I'm Lin Feng, and I read this trash novel for nine years. Ten thousand chapters of harem garbage where women exist to die for the protagonist's character development.

Now I'm inside it. As the villain. And I am scheduled to die in eight years.

That's fine. I'm a minor character. I can lay low.

Except the women who "loved" me in the original? They don't just move on after I die. One leaves a suicide note. Another says she can't live a second longer without me. The story calls these "tragic backstories" for the protagonist's future harem.

The protagonist has a system. Plot armor. The world rewrites itself to protect him.

I have nothing. Just nine years of knowing exactly how this story goes — and the certainty that every single one of those deaths is bullshit.

They're not dying for him.

Not if I get there first.