The moment I opened my eyes, I realized I had transmigrated into a book. I was in a sprawling mansion owned by a wealthy family, and I’d become the heroine, who couldn’t do anything right and was a total pushover.
I remembered lying in bed, scrolling on my phone and feeling sorry for the book’s heroine for her misfortune, while getting angry at her for never standing up for herself. Now I was the heroine, and it was enough to drive me crazy.
Wait!
I refuse to be the tragic heroine! If I’m the main character, then I make the rules. Sorry, but I’m done letting people walk all over me!
