Chapter 4: Avoidance and Old Scars

Back in the dorm, I barely dared look at Chase Milton, afraid I'd give myself away.

I kept telling myself: Don't panic. He was in a coma before. He doesn't know it was me who did those things.

He won't recognize me.

...

From then on, I avoided Chase Milton whenever I could. If I couldn't, I pretended not to know him—polite but distant.

Luckily, every time Chase Milton looked at me, his eyes were cold and indifferent.

I figured we could get through a year in peace.

One day, I was sitting in class, unconsciously glancing at Chase Milton by the window.

Sunlight filtered through the oak leaves outside, making patterns on his desk and catching the gold flecks in his hair, highlighting his sharp features—even the golden fuzz on his skin was visible.

His nose bridge was high, nearly blending into his brow bone.

At 6'3", with that face, Chase Milton quickly became the campus heartthrob at Northlake University.

I've seen tons of girls confess to him.

Every time, I silently sweated for them.

This is the horror boss, people. Don't be fooled by the looks—make him mad, and he could snap your neck with his bare hands.

The system also told me that at night, transmigrators would enter the horror game battlefield.

But the NPCs in this world can't enter the horror battlefield—it's like the battlefield is in a parallel, invisible space. Even if an NPC passes by, they won't notice anything weird.

Now, I'm disguised as an ordinary student NPC.

Lost in thought, I didn't notice Chase Milton looking up at the same moment.

Crap—eye contact.

His pale green eyes locked onto me, icy cold. A chill ran down my spine.

I quickly looked away, not daring to meet his gaze again.

At night, the moon was bright, and the breeze rustled the treetops. The scent of fresh-cut grass lingered in the air.

I sat on a bench under the trees, planning to rewatch my favorite movie.

Haven't seen it in ages—ever since Chase Milton moved into the dorm, I didn't dare.

Actually, the year before I came here, I wasn't always this eager to mess things up.

Back then, I was squeaky clean.

After the SATs, my dad found out about my orientation because of a movie.

He thought I was insane.

Locked me in a psychiatric hospital for a whole year.

They forced me to say I liked girls, made me watch endless 'normal' movies.

At my lowest, I was tied to the bed—only by replaying my favorite movies in my mind could I get through it.

The smell of antiseptic still haunted me. Sometimes, I woke up sweating, half-expecting to see those white hospital walls.

Until my mom finally found me and got me out.

But after that, I really was messed up.

I wanted to go wild.

But every time I tried to get close to a guy, it felt like an electric shock stabbed through my chest—my hands would tremble uncontrollably.

Until the system showed up, and I agreed to transmigrate into the book without hesitation.

At least here, messing around with fictional people, no one could insult or try to 'fix' me anymore.

...

Just as I was watching intently, a low male voice sounded behind me: "Are you gay?"

I looked up. It was Chase Milton.

Internally, I wailed.

I was terrified. The system said he hated gay people, especially tops.

Because before he became the horror boss, a top had harassed him.

I was even more afraid he'd remember it was me who hid him for a year.

"No."

He stared at me coldly. "You're drooling."