I possessed a regret-porn novel where the male lead flails around dramatically in regret.
“You’re not like Anette, whose heels are pink.”
And I became his sickly first love and ex-girlfriend—someone he gaslights for sport.
True to the nuisance that he is, once the regret begins, he starts “atoning” to the female lead by systematically destroying each of his ex-girlfriends. Especially Anette, his first love, who gets married off to an aging border marquis and dies shortly after.
Yeah, I’m not planning on dying like that, thanks.
Before I officially start dating the male lead, while he’s busy falling for me on his own, I try every method possible to shake off the clingy crown prince.
“My lovely Anette, are you playing hard to get on purpose?”
Instead, it only backfires, and his obsession grows even worse.
Time to change the plan. I’ll marry just anyone to get rid of him.
“I will be your wife.”
I managed to get married. And just like that, I shook off the rolling-pin of a male lead in one clean cut.
But then, I found out that this contract husband of mine isn’t just some guard knight—he’s an asexual grand duke.
‘He’s not interested in women?’
Even better, or so I thought…
“My lady, you looked beautiful with your hair tied high that day.”
“You have a habit of squinting one eye whenever you write.”
“You always cut your steak into pieces before eating, didn’t you?”
Why does my newlywed husband know so much about me?
And then, one day, a stack of photos from my academy days comes spilling out from between his books in the study…
“My lady. What is it you’re looking at right now?”
It’s a nice novel. Thank you very much