*
After transmigrating, Jiang An becomes a vicious cannon-fodder character in a sentinel-guide novel, doomed to a tragic end and willing to stop at nothing.
He's a defective guide who can't provide mental guidance and doesn't even have a spirit animal.
To stay alive, he has to maintain his cannon-fodder persona. The System requires:
When faced with a handsome, sunny senior heartthrob, he has to go all-in on lovesick devotion, pursue him relentlessly, and confess passionately.
When faced with the powerful, aristocratic prince, he has to dress to impress, throw himself at him, and curry favor, all to become the crown princess as soon as possible.
When faced with the cold, sharp-tongued instructor, he has to deliberately talk back and make trouble to get special attention.
When faced with the gentle, fragile protagonist shou, he has to insult him, spread rumors, and run the dorm like a tyrant.
As the protagonist favored by the author, each heaven-blessed young man is a powerful S-class sentinel, and their spirit animals are extraordinary creatures at the top of the food chain.
Jiang An holds up his D-grade test report and pretends to be brave, sniffling softly. He looks weak, pitiful, and helpless. "Am I really not going to get punched into a pancake?"
He diligently plays the hated, clingy pest, using every ounce of his stupidity to drag the protagonist's group down.
Just as his tragic end of imprisonment, threats, and getting his head blown off seems ever closer, he's trying to figure out how to escape when the heaven-blessed young men deliver their ultimate revenge ahead of schedule!
The senior pins Jiang An against the door. A long-fingered hand gently hooks the hem of his white sweater, exposing bruises inch by inch to the cool air...
"Look, how beautiful..."
In the elevator, locked shut, the prince of the business empire presses his forehead to Jiang An's and patiently guides him through his breathing. Fingers wrapped in black gloves slip precisely through the gap in his tactical belt.
"Crying?"
The instructor grips his wrist tightly. A callused fingertip covers the hand holding his gun, and with irresistible force, guides the barrel to the instructor's slightly raised lips. "Why are you shaking?"
#A silly little temptress dancing back and forth on the edge of death#
#Probably none of them are normal people#
Theme: A good little monster who obeys the law
