyes came from a monitor that never turned off.
His life still had a purpose, and that was to consume every interesting piece of media he could find.
Anime, manga, manhwa, and the final boss of them all were light novels.
Anything that could distract him from reality. Anything that could make him forget how empty he felt.
As cringe as it sounded, his life revolved around them. The stories became his world.
Some nights, he laughed with them as if he were part of their team. Other nights, he cried for them as though he had known them since infancy.
He celebrated their victories, mourned their deaths, and waited eagerly for every new chapter. Their struggles felt more real to him than anything happening outside his room. At some point, the line between fiction and reality began to blur.
And among countless protagonists, heroes, and villains, one person stood above all others.
None other than the protagonist of Return of the Mount Hua Sect.
Chung Myung.
The Plum Blossom Sword Saint who laughed in the face of impossible odds. The man who refused to stay down no matter how many times life kicked him into the dirt.
Y/N admired him, envied him, and loved him. Every reckless grin those loud laughs. Even the shameless scheme he made. He felt every emotion simply by watching him.
At first, Y/N thought he was merely using Chung Myung as a self insert. After all, Chung Myung possessed everything Y/N lacked. The confidence, overwhelming strength and a purpose.
The will to keep moving forward no matter how painful life became.
Y/N spent years rotting away in his room, Chung Myung charged headfirst into every obstacle without hesitation. While Y/N avoided people, Chung Myung attracted everyone around him into his battle and somehow made them better for it.
The difference between them was so vast it was laughable, yet Y/N couldn't stop looking.
Sometimes, while rereading Return of the Mount Hua Sect for the hundredth time, he imagined what it would be like to meet him.
To hear that loud voice in person, see that shit irritating grin with his own eyes. To watch him eat, drink, laugh, and complain.
Stand close beside him, to exist within his vicinity. It was a stupid fantasy, a pathetic fantasy.
A normal person would've grown out of it years ago. But Y/N had nothing else, no dreams or ambitions. Or the future he looked forward to.
The stories became his escape, and Chung Myung became the brightest part of that escapism. So he kept reading, again…
And again…
And again…
Until he could practically recite entire chapters from memory. He knew every victory, every tragedy, every scar, and every expression.
Y/N admiration gradually twisted into something ugly close to obsession.
And oh...It made him happy, far too happy.
Happiness was an uncommon thing in Y/N's life, so rare that whenever he found even a fragment of it, he clung to it with desperate hands.
Y/N enjoyed reading about Chung Myung. Whenever a new chapter was released, he read it immediately. Whenever an official illustration appeared, he saved it. Whenever someone criticized Chung Myung online, he found himself defending a fictional character with more passion than he had ever shown for anything in real life.
He had even harassed a commenter once for typing some bullshit about how Chung Myung was mid because he acted "too gay." for avoiding Tang Soso.
Y/N replied in the most normal and ethical way possible.
"Go kill yourself."
He got banned from Webtoon after that.
Could anyone really blame him?
He'd do anything for his beloved husband.
His phone wallpaper became Chung Myung. His desktop wallpaper became Chung Myung. His profile pictures became Chung Myung.
Soon, every corner of his room contained some trace of him. Posters, printed illustrations, screenshots. Entire folders dedicated to fan art.
And secret folders filled with NSFW artwork of Chung Myung, including commissions he had paid artists to draw.
Y/N knew it was ridiculous but he didn't care in the slightest.
What else did he have?
When he was sad, he reread Return of the Mount Hua Sect. When he was lonely, he imagined conversations with Chung Myung.
On nights when he couldn't sleep, he listened to character playlists and pictured the swordsman sitting beside him.
The line between comfort and obsession blurred so gradually that Y/N never noticed when it happened.
Days became weeks, weeks became months. Sometimes he would stare at official artwork for hours without realizing how much time had passed.
His fingers would brush across the screen absentmindedly, tracing the familiar grin. Admiring Chung Myung's sharp eyes. That confident smile present in nearly every illustration.
The expression that looked as if the entire world existed purely to entertain him.
A warmth would settle in Y/N's chest whenever he looked at him. The kind of warmth he had never felt around real people. Perhaps that was the saddest part.
A fictional man had become more important to him than anyone. And Y/N was perfectly okay with that.
At night, lying alone in bed, Y/N often found himself lost in fantasies. He often found himself using another sock, touching himself moaning and groaning his name.
"Ahn...Chung Myung..."
He imagined scenarios of what it would be like if Chung Myung actually existed.
Would he like him? Would someone like Chung Myung, someone so confident and full of life, ever look at someone like Y/N and accept him? Touch him down there and pleasure him like he would in those self insert arts he commissioned artists for?
Would he see past all his flaws and recognize him for who he truly was?
What if he could meet him? What if someone like that looked at him and actually saw him?
Not the disappointment his parents saw.
Or the failure he saw whenever he looked into the mirror, just Y/N.
Those thoughts became a nightly habit. An unhealthy ritual he repeated again and again.
The darkness of his room felt less lonely when he imagined a voice beside him. When he listened to the ASMRs he had commissioned solely for Chung Myung, pretending that the voice belonged to the person he admired more than anyone else.
Sometimes, Y/N would wake up and instinctively reach for his phone before even opening his eyes.
Just to look at another picture, to reread another chapter. To feel that small spark of happiness again.
It was pathetic. He knew how ridiculous it looked from the outside, but he couldn't stop.
It was like a drug he had created for himself, something he depended on just to get through another day.
Yet he no longer cared, the real world had given him nothing.
Meanwhile, Chung Myung made him laugh, made him smile, and made him feel so alive. Y/N began centering his entire existence around that feeling.
A fictional man became the brightest thing in his life. The only warmth left inside his dying heart.
And as the years passed, Y/N stopped wishing he could become like Chung Myung.
Instead, he began wishing for something far more impossible. To belong in Chung Myung's world. Someone worth remembering and someone worth loving.
A foolish dream, an impossible, unattainable dream.
Who would devote themselves so deeply to a fictional character?
Yet, somehow, it was the last dream Y/N had left.
--------------------
Y/N threw the soiled socks onto the floor again after the overwhelming rush of pleasure had passed. He stared down at the three used socks scattered across his carpet.
"I might've overdone it again."
He let out a sigh, fixed his pants, and stared at his phone. His eyes remained fixed on Chung Myung's figure displayed on the screen.
"So perfect... I can't even get through my days without fapping to you."
That was simply a fact about him.
Before he even started his day, Chung Myung was the first thing on his mind. Even before he went to sleep, he found himself returning to the same thoughts, the same fantasies that made his empty life feel a little less hollow.
Y/N stretched his body while lying on his bed, letting out a quiet groan. He rested his arms over his forehead and stared blankly at the ceiling.
For a moment, dark thoughts entered his mind. Thoughts about ending everything.
But then his stomach growled, hunger was enough to pull him back.
With a tired sigh, Y/N sat up and began rummaging through the pile of unopened ramen packages he had ordered online.
He opened the box and looked inside, only one package remained.
"I should order a new batch."
A small smile appeared on his face when he remembered that his favorite ramen brand had released a new flavor. He was sure to buy it next time using his parents' money.
Y/N grabbed the last ramen and took a deep breath while walking toward the door. The hardest mission he had ever faced.
Leaving his room.
He slowly opened the door, stepping outside while carefully closing it behind him. He was afraid of catching his parents' attention.
The moment Y/N stepped out of his room, he immediately regretted it.
The bright hallway light burned his eyes after spending so long surrounded by darkness. He ignored the discomfort and headed straight toward the kitchen.
His stomach was growling, and there was nothing left to eat except another pack of instant noodles.
He filled a pot with water and placed it on the stove. As he waited for it to boil, voices drifted in from the living room.
His parents had finally taken notice of the squatter living among them. At first, Y/N ignored them.
But then he heard his name.
"Did he seriously just wake up?"
His father's voice sounded annoyed.
Y/N kept staring at the water.
"He spends all day locked in that room and only comes out to eat."
His mother let out a tired sigh.
"I don't even know what to do with him anymore."
"What happened to him? Look at him. No job. No friends. No future."
Y/N's expression didn't change. He had heard it all before, the words weren't new anymore.
He was more focused on waiting for the water to boil.
"He wasn't always like this."
"Well, he is now."
A bitter laugh followed.
"I swear, all he does is stare at that character. What was his name again? Ching Mun?"
"Chung Myung, honey."
"Ah, whatever. He spends so much money on that nonsense."
"We'd have fewer problems if he put that energy into finding a job."
Y/N gritted his teeth, Instead of retaliating, he forced himself to calm down. He opened the noodle packet and poured it into the pot.
The conversation continued behind him.
Neither of them bothered lowering their voices. Maybe they wanted him to hear or they simply didn't care.
Either way, Y/N was too exhausted to react even if he just woke up.
The noodles finished cooking. He poured them into a bowl, mixed in the seasoning, and immediately headed upstairs.
"See? There he goes again."
He heard his father mutter as he walked away.
Y/N didn't answer, he didn't even look back.
The moment he stepped into his room and shut the door behind him, the tension in his chest finally eased.
This was his world: dark curtains covered the windows, blocking out the outside world completely. The only light came from his monitor and on the screen was Chung Myung.
Y/N smiled without realizing it, the smile felt more genuine than anything he had shown his parents in years.
He sat down in front of the computer and opened the latest chapter while eating.
As expected, Chung Myung was causing trouble again.
Y/N laughed fondly.
"Idiot."
The word was filled with nothing but affection.
He continued reading while shoveling noodles into his mouth, his eyes never leaving the screen.
One bite.
"That old guy is annoying!"
Another bite.
"Hehe, Chung Myung is so smart for that."
Another.
"Wait, that's it–guhk!"
Suddenly, something got caught in his throat.
Y/N frowned and coughed It wasn't unusual. This happened all the time since he always talked while eating.
Hurriedly reaching for his drink, he accidentally pushed his phone down. The coughing only became harsher. His chest tightened, feeling as if a thorny wire was wrapping around it.
After chugging down the water, it did nothing. A flash of panic crossed his face.
Y/N tried taking a breath, his eyes widened as his panic quickly increased, causing his hands to shake.
Crash!
The bowl slipped from his hands and shattered against the floor. The noodles scattered across the carpet.
Y/N stumbled to his feet, clutching his throat.
There was no air…
He couldn't get any air!!
It wasn't the noodles anymore, It felt like something much stronger, like a pair of massive hands gripping his neck, squeezing tighter and tighter.
His lungs burned, he tried coughing harder, but nothing came out.
'Ah... no...'
His vision blurred, his legs grew weak and the room spun around him.
Downstairs, he could still faintly hear the television. His parents were probably still sitting there laughing amongst themselves. Neither of them knew what was happening.
Y/N dropped to his knees, his hands shaking violently as he desperately tried to breathe.
The darkness around the edges of his vision slowly spread. His heart pounded so hard it hurt.
No.
No, no, no!
Not like this.
Anything but this.
His gaze drifted downward toward his phone. The familiar figure is still displayed on the screen, his Chung Myung was laughing.
'What a sight...'
Y/N stared at him as his consciousness began to fade. A weak, almost pathetic smile appeared on his face.
Even now, he was looking at Chung Myung.
How ridiculous.
His body collapsed onto the floor, the last thing he saw was the screen glowing in the darkness.
His final coherent thought was:
'At least... I died looking at Chung Myung's face...'
What Y/N described, or what defined his life and fate.
Really, what kind of life had he been living for twenty years?
Always holed up in his dark room, the kind he always liked: the comfortable darkness of the cold night, and the peaceful serenity before sleep.
The kind of darkness in his room that lingered for days, weeks, years because the curtains remained shut. Thick blankets covered the windows, as if he had blocked the outside world completely. Dust gathered in forgotten corners while the scent of rotten instant noodles permeates around the room.
Additionally, crisp, hardened socks were thrown all over the room, adding revulsion to the sight. Any sane person would wither at the sight.
Except for Y/N. This was his sanctuary, his haven away from the incessant pressure. He wouldn't even leave this place. Heck, he couldn't even remember the last time sunlight had touched his skin. Maybe it had been months, or even longer.
Y/N's days blended together in an endless cycle. Wake up, scroll through his phone, eat whatever cheap processed food he could find. Sleep and repeat.
He lived in his parents' house despite being old enough to move out years ago.
He's afraid of leaving what he's used to; he knows for a fact that the world outside felt distant, completely inane. People his age were graduating, getting jobs, falling in love, losing their virginity, and building families.
Meanwhile, Y/N didn't have any games. Could a guy struggling to leave his bed make someone orgasm?
Obviously not. He'd just make a fool of himself.
And eventually, his loving parents deserted him. They stopped asking what his plans were. They stopped asking if he was okay, they learned that every conversation ended with the same silence. So they gave up, and Y/N couldn't blame them.
Instead, he was thankful they didn't throw him out of the house to become a homeless man on the street. Y/N had given up on himself long before they did, so his parents thought he might die and wither away if they threw him out.
The only light that shone in Y/N's dull, lifeless eyes came from a monitor that never turned off.
His life still had a purpose, and that was to consume every interesting piece of media he could find.
Anime, manga, manhwa, and the final boss of them all were light novels.
Anything that could distract him from reality. Anything that could make him forget how empty he felt.
As cringe as it sounded, his life revolved around them. The stories became his world.
Some nights, he laughed with them as if he were part of their team. Other nights, he cried for them as though he had known them since infancy.
He celebrated their victories, mourned their deaths, and waited eagerly for every new chapter. Their struggles felt more real to him than anything happening outside his room. At some point, the line between fiction and reality began to blur.
And among countless protagonists, heroes, and villains, one person stood above all others.
None other than the protagonist of Return of the Mount Hua Sect.
Chung Myung.
The Plum Blossom Sword Saint who laughed in the face of impossible odds. The man who refused to stay down no matter how many times life kicked him into the dirt.
Y/N admired him, envied him, and loved him. Every reckless grin those loud laughs. Even the shameless scheme he made. He felt every emotion simply by watching him.
At first, Y/N thought he was merely using Chung Myung as a self insert. After all, Chung Myung possessed everything Y/N lacked. The confidence, overwhelming strength and a purpose.
The will to keep moving forward no matter how painful life became.
Y/N spent years rotting away in his room, Chung Myung charged headfirst into every obstacle without hesitation. While Y/N avoided people, Chung Myung attracted everyone around him into his battle and somehow made them better for it.
The difference between them was so vast it was laughable, yet Y/N couldn't stop looking.
Sometimes, while rereading Return of the Mount Hua Sect for the hundredth time, he imagined what it would be like to meet him.
To hear that loud voice in person, see that shit irritating grin with his own eyes. To watch him eat, drink, laugh, and complain.
Stand close beside him, to exist within his vicinity. It was a stupid fantasy, a pathetic fantasy.
A normal person would've grown out of it years ago. But Y/N had nothing else, no dreams or ambitions. Or the future he looked forward to.
The stories became his escape, and Chung Myung became the brightest part of that escapism. So he kept reading, again…
And again…
And again…
Until he could practically recite entire chapters from memory. He knew every victory, every tragedy, every scar, and every expression.
Y/N admiration gradually twisted into something ugly close to obsession.
And oh...It made him happy, far too happy.
Happiness was an uncommon thing in Y/N's life, so rare that whenever he found even a fragment of it, he clung to it with desperate hands.
Y/N enjoyed reading about Chung Myung. Whenever a new chapter was released, he read it immediately. Whenever an official illustration appeared, he saved it. Whenever someone criticized Chung Myung online, he found himself defending a fictional character with more passion than he had ever shown for anything in real life.
He had even harassed a commenter once for typing some bullshit about how Chung Myung was mid because he acted "too gay." for avoiding Tang Soso.
Y/N replied in the most normal and ethical way possible.
"Go kill yourself."
He got banned from Webtoon after that.
Could anyone really blame him?
He'd do anything for his beloved husband.
His phone wallpaper became Chung Myung. His desktop wallpaper became Chung Myung. His profile pictures became Chung Myung.
Soon, every corner of his room contained some trace of him. Posters, printed illustrations, screenshots. Entire folders dedicated to fan art.
And secret folders filled with NSFW artwork of Chung Myung, including commissions he had paid artists to draw.
Y/N knew it was ridiculous but he didn't care in the slightest.
What else did he have?
When he was sad, he reread Return of the Mount Hua Sect. When he was lonely, he imagined conversations with Chung Myung.
On nights when he couldn't sleep, he listened to character playlists and pictured the swordsman sitting beside him.
The line between comfort and obsession blurred so gradually that Y/N never noticed when it happened.
Days became weeks, weeks became months. Sometimes he would stare at official artwork for hours without realizing how much time had passed.
His fingers would brush across the screen absentmindedly, tracing the familiar grin. Admiring Chung Myung's sharp eyes. That confident smile present in nearly every illustration.
The expression that looked as if the entire world existed purely to entertain him.
A warmth would settle in Y/N's chest whenever he looked at him. The kind of warmth he had never felt around real people. Perhaps that was the saddest part.
A fictional man had become more important to him than anyone. And Y/N was perfectly okay with that.
At night, lying alone in bed, Y/N often found himself lost in fantasies. He often found himself using another sock, touching himself moaning and groaning his name.
"Ahn...Chung Myung..."
He imagined scenarios of what it would be like if Chung Myung actually existed.
Would he like him? Would someone like Chung Myung, someone so confident and full of life, ever look at someone like Y/N and accept him? Touch him down there and pleasure him like he would in those self insert arts he commissioned artists for?
Would he see past all his flaws and recognize him for who he truly was?
What if he could meet him? What if someone like that looked at him and actually saw him?
Not the disappointment his parents saw.
Or the failure he saw whenever he looked into the mirror, just Y/N.
Those thoughts became a nightly habit. An unhealthy ritual he repeated again and again.
The darkness of his room felt less lonely when he imagined a voice beside him. When he listened to the ASMRs he had commissioned solely for Chung Myung, pretending that the voice belonged to the person he admired more than anyone else.
Sometimes, Y/N would wake up and instinctively reach for his phone before even opening his eyes.
Just to look at another picture, to reread another chapter. To feel that small spark of happiness again.
It was pathetic. He knew how ridiculous it looked from the outside, but he couldn't stop.
It was like a drug he had created for himself, something he depended on just to get through another day.
Yet he no longer cared, the real world had given him nothing.
Meanwhile, Chung Myung made him laugh, made him smile, and made him feel so alive. Y/N began centering his entire existence around that feeling.
A fictional man became the brightest thing in his life. The only warmth left inside his dying heart.
And as the years passed, Y/N stopped wishing he could become like Chung Myung.
Instead, he began wishing for something far more impossible. To belong in Chung Myung's world. Someone worth remembering and someone worth loving.
A foolish dream, an impossible, unattainable dream.
Who would devote themselves so deeply to a fictional character?
Yet, somehow, it was the last dream Y/N had left.
--------------------
Y/N threw the soiled socks onto the floor again after the overwhelming rush of pleasure had passed. He stared down at the three used socks scattered across his carpet.
"I might've overdone it again."
He let out a sigh, fixed his pants, and stared at his phone. His eyes remained fixed on Chung Myung's figure displayed on the screen.
"So perfect... I can't even get through my days without fapping to you."
That was simply a fact about him.
Before he even started his day, Chung Myung was the first thing on his mind. Even before he went to sleep, he found himself returning to the same thoughts, the same fantasies that made his empty life feel a little less hollow.
Y/N stretched his body while lying on his bed, letting out a quiet groan. He rested his arms over his forehead and stared blankly at the ceiling.
For a moment, dark thoughts entered his mind. Thoughts about ending everything.
But then his stomach growled, hunger was enough to pull him back.
With a tired sigh, Y/N sat up and began rummaging through the pile of unopened ramen packages he had ordered online.
He opened the box and looked inside, only one package remained.
"I should order a new batch."
A small smile appeared on his face when he remembered that his favorite ramen brand had released a new flavor. He was sure to buy it next time using his parents' money.
Y/N grabbed the last ramen and took a deep breath while walking toward the door. The hardest mission he had ever faced.
Leaving his room.
He slowly opened the door, stepping outside while carefully closing it behind him. He was afraid of catching his parents' attention.
The moment Y/N stepped out of his room, he immediately regretted it.
The bright hallway light burned his eyes after spending so long surrounded by darkness. He ignored the discomfort and headed straight toward the kitchen.
His stomach was growling, and there was nothing left to eat except another pack of instant noodles.
He filled a pot with water and placed it on the stove. As he waited for it to boil, voices drifted in from the living room.
His parents had finally taken notice of the squatter living among them. At first, Y/N ignored them.
But then he heard his name.
"Did he seriously just wake up?"
His father's voice sounded annoyed.
Y/N kept staring at the water.
"He spends all day locked in that room and only comes out to eat."
His mother let out a tired sigh.
"I don't even know what to do with him anymore."
"What happened to him? Look at him. No job. No friends. No future."
Y/N's expression didn't change. He had heard it all before, the words weren't new anymore.
He was more focused on waiting for the water to boil.
"He wasn't always like this."
"Well, he is now."
A bitter laugh followed.
"I swear, all he does is stare at that character. What was his name again? Ching Mun?"
"Chung Myung, honey."
"Ah, whatever. He spends so much money on that nonsense."
"We'd have fewer problems if he put that energy into finding a job."
Y/N gritted his teeth, Instead of retaliating, he forced himself to calm down. He opened the noodle packet and poured it into the pot.
The conversation continued behind him.
Neither of them bothered lowering their voices. Maybe they wanted him to hear or they simply didn't care.
Either way, Y/N was too exhausted to react even if he just woke up.
The noodles finished cooking. He poured them into a bowl, mixed in the seasoning, and immediately headed upstairs.
"See? There he goes again."
He heard his father mutter as he walked away.
Y/N didn't answer, he didn't even look back.
The moment he stepped into his room and shut the door behind him, the tension in his chest finally eased.
This was his world: dark curtains covered the windows, blocking out the outside world completely. The only light came from his monitor and on the screen was Chung Myung.
Y/N smiled without realizing it, the smile felt more genuine than anything he had shown his parents in years.
He sat down in front of the computer and opened the latest chapter while eating.
As expected, Chung Myung was causing trouble again.
Y/N laughed fondly.
"Idiot."
The word was filled with nothing but affection.
He continued reading while shoveling noodles into his mouth, his eyes never leaving the screen.
One bite.
"That old guy is annoying!"
Another bite.
"Hehe, Chung Myung is so smart for that."
Another.
"Wait, that's it–guhk!"
Suddenly, something got caught in his throat.
Y/N frowned and coughed It wasn't unusual. This happened all the time since he always talked while eating.
Hurriedly reaching for his drink, he accidentally pushed his phone down. The coughing only became harsher. His chest tightened, feeling as if a thorny wire was wrapping around it.
After chugging down the water, it did nothing. A flash of panic crossed his face.
Y/N tried taking a breath, his eyes widened as his panic quickly increased, causing his hands to shake.
Crash!
The bowl slipped from his hands and shattered against the floor. The noodles scattered across the carpet.
Y/N stumbled to his feet, clutching his throat.
There was no air…
He couldn't get any air!!
It wasn't the noodles anymore, It felt like something much stronger, like a pair of massive hands gripping his neck, squeezing tighter and tighter.
His lungs burned, he tried coughing harder, but nothing came out.
'Ah... no...'
His vision blurred, his legs grew weak and the room spun around him.
Downstairs, he could still faintly hear the television. His parents were probably still sitting there laughing amongst themselves. Neither of them knew what was happening.
Y/N dropped to his knees, his hands shaking violently as he desperately tried to breathe.
The darkness around the edges of his vision slowly spread. His heart pounded so hard it hurt.
No.
No, no, no!
Not like this.
Anything but this.
His gaze drifted downward toward his phone. The familiar figure is still displayed on the screen, his Chung Myung was laughing.
'What a sight...'
Y/N stared at him as his consciousness began to fade. A weak, almost pathetic smile appeared on his face.
Even now, he was looking at Chung Myung.
How ridiculous.
His body collapsed onto the floor, the last thing he saw was the screen glowing in the darkness.
His final coherent thought was:
'At least... I died looking at Chung Myung's face...'
It's coming up this month . My smut writing has a looong cooldown bfr I get into it, but dw , I already have ideas for it. Im tryna make it like something you won't expect. Well, there will be banging, but im sprinkling some of my stuff
I forgot to note that I also write scenes from the novel, and the dialogue are different from the webtoon since I dont read there anymore the translation is so ass I moved to a different translators
- fun fact Yin Yue never liked animals because of a certain someone. So expect a slightly not good first impression with Baek Ah. And speaking of Baek Ah, I have so many plans for the beast palace arc, adding more lore to Yin Yue life, new information that'll change everything, and also a peculiar spirit beast👀👀
Art sneak peak for the 100 years ago chap coming out tomorrow, I plan to seperate the past chapters of my PAB fic so I can easily recall what happened lmao
turnnoffyourmind
areudirty
prguitarman
germansingergirl
theartofmadeline
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
yousharknotpass