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When the Side Character Shares the Heroine’s Name Novel Cover

When the Side Character Shares the Heroine’s Name

After transmigrating into a fantasy novel, a woman mistakenly believes she is the heroine because they share a name. She boldly pursues a destitute man, ignoring his obvious disdain until the true female lead appears. Heartbroken by the realization of her side character status, she prepares to vanish from his life. But as she attempts to leave, the man who once glared at her with red eyes traps her against a wall, questioning if she has already become bored of their relationship.
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Chapter 4

My vision went dark for a moment. I immediately opened my mouth to defend myself.

“I didn’t. I really didn’t.”

My friend refused to listen and kept piling on accusations.

“Shawn, I warned you ages ago. Wendy only relies on her looks. You really think she plans to build a life with you?

“People like her only want your money.”

She even tried to snatch my bag.

I may have been running away, but I absolutely did not steal anything.

Guilty conscience or not, I hugged the bag to my chest.

“I didn’t take your money. You have no proof. Stop making things up.

“Then open it and let us check.”

Shawn finally growled, “Enough.”

A chill ran through me.

So he did not even want to hear my side anymore.

My friend smirked at me.

“You heard him. Be a good girl and open your bag.”

“I was talking to you. Shut up.”

“Shawn…?”

Shawn’s expression darkened. He looked at her without the slightest politeness.

“You can leave now.”

My friend went pale with anger.

“I was trying to help you. Don’t be ungrateful.”

She wanted to say more, but one look at Shawn’s irritated face shut her up.

She left in a hurry, muttering under her breath.

Then the alley fell silent. Just the two of us remained.

All I could think about was the false accusation. I rushed to explain.

“Shawn, I swear I wasn’t trying to steal anything. You know what kind of person I am. If you don’t believe me, you can check—”

He cut me off with a cold voice.

“Why did you run?”

“…What?”

He did not even glance at the bag. He stepped forward, caged me against the wall, and repeated in a low tone.

“Why did you run.”

His breath hit my cheek. His eyes lowered.

“Are you already tired of me, baby?”

—

I had never seen Shawn this angry.

He dragged me home. The moment we stepped inside, he pinned me against the entryway and kissed me.

Except it barely counted as a kiss.

It was harsher than anything he had ever done, fueled with frustration as he gripped my jaw and bit down.

It hurt. I gasped and pushed him away.

He gave a cold, humorless smile and leaned in again, but then he caught the fear in my eyes.

He froze. The anger in him slowly drained away.

Whatever he had wanted to demand turned into something heavy he could not force out.

After a long moment, his voice finally came out tight and strained.

“Don’t leave. Please.”

Not now. If I didn’t leave now, I might not get another chance.

I covered the spot on my lip where he had bitten me and spoke with absolute certainty.

“I am leaving.”

His jaw clenched.

“Wendy, you were the one who pursued me first.”

That was it. The male lead had started bringing up past offenses.

This was my doom.

Near tears, I slid to my knees like a coward.

“It was my fault. I know it was. I shouldn’t have bothered you.

“I really regret it. Shawn, please let me go.”

He stared at me, stunned. His voice turned rough.

“You regret meeting me?”

I had lived with him for two years. I knew how dominant he was by nature.

But right now, he looked more lost than angry.

After a moment of silence, he asked quietly, “Why? Did I do something that upset you?”

Something sad flickered in his eyes, but I could not afford to think about it.

He was the male lead. He was destined to end up with the real heroine.

I was a side character. I could not keep making mistakes.

So I steeled myself and picked the only excuse I could think of.

“Because you are too poor, Shawn.”

I stared at the floor and forced the words out in one breath.

“I am still young. I don’t want to be stuck in a cramped rental with you. I want a better life.

“And I like gentle men. You are rough and impatient. We are not compatible.”

Poor. Rough.

Each word crushed his pride.

But he still pressed on.

“Then what about when you said you wanted to decorate the place and turn it into a real home? When you said you liked the food I cooked?”

A wave of guilt hit me. I could not look him in the eyes.

“I lied. I stopped liking those bland meals a long time ago.”

Silence fell over the room. Thick and suffocating.

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