Short Description:

Ren Kaelith is a struggling manga artist famous for his fantasy BL stories — tales of forbidden romance between masters and servants, princes and their stepbrothers.

But when his latest masterpiece flops because of a “horrible ending,” he finds himself waking up inside the very world he created.

To fix the plot and escape, Ren must rewrite the ending from within… but the characters are no longer his puppets.

The male lead, Duke Adrian Dargan, is nothing like Ren’s scripted noble gentleman — he’s possessive, unpredictable, and dangerously obsessed with Ren.

What starts as a lighthearted quest soon spirals into a web of jealousy, control, and desire.

The Duke will stop at nothing to make Ren his — in mind, body, and soul. And this time, Ren isn’t holding the pen.

Introductions of the characters:

Protegnist: Ren Kaelith

Career: a manga artist

Height: 1,68 cm

Male Lead: Duke Adrian Dargan

Career: The Duke of the Dargen family.

Height: 1,84 cm

Back to the present:

Rain pattered softly against my apartment window. He leaned his back in the chair, groaning at the sight of his screen —

“my latest manga, The Duke’s Moonlight Servant, had just taken a nosedive from 4.9 stars to 2.3 overnight.”

[Top Comment: “WHAT WAS THAT ENDING??!!!”]

[Reply: “I waited 46 chapters for THIS???”]

[Reply: “Who did he ended with???”]

I buried my face in my hands. “It wasn’t that bad…” I mumbled. Sure, I’d made the duke end up with the female lead instead of his loyal male servant, but… it made sense. Right?

Apparently not. Thousands of furious readers thought otherwise.

“I’ll fix it tomorrow…” I muttered, shutting my laptop. Sleep. I needed sleep.

When I opened my eyes again…

The ceiling was wrong. The bed was wrong. The air smelled like lavender and old books.

“Huh? Why is this place so weird?!”

I sat up, my hands gripping silk sheets embroidered with the crest of House Dargan. A butler bowed at the foot of my bed.

“Sir Kaelith, the Duke is expecting you.”

Sir… Kaelith? Wait—this was my pen name.

No. No way.

I stumbled to the mirror. The face staring back wasn’t mine — it was the “side character” I’d drawn as the duke’s new scribe in Chapter 18. The one who gets fired after two scenes.

My heart dropped. I was inside my own manga.

“Please,” the butler said, “follow me to the study.”

I was still trying to breathe when the heavy doors opened. And there he was — Duke Adrian Dargan. Tall, sharp-eyed, every inch of him radiating the same cold authority I had written… yet his gaze when it fell on me was not cold.

It was… unsettling.

“Ren Kaelith,” he said, voice low. “You’re finally here.”

I forced a nervous smile. “Uh… yes, my lord. I look forward to working with you.”

His lips curved slightly — but it wasn’t a smile. “Work?” He stepped closer, each boot click echoing. “No… you’re here to stay.”

My throat tightened. This wasn’t in my script.

The Duke’s study was massive — towering bookshelves, a chandelier that could crush me if it fell, and a desk so polished I could see my own reflection in it.

“Sit,” Adrian said.

I obeyed instantly. Not because he was scary… okay, maybe because he was scary. But also because he was absurdly good-looking, and good-looking people made me nervous.

He leaned forward, resting one elbow on the desk.

“I’ve read your letters.”

“My… letters?”

“Yes,” he said smoothly, “the ones you sent when applying for the position of my personal scribe.”

Right. My character’s backstory. I had no idea what I’d ‘written’ in those letters, but I nodded like I knew.

Adrian studied me in silence. His eyes were sharp, the kind that could slice open your thoughts and read them.

“You’re exactly as I imagined,” he murmured.

“Ah—thank you?”

That smile again. Small. Controlled. The kind that made you feel like you’d been chosen, but for something you didn’t understand yet.

The first week passed strangely smoothly.

My job was simple — copy his official correspondence, rewrite reports, and occasionally accompany him to meetings. He was polite, well-mannered, and almost… gentle.

Almost.

On the third day, I made the mistake of laughing at something the female lead — Lady Elara — said during tea. She was charming, beautiful, and in my original story, Adrian’s future wife.

When I glanced back at Adrian, his expression hadn’t changed… but his teacup was cracked in his hand.

That night, as I was leaving the study, he stopped me at the door.

“Ren,” he said quietly.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Don’t get too close to her.”

I froze. “Pardon?”

His smile was still there — faint, almost warm. “It’s not good for you.”

I went to bed that night with a strange feeling in my chest.

He wasn’t supposed to care. In my story, the duke was aloof, a perfect gentleman until the final act. But here… his gaze lingered too long, his voice dipped too low, and his smile felt like it was hiding something sharp.

And for some reason… I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The days blurred into an odd rhythm.

Morning: I’d follow Adrian to the council chamber, copying down his icy, razor-edged remarks to trembling nobles.

Afternoon: I’d sit at my desk in the study, transcribing letters in my neatest handwriting while he worked in silence beside me.

Evening: I’d retreat to my assigned room in the guest wing, where I’d lie awake thinking about two things — how to fix the story, and why the Duke kept watching me when he thought I wasn’t looking.

The truth was, I didn’t have the luxury of enjoying this strange new life.

If I didn’t change the ending so the male lead — Adrian — ended up with me instead of Lady Elara, I wasn’t sure what would happen. The rules weren’t clear. I could vanish. Die. Get stuck here forever. None of those options sounded fun.

But changing the story from inside was harder than I expected. Elara wasn’t a cardboard character anymore — she laughed, she got angry, she teased me like an older sister. And Adrian…

Adrian was unpredictable.

Take yesterday, for example. We’d been in the library. I dropped my pen, and Elara bent down to pick it up before I could. She smiled and placed it in my hand — a perfectly normal, harmless gesture.

And yet, when I glanced up, Adrian was leaning back in his chair, his fingers drumming slowly on the armrest, eyes fixed on where her hand had brushed mine.

The next morning, Elara left for her family’s estate “unexpectedly” for an indefinite stay.

I didn’t need a narrator to tell me who made that happen.

Still, I told myself I was overthinking. That is, until the incident in the corridor.

It was late — I’d been working past midnight in the study, and was heading back to my room when I heard footsteps behind me.

“Ren.” His voice was low, a little rougher than usual.

I turned to find Adrian standing there, hair slightly mussed, no jacket, just a loose white shirt with the top buttons undone. He looked nothing like the perfect nobleman I’d drawn.

“My lord, you’re… up late,” I managed.

“I was waiting for you.”

That should have sounded romantic. It didn’t. It felt… heavy.

Before I could respond, he stepped closer, and I instinctively backed up until my shoulders hit the wall.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“What? No—”

His hand came up, not touching me, but close enough that I felt the warmth radiating from his palm beside my head. “I don’t like it.”

“I—I was just busy with work—”

“Then I’ll make sure you have less work,” he murmured. “More time… for me.”

I swallowed. This wasn’t part of the plot. In my manga, Adrian was polite until Chapter 40. We weren’t even at Chapter 10.

He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing my ear. “Stay where I can see you, Ren.”

Then he stepped back, his expression perfectly neutral again, as if the moment had never happened.

I stood there for a long time after he left, heart pounding.

I came here to fix the ending. But now, I wasn’t sure if I was the one rewriting the story… or if Adrian was.

I had a plan.

A simple, foolproof plan — if the story needed Adrian to fall for me instead of Lady Elara, then I just had to… well, make him fall for me.

Not that I wanted him to. Not really. This was purely professional.

Romancing the male lead? Just another day at the office.

Step one: Create “bonding moments.”

Step two: Make myself indispensable.

Step three: Get to the “love confession” before Elara came back.

Easy. Right?

The perfect opportunity came during a rainy afternoon in the library. Adrian was at his desk, reading over military reports, and I was supposed to be cataloguing trade ledgers.

Instead, I stood near the window, holding a book I wasn’t reading, rehearsing my opening line.

“My lord,” I began, keeping my voice light, “I’ve been wondering… do you ever get lonely in this big place?”

He looked up. Slowly. The kind of slow that made my skin prickle. “Lonely?”

“Yes. I mean, you have all these people working for you, but no one really close to you. No one to… share things with.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “Are you offering?”

My heart stuttered. “I—uh—only if you want—”

“Come here.”

I took two cautious steps toward him. He didn’t move, just tracked me with his eyes until I stood at the corner of his desk. Then, without breaking eye contact, he reached up and took the book from my hand, placing it aside.

“You’re not very good at hiding your intentions, Ren,” he murmured.

My stomach dropped. Did he know I was trying to change the ending?

He leaned forward, his hands braced on the desk. “But I like that about you.”

Okay… maybe this was working?

The next few days, I doubled down. I brought him tea when it wasn’t my job. I stayed in the study even when my tasks were done. I made small talk about the weather, his favorite books, anything to get him talking.

And it worked — sort of.

He started asking me to accompany him everywhere — meetings, dinners, even short rides to the nearby village. At first, I thought it was progress. Then I realized he wasn’t just inviting me. He was removing my other options.

On the sixth day, I tried to join the kitchen staff for lunch. Ten minutes later, Adrian appeared, sitting down at my side as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The conversation at the table died instantly.

“I thought you might enjoy dining with me instead,” he said, his hand resting lightly on the back of my chair.

The weight of it wasn’t heavy — but it was anchoring.

That night, as I prepared to leave the study, he spoke without looking up from his paperwork.

“Ren.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“You’ve been spending too much time thinking about others.”

I hesitated. “I… didn’t realize—”

He finally looked at me. The faint smile on his lips didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll help you remember where you belong.”

It should have been comforting. It wasn’t.

I left with the uneasy realization that my little “romance plan” wasn’t pulling him into my story.

It was pulling me into his.