"I think it's okay for us to start living."
*****
In a fanfiction universe full of cliches, absurd plot-proceedings, and a depressing number of death flags, Clarity is determined to do everything in her power t...
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It was three months ago that Lune woke up in another world
The sky was still inundated in darkness, and in the unfamiliar setting, Lune's eyes shifted from left to right, taking in her surroundings. She was lying on a bed. It was a soft, spacious bed that did not she did not have the privilege to enjoy in her old life. Her fingers wiggled below, feeling the creases and silky fabric of the blanket beneath her.
Slowly, Lune pulled herself up in a sitting position, only to realize her body was abnormally heavy.
Illuminated by the dim moonlight, the room was beautifully appointed, furnished with cool-toned furnitures that barely took up any space due to the room's spacious setting.
The last thing she recalled before losing consciousness was the transmigration ritual. She had used her own book as a test sample, only for it to actually work!
As a fanfiction writer, Lune wrote countless self-insert stories where she could write herself into the place of Y/N. It wasn't a simple fantasy. No, it was more than that. Candles, incense, location—everything had to be in place for her creation.
People around her called her insane, but they simply did not understand.
Lune was sure of it. For every story she wrote, she was getting closer to the BTS members.
Not only was she experiencing everything with them in her fanfictions, but she was also getting closer to them in real life. Their addresses, unreleased schedules, fly times—she knew everything about BTS.
Otherwise, how could she call herself a true fan?
One day, her feelings would reach them. She was sure of it. The successful transmigration was the ultimate proof of the innate connection between her and the seven men.
"I can't believe the ritual worked..." Lune muttered out in felicity, only to gasp at her voice that had fell octaves deeper.
Her eyes widened in horror.
It was a man's voice.
Panic rising within her, Lune touched her face frantically, only to feel the rough skin and stubs under her chin. Heart beat accelerating, she scrambled off the bed and dashed into the washroom. The sensory lights enabled under her heavy steps, and she faced the mirror, expecting to see a black-haired, hazel-eyed girl staring back at her.
She did not see that.
Instead, reflected in the mirror was a middle-aged man with short, black hair and eyes narrowed with fatigued.
Dazed, she touched her right cheek, and the man before her mirrored her action.
A wave of nausea hit her as Lune spun towards the toilet seat behind her, hurled over, and emptied her stomach.
