After Eating a Poisonous Mushroom, I Thought I Was the Heroine of an Erotica

I looked at him.

Sure, in the real world he’d be an absolute walking felony. Kidnapping, coercion, emotional manipulation—he should be rotting in a federal facility somewhere.

But this was a no-morals reverse-harem novel.

And in these stories, apparently sleeping together equals character development.

So right now, I loved him.

Deeply.

Stupidly.

Plus he was the male lead.

And he was beautiful—Greek-statue-who? level beautiful.

And stupidly powerful.

In the early chapters he was cold and untouchable.

Later, he supposedly melts into a desperate softboy who fights other men for my affection.

Daniel frowned slightly. “What’s your name?”

“Wendi Silver,” I said, enunciating every syllable. “Silver as in the metal. Wendi with an ‘i’. I’m not your first love’s stand-in. I’m just a housekeeper. Whatever you think is going on between us needs to end.”

I shot a wounded glare at Wendy Gold.

She snorted.

I glared harder.

Daniel gave her one look and she immediately shut her mouth.

Everyone else around the room was trying not to laugh behind their hands except for an older couple watching me with real concern.

Wendy’s parents.

Experienced, calculating, and already noticing how Daniel seemed… overly affected by me.

They were probably terrified their daughter was about to lose.

Wendy leaned toward Daniel and whispered, barely containing her amusement:

“She’s quoting one of the novels she sent me. Oh, Daniel… good luck.”

I stared at their picture-perfect silhouettes, letting dramatic sadness wash over me.

Only Wendy could shine that brightly next to Daniel.

I lifted my chin at a perfect forty-five degrees, presenting a tragic, elegant profile.

Just like the book described.

I held the pose.

For a long time.

Nobody reacted.

Instead, everyone comforted Daniel—the perfectly fine billionaire—while the victim of mushroom poisoning sat ignored on the hospital bed.

Eventually, everyone left.

Daniel drove me back to his estate.

The moment we got home, I tied on an apron and marched into the kitchen.

Hardworking live-in housekeeper mode: activated.

The staff froze when they saw me.

“Ma’am, please let us cook. You just got out of the hospital from poisoning yourself. Please don’t risk it again!”

I tuned them out.

They were trying to be kind. They probably heard Daniel “torturing” me at night and pitied me.

Daniel always called me his plaything—someone he could use however he wanted—while keeping Wendy pristine and sacred.

I cried so hard reading those chapters.

But now that I’d transmigrated, there was no way I was letting him ruin my life again. After I got my paycheck at the end of the month, I was gone.

Escape was the soul of this genre.

His friends weren’t bad, though.

And since this was a reverse-harem story, I had to respect the original plot.

If I didn’t follow the plot, I might disappear.

Or get smited by lightning.

Or zapped by the system.

That’s how transmigration worlds usually go.

I had just started washing vegetables when I felt eyes on me.

I turned.

Daniel stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets.

“Take a shower first,” he said quietly.

I still feared him.

So I removed my apron, nodded, and followed him upstairs.

But when he tried to open the bedroom door, I pressed a hand to his chest.

“I know you think I’m cheap,” I said, voice trembling but determined. “That I exist for you to use. But I’m done with that.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, silently encouraging me to go on.

Tears filled my eyes.

“Go be happy with Wendy. She might be a terrible person, but you like her, and that’s what matters.”

He let out a low, incredulous laugh.

I was crying, and he was laughing.

My anger spiked—partly for the original heroine, partly because I now was the heroine.

“You’re torturing me now, but one day you’ll regret it!” I declared dramatically. “You’ll be groveling for my love, and I won’t even look at you! Hmph!”