I Knew I Wouldn't Remember

Summer was at its peak. I was sprawled out on the floor, pressed against the tiles because they were the only things that felt cool. My clothes were drenched in sweat, but my mind was elsewhere—I was busy imagining myself living inside the world of a manhwa.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. A moment later, my mom's voice echoed up the stairs.

"Bong-i! Your friend is here!"

I dragged myself up, headed downstairs, and led her back up to my room. While my mom started making coffee for us, I noticed my friend looked unusually energized; she was practically vibrating with excitement.

"Why are you so hyped up?" I asked.

"Have you read Lord Baby Runs a Romance Fantasy with Cash?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yes! I've read it," I replied.

"I want to be just like her!" she squealed. "Surrounded by handsome men... I want that life. Tell me, if you ever got a chance like that, could you handle it? I think I'd manage just fine if I got to see those handsome faces every day!"

I shook my head and laughed. "I don't think I could handle it, even with the handsome men. I always wonder how those heroines deal with it all. And how do they remember every detail of the stories they've read? Look at us—we can barely even remember the titles half the time!"

I leaned back against my pillow. "It would be impossible to settle in. I'd be the first one to ruin the plot."

She laughed loudly, "For real! We'd be doomed." But honestly? If I ever got the chance, I wouldn't even go for the main hero. I'm going straight for the Second Male Lead."

She clutched a cushion to her chest, her expression turning dramatic. "You know how much I love them. My poor, sweet Second MLs... they're always so much better than the lead, but they just get left over in the end. It breaks my heart!"

I nodded, feeling a genuine pang of sympathy. "I totally agree. I always feel so bad for them. They do everything for the heroine and end up with nothing but a lonely walk in the rain."

"Right?!" she squealed. "If it were me, I'd give them the happy ending they deserve."

We continued our conversation over coffee, lost in a world of fictional tropes until the sun began to set. After we ate dinner, she finally went home. I was absolutely exhausted; talking about fantasy worlds was surprisingly draining.

Sigh.

I crawled into bed and pulled up a manhwa on my phone. The blue light of the screen was the only thing keeping me awake. But as I scrolled through the panels, my eyelids grew heavy. I eventually drifted off, my mobile screen still glowing against the sheets.

When I opened my eyes, the world felt different.

The air was no longer thick with summer heat; it was cool and smelled faintly of lavender and old parchment. I blinked, trying to clear the sleep from my vision, and then I froze.

Huh?

The plain, white-plaster ceiling of my bedroom was gone.

The ceiling was different. Instead of my plain white plaster, I was looking at dark, heavy wooden beams. In one corner, a long crack snaked across the wood, and a small spider was busily weaving a web over a patch of peeling paint.

I sat up, and the bed beneath me let out a loud, agonizing creak. This wasn't my mattress. This was a lumpy, thin thing that smelled faintly of dried grass and old laundry.

I scanned the room. This wasn't my room. This wasn't my home.