The Villain Is My Sweetheart! [BL]

"Is it how he wants to end this?

Damn author—why did he have to kill my baby instead of those self-centered protagonists?" I muttered under my breath, my voice a mix of anger and disbelief.

The final chapter of Devil's Heart had just finished, and though I'd never considered myself overly sentimental, today, my eyes betrayed me. Tears welled up inexplicably as I closed the book, feeling an ache that went far beyond the printed pages.

As I sat on the bus, still reeling from the ending, I noticed the familiar coffee shop in the distance. I stood up and pressed the stop button. Stepping off the bus, I was immediately caught in a sudden downpour. Instead of running for cover as I usually would, I let the rain wash over me—it felt oddly comforting, like it understood my frustration. I walked slowly towards home, lost in my thoughts.

"Meow… Meow…" A soft cry broke through the steady rhythm of the rain. I glanced around and saw a stray cat, drenched and shivering, sitting on the roadside. Its eyes, a vivid green, caught my attention instantly—they were the exact same shade as my favorite character's. For a moment, I couldn't move; something about those eyes held me captive. 

Seeing the flashlight directed on his face, I don't know why, my legs moved its own. I never been a cat lover, then why?

Without an answer, the question hung on my mind.

My vision was blurred by pain and confusion as I saw my blood mixing with the rainwater on the road. And there, still watching me with those piercing green eyes, was the stray cat. I tried to call out, to ask for help, but the sound of distant voices—someone shouting "Ambulance!" and "Police!"—was muffled by the storm. My eyelids grew heavy, and soon darkness took over.

...

"Where am I?" That was the first question that shot through my mind as I gazed up at an unfamiliar ceiling. My eyes darted around the room, and my jaw dropped at the sight before me. The room was extravagant—far too luxurious to be a hospital. The plush, oversized bed made me think of how many months' salary it must have cost, and suddenly, the comfort of it felt strangely suffocating.

Wait… this doesn't look like a hospital room. Where exactly am I?

I pushed myself up from the bed, and as I turned toward the dressing table, my heart skipped a beat at the reflection staring back at me in the mirror.

"Who is this boy?" I wondered aloud.

The face in the mirror was unlike anything I recognized. He had ocean-like eyes, fair skin, and thick, jet-black hair. Is he an angel? So cute...

Did I somehow go back in time? But I didn't look like this at all… Then who is this?

Wait… did I transmigrate into a novel?

No, that's ridiculous.

It must be a dream… right?

Desperate for proof, I pinched myself. "Ahhh…" The sting was all too real.

Before I could gather my thoughts, the sound of breaking glass echoed from outside. Startled, I hurried to the door to check what was happening.

...

Downstairs, in the living room, a heated argument erupted between a blonde woman and a man, their raised voices filling the space. A young boy stood silently in the middle, watching the tense exchange. His long, unkempt hair obscured his face, but from his clothes alone, it was clear—he didn't belong to this household.

The oversized, worn-out white t-shirt hung loosely on his frail, almost skeletal frame, a stark contrast to the finely tailored, expensive attire worn by everyone else in the room.

"I can't believe you brought that b****'s son into our house!" Lisa's voice shook with fury, her eyes blazing with hatred as she glared at the boy. "I don't want to hear anything, Adam. Get this jinx out of my sight!"

"Lisa, please, try to understand," Adam said, his tone laced with patience. "He has nowhere else to go—"

As I listened to their argument, a realization struck me.

Adam… Lisa… I've heard these names before. But where?

Then it hit me—Devil's Heart!

Did I… transmigrate into that novel?

"He has nowhere to go?" Lisa scoffed bitterly. "What about his father? Isn't he still alive? Or…" A shadow of doubt flickered in her eyes. "Is it because we don't have a child of our own?"

Adam's expression hardened. "What are you saying? We have Aryan. He is our son." His words came without hesitation, firm and unyielding.

"Then why bring him here?" Lisa demanded, her voice breaking. "For what? Did you forget what his mother did to us? How can you—" Her rage spiraled out of control. With a sharp cry, she grabbed an empty teacup from the nearby table and hurled it at the boy.

Crash.

A sharp sting spread across the boy's forehead as the porcelain shattered on impact. A thin trail of blood trickled down his pale skin. But he didn't cry. He didn't even flinch. He simply stood there, unmoving, emotionless.

Lisa gasped, her breath hitching. Her anger vanished in an instant, replaced by horror. "No… no… I didn't mean to hurt him…" Her hands trembled as she stared at the blood. Panic seized her, and she began scratching her arms, her nails digging into her skin.

"Lisa!" Adam rushed to her side, gripping her wrists to stop her from harming herself. "Get her medicine, now!" he ordered the maids.

Without sparing the injured boy another glance, Adam led Lisa away, his focus entirely on his wife. The boy remained where he stood, blood still dripping down his face—forgotten.

The servants also who silently enjoyed the show walkaway right after it ends.

...

"What the f—"

I couldn't believe what I had just witnessed. How could grown adults be so cruel?

Abandoning an injured child—no matter who he was or what the circumstances were— it was simply inexcusable.

As someone who was an adult on the inside, I couldn't just stand by and ignore him. Without hesitation, I stepped forward.

"Huh… Doesn't it hurt?" I asked, gently pressing a handkerchief against his bleeding forehead. My brows furrowed in confusion—any normal child would be crying by now, but he stood there like a statue, utterly unshaken.

"Don't touch me!" Startled by the sudden contact, he shouted and shoved me back with all his strength.

And then… we both fell.

"Aaa—are you cra—" My frustration flared, but before I could snap, I caught a proper look at him. His small body was trembling, his hands clenched into fists, and the tears he had tried so hard to suppress were now falling freely.

He hastily wiped his eyes and lifted his head, finally looking at me.

That was the moment I saw them.

His eyes.

A pair of deep, unmistakable green eyes. Same as my favorite character. Then is he...