Qiao Yi never believed in fate, curses… or haunted novels.
Yet here he was, curled up on his bed with a single book in his hands. The lamp beside him flickered, throwing long shadows across his small apartment.
"Kiss of the Shadow."
The cover was black as midnight, embossed with silver letters that shimmered in the dim light. Qiao Yi had found it tucked away in a forgotten corner of the bookstore. He bought it on a whim—and now, he couldn't put it down.
Each page dragged him deeper: the male lead's cold gaze, the heroine's trembling hand, the creeping shadows that seemed almost… alive. Qiao Yi shivered, half in excitement, half in fear.
"…It's just a story," he muttered.
But stories, he was about to learn, have a way of escaping their pages.
The wind outside rattled the windowpane. Shadows in his room stretched unnaturally. And then, with a whisper that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere, the words on the page began to shimmer.
"Your story begins now."
Before he could react, the room spun. The lamp's light vanished, replaced by flickering candlelight. A cold draft snaked around him. Dust filled the air. And a voice, deep and chilling, murmured:
"Welcome, Qiao Yi. You are part of this story now."
He stumbled forward, reaching for the book. The pages were blank. The familiar walls of his bedroom were gone.
And somewhere in the shadows, a tall figure appeared. Dark eyes like midnight pierced through him.
"You shouldn't have come here," the figure said.
Qiao Yi's heart raced—not just from fear, but from an irresistible pull he didn't understand.
The story he hard been reading wasn't fiction anymore.
It was alive.
And he was trapped inside it.