A bright light. A rush of wind. The sound of a horn—then pain.
I remember that much. One second, I was arguing with my so-called "best friend," and the next, I was flying through the air like a ragdoll. The truck didn't stop. Not that it mattered.
I was dead.
Or so I thought.
When I woke up, I wasn't in a hospital. I wasn't even in my world.
I sat up slowly, feeling a soft silk bed under my fingers. The ceiling above me was painted with golden patterns, glowing slightly under the light of a chandelier. A massive canopy bed surrounded me, draped in fabric that looked too expensive to exist.
And then I saw my hands.
Bigger. Stronger. Different.
I scrambled off the bed, running to the nearest mirror. What I saw made my heart race.
A boy stared back at me—me. But not the "me" I used to be.
Messy silver hair. Sharp, charming eyes. A lean, handsome face.
I wasn't just any boy. I was beautiful.
I blinked. Once. Twice. My reflection did the same.
Then it hit me.
I really am a boy.
For a moment, I just stood there, grinning like an idiot. My entire life, I had cross-dressed, acted like a boy, and wished I could be one. Now, I actually was.
"Perfect," I whispered, a thrill running through me.
I turned away from the mirror, already thinking.
New life. New body. New world.
This meant one thing. It was time to start a love story.
---
A Rich Family Means...Problems
I barely had time to explore before the bodyguards arrived.
Not one. Not two.
Ten.
Each of them stood in perfect formation, their eyes sharp and cold, dressed in expensive uniforms. They carried swords, but something told me they didn't need weapons to be dangerous.
"Young master, your father has ordered us to stay by your side at all times," the leader said, bowing slightly.
I smiled sweetly. "That won't be necessary."
None of them moved.
Ah. Right. They weren't normal bodyguards. They were elites.
Which meant... this was going to be a problem.
If my family was this powerful, how was I supposed to meet cute boys if everyone was too scared to approach me?
No, no, no. This wouldn't do. I needed a plan.
So I did what any genius would do.
I pretended to be sick.
"Ah… I feel weak," I sighed, dramatically touching my forehead. "I think I need to rest."
The bodyguards exchanged glances, concerned. Perfect.
"If I'm so fragile," I continued, "surely I don't need so many people around me all the time?"
One of the younger guards looked conflicted. "But the master said—"
I coughed. Loudly. Dramatically.
"Fine," the leader said after a long pause. "We will keep our distance… for now."
Step one: complete.
Now, it was time for step two.
Finding my perfect love story.
---
The First Encounter with Him
I snuck out to the garden, enjoying my first moment of freedom. The sky was bright, the flowers smelled amazing, and—
There.
By the fountain.
A tall, muscular boy with messy black hair and sharp, piercing eyes. His uniform was slightly undone, his posture relaxed, but there was something dangerous about him.
He was alone, staring at the water, deep in thought.
I recognized that look.
Depression.
Ah. He's the one.
Before I could think of a plan, his gaze snapped to me. For a moment, we just stared at each other.
Then he frowned.
"Who are you?" His voice was rough, guarded.
I smiled, playing the role of the sweet, innocent boy.
"Hello," I said cheerfully. "I was just out for some fresh air. What about you?"
He didn't answer right away. His eyes narrowed slightly.
"You should stay away from me."
I tilted my head, acting curious. "Why?"
He exhaled sharply. "Because I don't like people."
Oh, this is going to be fun.
I took a step closer, my eyes shining with fake innocence. "Then I'll just have to make you like me."
His expression flickered for a moment—surprise, maybe even amusement—but it was gone in an instant.
He turned away. "Do whatever you want."
And just like that, I knew.
This was the beginning of my perfect love story.