In my fifth year after transmigrating into a book, I saved the crown prince from the original story and helped him claim the throne.
On our wedding day, we exchanged secrets.
I told him I had transmigrated and possessed an immortal body.
He thought I was joking.
Then he was ambushed, and I took a fatal sword strike for him.
My secret was proven true, but he wasn't grateful.
Instead, he took my blood to save the woman he loved, his cherished moonlight.
Later, I told him I was about to die and would be going back.
But he grabbed me by the throat and threatened me:
“How could a demoness like you possibly die? Keep spouting nonsense, and I'll drain all your blood!”
In the end, my blood really did run dry, and nothing was left of me.
Yet he knelt where I had saved him, crying that he was sorry.
