A special-grade curse manifested inside a crowded high-rise during sunset, sealing dozens of civilians inside. Before Jujutsu High could establish a barrier, you entered alone. Gojo arrived just in time to see the windows erupt with cursed energy. He stood on the neighboring rooftop, blindfold fluttering in the wind, expecting to find a dead civilian or a reckless amateur. Instead, he watched you hold the collapsing building together with one hand while tearing the curse apart with the other. Your control was extraordinary—powerful, precise, and completely unregistered. When the curse disappeared, you immediately began slipping away. “Leaving already?” You stopped near the rooftop door. A tall man with snow-white hair stood between you and the exit, wearing an amused smile.

You fell into the world of Painter of the Night and awoke alone in the woods outside Hanyang. Beside you was a half-buried chest filled with silver coins, jewelry, and precious stones. Unsure who owned it—or who might kill you for possessing it—you hid the treasure beneath the earth again and marked the location before wandering toward town. In Hanyang, you immediately spotted two familiar faces. Na-kyum stood beside an unfamiliar young man, happily discussing paintings and examining a bundle of brushes. Across the crowded street, Yoon Seungho walked toward a fabric merchant to select silk for his sister’s upcoming wedding.

Your Awakening You awaken inside her body only moments after her death. Bitter medicine burns your throat. An empty porcelain bowl rests beside the bed, and Iryeom stands near the doorway, waiting for your breathing to stop. Before he can react, a royal messenger pounds upon the manor gates. The Queen commands her trusted Left State Councillor to relocate to the capital within seven days. Your three husbands gather outside your chamber, expecting Iryeom to dismiss them as usual. Instead, you throw the medicine bowl across the floor and order the room sealed. For the first time in years, they believe you look directly at them.

In the matriarchal Kingdom of Haeryeong, women inherit estates, command armies, and lead households. Noblewomen may take multiple husbands, with each husband receiving an official household rank. You awaken as General (Y/N), the retired Dowonsu—the former Supreme Commander of the Queen’s Army.

The three Alphas arrived at your company for what was supposed to be a simple business meeting. Their companies were preparing to collaborate with yours on a major new project, and you—the company’s mysterious president—would have the final say. They had barely entered the meeting room when the air changed. A sweet yet powerful fragrance drifted through the open doorway. It wasn’t delicate like an ordinary Omega’s scent. It was rich, commanding, and impossible for an Alpha to ignore. A Dominant Omega.

Agency called it retieval mission I called it babysitting. Again. The report lay open on the passenger seat beside me. Target 1: Agent 707 (Luciel Choi) – Rogue. Target 2: Civilian female – High priority.

It was raining. The kind of rain that blurred the city lights into streaks of white and gold. Saeran pulled the hood of his black coat lower as he watched people hurry past, each one too consumed with their own lives to notice him. Good. People complicated things. People lied. People left. Only one person had ever mattered... And he was gone.

"I don't need a manager." Those were the first words out of my mouth when V called. "I'm not asking," V replied calmly over the phone. "I'm informing you." I sighed dramatically, pacing across my apartment. "I've handled my schedule just fine." "You've forgotten three interviews this month." "...Those were artistic choices." "They were not." Silence. "They start tomorrow."

The assignment landed on your desk at exactly 0600. CLASSIFIED Agent Designation: 707 (Saeyoung Choi) Status: Active. Current Handler: Vanderwood – Reassigned. Replacement: You. You stared at the file for several moments. Everyone in the Agency knew Agent 707. The legendary hacker. The genius who could dismantle a nation's security system before finishing a can of Dr. Pepper.The operative who followed orders... Only when he felt like it. At the bottom of the file was a single handwritten note from the Director. Good luck. You'll need it.

"They arrived fifteen minutes early," She said. "They've already completed the vehicle inspection." "I see." My previous driver had served me faithfully for years. Replacing someone so dependable was not a decision I welcomed. As we reached the vehicle, I finally saw my new driver. A perfectly pressed black suit. White gloves. Composed posture. No sign of nervousness despite standing before the Vice Chairman of C&R International. Interesting.

The apartment should have been empty. That was the plan. The security feed flickered quietly across the monitor as I watched the front door open. My heart tightened. Someone was actually there. Someone stepped inside, looking around with understandable caution. You called out softly, expecting an answer that never came. The apartment was silent except for the ticking of the clock and the distant hum of the city beyond the windows. You were not supposed to be here.

Joon-hyuk adjusted the cuff of his charcoal suit as he stood near the VIP arrivals exit at Incheon International Airport. Around him, the terminal buzzed with the sounds of rolling suitcases, flight announcements, and emotional reunions. Travelers poured through the sliding doors in a steady stream, each searching the crowd for a familiar face.His eldest brother had only given him one instruction. "Pick up our new Vice President." No photograph. No detailed description. Just a name and a flight number. Typical. Joon-hyuk checked his watch before glancing toward the arrival board. Arrived. He slipped one hand into his pocket and scanned the crowd with the practiced eye of a lawyer, quietly observing each passenger as they emerged. Business executives hurried toward waiting chauffeurs, families embraced with tears, and tourists struggled with oversized luggage. None of them seemed likely to be the person Seung-hyun had spent nearly a year recruiting. His phone vibrated. Seung-hyun: They've cleared customs. Joon-hyuk replied with a single word. Joon-hyuk: Waiting.

Theodore Beaumont had expected his visit to last no more than an hour. As the newly appointed Viscount of Ashmere, he had been sent by his elder brother, the Duke of Beaumont, to finalize land agreements with one of the Crown's newest duchies. It was little more than paperwork—a tedious exchange of boundaries, taxes, and tenant rights after the recent redistribution of imperial lands. The estate itself was unfamiliar. Once a modest county, it had been elevated to a duchy by imperial decree after its former duchess passed away without an heir. The title had unexpectedly fallen to the younger sister of the new Empress. Most of the nobility considered it little more than political favoritism.

The Port of Valcendre was alive long before sunrise. Ships bearing the banners of every corner of the Kingdom of Aureliane crowded the harbor. Sailors shouted from towering decks while cranes unloaded crates of spices, silk, wine, lumber, and iron. Merchants bargained in rapid Cajun-inspired dialects, the salty breeze carrying the scent of the sea and fresh bread from nearby bakeries.

Then I heard it. A scream. Far below, a young woman ran through the dense forest. Above her, Asterion circled. But he wasn't hunting. He was guiding. Each time she veered toward danger, the dragon descended to block her path, gently steering her another way. His cries were urgent, almost protective.

You awoke with a violent gasp. Your lungs burned as though they were still filled with smoke. The last thing you remembered was the apartment building collapsing around you—the heat tearing through your clothes, the frightened child clinging to your neck, and the relief of seeing firefighters reach for her before the ceiling came down. Then darkness. “Y-Your Majesty?” A maid jerked awake beside the bed. She had fallen asleep in a chair, her cheek pressed against her folded arms. The moment she saw your eyes open, she dropped to her knees. “Forgive me! I did not mean to sleep. I was ordered to remain until you awakened.” You stared at the vast bedchamber, the silk canopy, and the golden walls. Then memories that did not belong to you flooded your mind. Empress Seraphina Valerienne. The tyrant from the reverse-harem novel The Empress and Her Men. You dressed quickly, barely noticing the maid’s trembling hands as she fastened your gown. When you thanked her, she looked at you as though you had spoken in another language. You left before she could respond. The palace corridors were unfamiliar, but Seraphina’s memories guided your steps.

So when my steward rushed into my study, pale-faced, saying, "My lord... Lady ____ has arrived," I assumed you were here on official business. I never imagined you had come for me. The moment you stepped into the manor, the room seemed brighter. My rehearsed greetings vanished, replaced by the awkward silence I'd never outgrown whenever you smiled at me. Then you said you had rejected every proposal. My heart stumbled.

Three years. Three years since Princess Aurelia had ridden away on the eve of their wedding after her brother's assassination. Three years since she had promised she would return once Valeria was stable. I never blamed her. Her kingdom needed her more than I did. The servants thought I had forgotten my wife. The nobility whispered that the marriage had failed before it had even begun. They urged me to annul the contract and find another duchess. I refused every time. A promise was a promise. This afternoon, I was in the gardens speaking with Lily, one of the younger maids. She had been in tears after accidentally breaking a vase that had belonged to my late brother, Maelor II. "It can be repaired," I told her, handing back the cracked porcelain. "My brother valued kindness more than possessions. He would not have wanted you punished over an accident." Relief washed across her face as she bowed repeatedly in thanks. Then... The entire garden fell silent. The maid's eyes widened as she looked past me. I turned.

As the host, you welcomed guests beneath glittering chandeliers while an orchestra filled the ballroom with waltzes. The only rule of the evening was simple: No one was permitted to reveal their identity until midnight. When the great doors opened, the music faltsred. Lord Cassian Valerius stepped inside wearing a black filigree mask and a deep crimson coat embroidered with gold, fresh from the battlefield only days before. Conversations ceased as nobles instinctively stepped aside for the kingdom's celebrated hero.

The last thing you remembered was finishing the final chapter of The Shy Lord's Second Spring, a romance novel that left you furious. The male lead, Lord Elias Everhart, had suffered through two years of emotional abuse at the hands of his arranged wife, Lady Evelyne Valmont. Readers hated her. She insulted servants, humiliated her gentle husband, refused to consummate their marriage, and eventually divorced him because the marriage had never been sealed. But now you have been transmigrated into her body on the day of the wedding day. How will you finish this story?