Who Wrote 'Cancel Good Novel'?

After transmigrating through three novels in a row, the hardest thing I ever suffer through is drinking iced long black. But when I open my eyes again, I somehow become the pathetic simp side character in a trashy romance novel. Just as I debate whether to file a complaint against the system, the trembling system hurriedly explains something to me. Although this is a trashy romance novel, it is also an unfinished abandoned novel. I ask, "So you're saying I decide how the story develops?" The system replied, "Yes. Everything is completely under your control." Satisfied, I lazily stretch and begin checking the original Jacob's background. He has a trillionaire father and a billionaire mother. On top of that, he has seven rich and beautiful older sisters. With such a ridiculously overpowered setup, how can he go around simping for a broke college girl with no money? What a complete waste!

My friend and I transmigrated into a melodramatic novel about a wealthy family. When the mission ended, I chose to leave. He fell for the obsessive female lead and chose to stay with her. Eight years later, the system told me that she had locked him in a mental hospital, and he had only three days left to live. When I rushed to him, he was tied to the bed. His eyes were dull, and he kept repeating my name. His crush, Sterling Group's CEO, was planning a grand wedding with the man she truly loved. I looked at my friend’s hands. They had once played the piano with grace. This time, they were covered in countless needle marks. “You came, I knew you would...” He mustered the last of his strength to look at me. “I was a fool. I thought staying by her side was the truest form of my love for her. “I never realized I was only a stepping stone in her path. “Take me home. I don’t want to die here...”

Two years to live. Three months to get pregnant. One insufferable stranger who ruins everything. The doctor's words still echo. Terminal, progressive, two years maximum. But it's the three month deadline that sends me running. Three months to conceive before my body becomes a graveyard for the legacy I'll never leave behind. So I fly to Thailand, pretend to be poor, and search for a desperate man willing to marry me for money. Until I meet him. Arrogant. Annoying. Sharing my rented rooftop and seeing through every lie I tell. We hate each other. Establish rules. Agree to stay away. Then he collapses, burning with fever, and I have to make a choice: let him die alone, or miss the deadline that could save my billion dollar empire. I choose him. The company crashes. My father's legacy crumbles. Then I find his passport. He's not some poor stranger. He's the heir to my father's biggest rival. He's been lying since the moment we met. I run, choking on tears and rage, swearing I'll destroy him. Three weeks later, I'm at an engagement party, about to meet the stranger my dying father picked to save our company. The doors open. It's him. He steps closer in that perfectly tailored suit, his mouth curving into something dangerous, and leans in to whisper against my ear: "Hello, wife. Miss me?" I realize with crushing, devastating clarity... I did.

I woke up inside a novel, and not even as an important character. I became a pretty background extra in a smut novel. My brother, however, was the only normal person in the entire story. His character setting was the one man the soft, delicate heroine could never win over. He was the cold, unattainable Prince Charming she could never conquer. When the heroine cried and confessed her love, he was studying. When she offered him her whole heart and body, he was busy starting a company. When she spiraled into scandals and nightlife, he was already a billionaire, calm and untouchable. I thought he would live a quiet, ascetic life forever. Until one night, I walked in on him at midnight… holding a piece of clothing I recognized all too well, murmuring a name over and over, a name so familiar that my scalp tingled.

On the eve of my wedding, I was run over by my fiance's childhood friend. My life was in danger. My best friend tried to call my fiance, but he hung up directly. He sent her a text message. "Ruth is sick. I don't have time." My best friend then called her boyfriend who happened to be a well-connected celebrity. However, he said, "Ruth is sick. She needs me by her side right now." After a night of resuscitation, we looked at each other in the ward and spoke at the same time. "I don't want to get married." To our surprise, both our fiances went crazy when they found out we called off our weddings.

I was the side character, the one destined to be neglected, forgotten, and never chosen. In the novel’s story, I was merely a background existence—the woman fated to marry the male lead, yet never once receive his love. The wife who shared his name but never his attention. Salvatore Mancini. The perfect male lead. Cold, powerful, and admired by everyone. Except me. Because in this story, his heart already belonged to someone else. When I first realized I had transmigrated into this novel, I thought I could change my fate. I tried to avoid the original scenes, tried to step away from the plot. But every time I tried to change something…I returned to the same place. The same moment, the same outcome. As if the unseen author of this story was reminding me again and again: You are only a puppet, and puppets don’t decide their roles. So I stopped resisting. If the story wanted me to be the neglected wife, then I would simply live quietly and let the plot run its course. That was my plan. Until one night, when I finally looked at the man and said casually— “Tell me something, Mr. Mancini. Aren’t you supposed to be my husband?” His cold eyes narrowed slightly, but I simply leaned back and smiled. “Then fulfill your role properly. Let’s see… what kind of man the great Salvatore Mancini is.” For the first time since our marriage he actually looked at me, not through me. At me. I didn’t know what changed after that, but from that night onward. Even when he looked at me with clear irritation. Salvatore Mancini began appearing around me more and more. Which left me with a very unsettling thought. The plot…It didn’t change, right?