After eating a poisonous, hallucination-inducing mushroom, I genuinely thought I’d woken up inside a spicy erotica novel.

I was the heroine—a live-in housekeeper working for a rich heir, the kind of impossibly handsome, impossibly wealthy man who only exists in fiction.

When I opened my eyes and saw him standing there, I felt… oddly disappointed.

I muttered under my breath, “Only six guys? What, do I need to take Sundays off?”

The heir let out a short, disbelieving laugh. A slow, dangerous one.

“If I’d known you were this bold,” he said, “I wouldn’t have bothered being gentle.”

The moment the hallucination faded, I grabbed his sleeve and practically burst into tears. “Honey, I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean any of that.”

He loosened his tie with maddening calm and murmured, “Relax. No one here takes Sundays off. And if you’re that eager to follow the plot of your little erotica novel… we can start right now.”

When I woke up, I realized I had fallen straight into one of those “no morals, proceed at your own risk” reverse-harem erotica novels.

My latest research project, by the way.

The basic premise goes like this:

The male lead is Daniel Hord—the kind of ruthless, untouchable trust-fund prince who could buy half of the city before breakfast.

The heroine is me, applying to be his live-in housekeeper.

He discovers I look suspiciously like his first love, Wendy Gold, and instantly decides I’ll be her stand-in. He forces me into a relationship, locks me in his glass penthouse, and from that moment on…

The plot is nonstop intimacy.

Then more intimacy.

Then intimacy that should require paperwork and a legal disclaimer.

Now the story has reached its dramatic peak:

Wendy, his beloved first love, has returned from overseas.

Which means I’m about to suffer, attempt an escape, get dragged back, cry, rage, and eventually sleep with his best friend out of revenge.

And somehow, I end up falling for both of them.

And they fall for me.

And since none of them can handle losing me, they decide to… share.

Everything ends in one big spiritually “harmonious” poly relationship.

Truly a zero-ethics, reverse-harem fever dream.

I sat up in my hospital bed, mentally excluding two women and one older man in the room, and began counting how many good-looking men remained.

According to the plot, any man I lay eyes on is destined to fall head-over-heels for me.

“One, two, three, four…”

I counted again.

“One, two, three, four…”

Twice now.

Why were there only six?

The doctor was still explaining,

“She ate a poisonous mushroom. Her stomach’s been pumped, but her brain will be foggy for a while. Whatever she says, just go along with it.”

He left.

Wendy Gold—the real one—leaned in. “Honey, what are you doing? Are you feeling okay?”

I glanced at her.

She really was beautiful.

No wonder the heir chose me for looking sixty percent like her.

Also no wonder I was in a hospital bed—she pushed me down the stairs.

I ignored her and muttered, “Only six guys? What, do I need to take Sundays off?”

Daniel sat beside me and brushed a hand over my hair.

“Hey. How are you feeling? Still dizzy?”

Instantly, I burst into tears.

“Sob… sir, please let me go. Your soulmate is back. Why are you still keeping me? If Wendy hadn’t shoved me, I wouldn’t even be here…”

The room froze like someone hit pause.

The doctor rushed back in, shined a light in my eyes, asked a bunch of questions.

I ignored all of it.

At this point, I was fully committed to my heroine identity.

I was the heroine—Wendi Silver.

Look at the names:

Wendy Gold.

Wendi Silver.

Obviously, I was the bargain-bin stand-in for the golden original.

A soft-hearted girl working herself sick to pay for her mom’s medical bills, only to get passed around by morally bankrupt rich boys.

Voices swirled around me, muffled and far away.

And soon Daniel leaned in again to question me himself.

I looked at him.

Sure, in the real world he’d be an absolute walking felony. Kidnapping, coercion, emotional manipulation—he should be rotting in a federal facility somewhere.

But this was a no-morals reverse-harem novel.

And in these stories, apparently sleeping together equals character development.

So right now, I loved him.

Deeply.

Stupidly.

Plus he was the male lead.

And he was beautiful—Greek-statue-who? level beautiful.

And stupidly powerful.

In the early chapters he was cold and untouchable.

Later, he supposedly melts into a desperate softboy who fights other men for my affection.

Daniel frowned slightly. “What’s your name?”

“Wendi Silver,” I said, enunciating every syllable. “Silver as in the metal. Wendi with an ‘i’. I’m not your first love’s stand-in. I’m just a housekeeper. Whatever you think is going on between us needs to end.”

I shot a wounded glare at Wendy Gold.

She snorted.

I glared harder.

Daniel gave her one look and she immediately shut her mouth.

Everyone else around the room was trying not to laugh behind their hands except for an older couple watching me with real concern.

Wendy’s parents.

Experienced, calculating, and already noticing how Daniel seemed… overly affected by me.

They were probably terrified their daughter was about to lose.

Wendy leaned toward Daniel and whispered, barely containing her amusement:

“She’s quoting one of the novels she sent me. Oh, Daniel… good luck.”

I stared at their picture-perfect silhouettes, letting dramatic sadness wash over me.

Only Wendy could shine that brightly next to Daniel.

I lifted my chin at a perfect forty-five degrees, presenting a tragic, elegant profile.

Just like the book described.

I held the pose.

For a long time.

Nobody reacted.

Instead, everyone comforted Daniel—the perfectly fine billionaire—while the victim of mushroom poisoning sat ignored on the hospital bed.

Eventually, everyone left.

Daniel drove me back to his estate.

The moment we got home, I tied on an apron and marched into the kitchen.

Hardworking live-in housekeeper mode: activated.

The staff froze when they saw me.

“Ma’am, please let us cook. You just got out of the hospital from poisoning yourself. Please don’t risk it again!”

I tuned them out.

They were trying to be kind. They probably heard Daniel “torturing” me at night and pitied me.

Daniel always called me his plaything—someone he could use however he wanted—while keeping Wendy pristine and sacred.

I cried so hard reading those chapters.

But now that I’d transmigrated, there was no way I was letting him ruin my life again. After I got my paycheck at the end of the month, I was gone.

Escape was the soul of this genre.

His friends weren’t bad, though.

And since this was a reverse-harem story, I had to respect the original plot.

If I didn’t follow the plot, I might disappear.

Or get smited by lightning.

Or zapped by the system.

That’s how transmigration worlds usually go.

I had just started washing vegetables when I felt eyes on me.

I turned.

Daniel stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets.

“Take a shower first,” he said quietly.

I still feared him.

So I removed my apron, nodded, and followed him upstairs.

But when he tried to open the bedroom door, I pressed a hand to his chest.

“I know you think I’m cheap,” I said, voice trembling but determined. “That I exist for you to use. But I’m done with that.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, silently encouraging me to go on.

Tears filled my eyes.

“Go be happy with Wendy. She might be a terrible person, but you like her, and that’s what matters.”

He let out a low, incredulous laugh.

I was crying, and he was laughing.

My anger spiked—partly for the original heroine, partly because I now was the heroine.

“You’re torturing me now, but one day you’ll regret it!” I declared dramatically. “You’ll be groveling for my love, and I won’t even look at you! Hmph!”

I slammed the door with righteous fury, then marched into the bathroom and showered like I had something to prove.

After I washed up, I realized I’d forgotten to bring pajamas.

I was about to wrap myself in a towel when someone knocked.

I jumped.

This was exactly the point in the plot where the male lead would do something unforgivable.

“What do you want?” I snapped. “I’m not the old me anymore! Don’t you dare try to sleep with me!”

His voice came through the door, calm and maddeningly unbothered.

“I brought your clothes.”

…Oh.

Why did I feel disappointed?

I cracked the door open.

Sure enough, he was holding my pajamas.

I snatched them out of his hand.

He smiled faintly. “A little disappointed I didn’t do anything?”

Then he leaned in, his breath brushing my cheek.

“Should I come in and do something now?”

My face instantly went hot.

The moment he leaned closer, all those explicit scenes from the book thundered through my brain like a stampede.

I slammed the door in his face, heart racing, changed clothes, and stormed out—

Only to find him sitting on the sofa, scrolling through my phone.

I lunged. “Why are you in here? And why are you going through my phone?!”

Then it hit me—

In the novel, he monitored my phone.

He controlled my entire life.

My eyes filled with tears of pure injustice.

This time, he actually acted like a human being.

He pulled me onto his lap, one arm around my waist.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured. “Tell your husband.”

“You are NOT my husband,” I choked out. “You’re a controlling jerk who locked me up and used me as a stand-in!”

His mouth twitched, as if he wanted to argue but couldn’t.

Because everything I said was true.

After dinner, Daniel casually tried to put us in the same bedroom, just like in the book.

I pushed his hand away. “I’m just your housekeeper. You don’t own me. Respect my boundaries!”

He looked around the room, then back at me, completely unfazed.

“I’m worried you’ll kick off the blanket and catch a cold.”

Then he simply guided me into the room and shut the door.

When he reached for me, I shoved him back.

“I’m a respectable human being!”

He let out another low laugh.

And then just like the novel promised, his hands were on me, the plot steamrolled forward, and…

Well.

I was the reverse-harem heroine.

Soft, delicate, easily seduced.

The laws of this genre were undefeated.

The next morning, I glared at him with every ounce of shame and indignation in my body.

He raised a brow. “What’s with that look? Didn’t you say you’re my housekeeper?”

“I quit!”

“…And your mother’s surgery?” he asked lightly.

My eyes filled instantly.

He was a villain.

A monster.

Weaponizing my mom’s medical bills against me.

If I ever tried to leave, he’d definitely threaten her safety.

That was absolutely within his villain skill set.

He brushed tears from my cheeks, the warmth of his palm short-circuiting my brain.

It had to be some kind of protagonist-halo seduction buff.

His voice dropped, low and a little hoarse.

“You really like playing the tragic heroine, don’t you?”

I blinked, confused.

He stood, guided me to the sink, squeezed toothpaste onto my brush, and even filled a cup with mouthwash.

See, that was the thing about him.

Cold, distant, stingy with words—but when he took care of someone, he did it meticulously.

Watching us brush our teeth side by side in the mirror, my heart twisted painfully.

He would eventually live happily ever after with Wendy Gold.

I was just the stand-in.

Eye for an eye.

If he treated me like a stand-in, then I’d cheat on him for real.

When we went downstairs, Wendy’s mother was already waiting in the living room.

The moment she saw us, she put on an overly warm smile. “Wendi, sweetheart, are you feeling better?”

“Save the fake concern,” I snapped. “Don’t worry. The moment Daniel lets me go, I’m out of here. I’m not a threat to your daughter.”