The system asked me to transform the villain, and I backhandedly added a beautiful, strong, and tragic script to him.
When the original male protagonist made an affectionate confession, I was being held in the arms of the villain and wiping the corners of my mouth.
He smiled sickly: "My wife wrote the play, and my husband will accompany you to perform it until the end."
It wasn't until my wedding night that I touched the old manuscripts he had hidden - my name was written all over them, and the ink had been dry for ten years.
"How do you know... I'm not borrowing your game to play my game?"
