My Boyfriend is the Heartthrob, and I’m Just a Passerby.

[How did things end up like this?]

Between Wei Yangze’s fingers, his cigarette burned, the scorching heat licking at his skin.

But he didn’t feel a thing.

His eyes remained locked on the dormitory building before him.

Amidst the raging storm, its lights flickered—like a broken hologram on a damaged electronic screen.

Rain poured down in torrents.

Yet, the weather app on his phone still displayed clear skies.

Wei Yangze knew.

He was no longer in the real world.

This was a special space—a distorted dimension he had been pulled into.

Everything around him had vanished.

In the endless darkness, only the dormitory building remained within his sight.

[This was the result of three layers of infection overlapping—a distortion beyond anything ever recorded.]

Wei Yangze took a deep breath.

The first time—

Wen Yuhe had abandoned all restraint, choosing to infect his surroundings.

Because of that, no unnecessary people appeared.

Behind those dormitory doors, the once-normal students had already mutated—there was no one left who would foolishly interfere with his approach toward Ye Jishu.

Then, the roommate entered the dormitory.

As a [third-stage] entity, it had long lost its human form.

But in return, it gained the ability to unfold a completely independent space.

This space, in turn, was layered atop Wen Yuhe’s infection—

Yet, if this second source of infection merely altered the environment—

Then the third overlay completely shattered the space itself.

[Yan Mei] had appeared.

Because—

Just by standing there, on the staircase—

The very presence of Wen Yuhe and the roommate was erased.

Reality around the dormitory began to collapse.

Even knowing how dire the situation was, Wei Yangze had been standing here for over ten minutes.

He had heard gunshots from the stairwell—

Yet he hadn’t stepped in.

Because—

At long last, headquarters had responded.

[Four months. It took them four months to reply to a report about their fallen teammate. What the hell were they doing?]

That would be the first thought of any normal person.

But Wei Yangze realized—this meant something far worse.

Headquarters wasn’t inefficient.

Their task reports were processed by an immense, systematic terminal—there was no chance of information simply being “missed.”

That meant—

His report had been deliberately ignored.

There was only one explanation—

[Headquarters had its own agenda.]

But what did that mean?

Wei Yangze wasn’t sure what he had hoped to see.

But whatever came next—

It wasn’t what he wanted.

The response was brief.

Cold, precise—straight to the point.

A signature system-generated reply.

Headquarters Response:

[We have been monitoring Ye Jishu for some time.]

[We are aware of his anomalies. We know he is a stabilizing anchor for reality.]

[Because of this, we have been observing him. The normalcy of this district exists solely to maintain his mental state. The Source of Infection variables serve only to keep the system dynamic.]

[Including you, and secondary-level employee Lin Lin.]

What…

Wei Yangze felt like his skull had been struck—

A violent dizziness surged through his mind.

What the hell was this?

Was this some kind of Truman Show?

Was he nothing more than a line of data in some vast algorithm?

No wonder his report had disappeared.

No wonder Lin Lin had left, only to return.

Because this place had a reason that forced them back.

Just like him.

If not for his teammate’s death, he would have long been transferred out of this district—

Yet, here he remained—trapped in this endless rainy night.

They were all just pieces in an algorithmic system—

Indispensable [characters]—trapped in the past, pushing the so-called “story” forward.

And Ye Jishu…

He was the [protagonist who doesn’t know he’s the protagonist.]

Living a predetermined life—

Like a goldfish in a bowl.

A seemingly transparent world—

But in truth, a cage that shackled his entire existence.

[…But then?]

A thought flashed through Wei Yangze’s mind.

If Ye Jishu was the goldfish being carefully protected—

Then—

That entity—the one whose identity still defied all comprehension—

Why has it appeared here?

This… this wasn’t planned.

He knew, with absolute certainty—

This was not part of the script.

No one at headquarters had the qualification, the ability, or the means to allow an existence like him into this plan.

Even those above him, the Special Grade, were no exception.

His instincts screamed that Yan Mei was definitely not as simple as just an [Source of Infection].

Because [Source of Infection] were all converted from humans.

He was absolutely not human.

[Yan Mei].

Up until now, they had only crossed paths once, brushing past each other on the staircase. Yan Mei hadn’t even spared him a glance.

Yet, an indescribable terror had crawled through his bones, slithered along his muscles.

And now, after headquarters had revealed the truth, their order was clear: Wei Yangze must not interfere…

A vague suspicion surfaced in his mind.

[Even the Control Bureau hadn’t anticipated that he would appear there.]

[Even less did they expect the two to form a connection.]

[Originally, no one should have ever noticed Ye Jishu. He was meant to remain a mere background character.]

But even so, he had been noticed.

Wei Yangze shivered.

How absurd.

In both the Inner World and the Real World, the disparity between them was like heaven and earth.

How could someone like that notice a mere speck of dust?

What had the Control Bureau done? What kind of strange thoughts had they implanted?

Ye Jishu had never formed deep connections with anyone. He had lived a monotonous, uneventful life, just as planned.

But a few months ago, everything changed.

Why would a prominent existence like [Yan Mei] become his lover?

Why was he so obsessed with Ye Jishu?

Why would he rather suppress himself, play the role of an ordinary student, than ever leave Ye Jishu’s side?

Even when those [Source of Infection] foolishly showed themselves, even when the Control Bureau’s clueless, irritating agents loitered about—he never acted.

He could have easily taken care of them, yet he hadn’t.

Four months.

If he wanted, he could have done anything by now.

But instead? He was simply living a college student’s life.

Wei Yangze couldn’t comprehend it no matter how hard he tried.

At the core of it all—why did he care so much about a human who, in most people’s eyes, was utterly insignificant?

It made no sense.

Was it affection? Love?

Could an existence like that even possess emotions that only normal living beings had?

Wei Yangze remained where he was, ordered to stand by.

Because even the Control Bureau didn’t know the real cause of this situation. They were afraid of making the wrong move.

Headquarters must have done something without realizing it.

They must have manipulated Ye Jishu’s rationality just enough for him to accept it, then arranged for Wei Yangze and the others to appear, nudging things forward step by step.

[Because of love, this happened.]

[Only because of love.]

But if it really was [love]…

Wei Yangze felt a chill crawl up his rain-soaked back.

Even Ye Jishu himself might not be able to handle such an intense, overwhelming obsession.

But if he chose to avoid it—

What would happen then?

The entire dormitory fell into dead silence.

No rain could be heard, yet an unbearable humidity pressed in from all directions.

With each step the figure in front of him took, Bo Zhehan instinctively backed away—until his back hit the wall.

No way to escape.

“Plop.”

If Ye Jishu hadn’t grabbed him, he would have collapsed to the floor in sheer panic.

But the next moment, he regretted letting out a breath of relief.

Because he saw it.

Yan Mei’s gaze shifted to their clasped wrists.

And stopped there.

“…You two are close?”

Bo Zhehan’s eyes widened in fear, cold sweat trickling down his forehead.

How was he supposed to answer that?

He and Ye Jishu were roommates. He also deeply admired Ye Jishu—so their relationship should be considered close, right?

Ye Jishu: “Not particularly.”

“….”

Bo Zhehan.

Should he feel relieved or utterly devastated?

Yan Mei smiled at that response.

As if the previous moment of cold hostility had been nothing more than an illusion of a rainy night.

[Terrifying.]

The thought surfaced in Bo Zhehan’s mind.

A chilling fear spread through his limbs.

And yet, what was truly terrifying—was that he had no idea why he felt this way.

In his vision, Yan Mei was still as breathtaking as ever.

Just looking at that face stirred an indescribable admiration in his heart.

…So why was he afraid?

He should have been happy, excited even, to be noticed.

Yet goosebumps prickled his skin, shivers running down his spine as Yan Mei’s gaze swept over him.

At some point, Ye Jishu had let go of his wrist.

Bo Zhehan propped himself up on his elbows, struggling to shift backward.

Yan Mei’s voice was soft: “I bought you a gift while I was out on a trip.”

“Is anyone in the dorm? I’ll leave it on your desk later.”

“There’s someone there.” Ye Jishu replied. “But the door isn’t locked.”

Even though Bo Zhehan had just dragged him out of the room in a rush, Wen Yuhe and another roommate were still inside.

He caught a glimpse of Wen Yuhe’s stunned expression.

At Ye Jishu’s words, Yan Mei simply responded, “Is that so?”

Then he reached out—

And hooked his fingers around Ye Jishu’s, intertwining them loosely before tightening the grip for a few fleeting seconds.

[…]

There was something indescribable about the sensation.

Ye Jishu lowered his gaze, watching as Yan Mei turned over his wrist.

Like handling a precious artifact, Yan Mei carefully examined it, as if checking for any lingering traces of another person.

Under his gaze,

His cold fingers ghosted over Ye Jishu’s skin, slowly, deliberately, pressing over the faint red marks Bo Zhehan had left earlier.

A damp, lingering breath.

Only after a few seconds did Yan Mei finally lift his head.

He stared intently and said, “Then be good and wait here for me, Jishu. Before I come back, don’t talk to anyone.”

Although his tone was gentle,

[Was this a request or a command?]

“I’ll be back soon.”

Under Ye Jishu’s gaze, Yan Mei merely smiled slightly, his eyes swirling with dark clouds. He released Ye Jishu’s wrist and walked upstairs.

Passing by the stairwell wall, Bo Zhehan shrank back again, doing his best to minimize his presence. But Yan Mei no longer spared him a glance and instead slowly ascended the stairs.

At the edge of the staircase, only the green emergency lights glowed below.

The dormitory was shrouded in darkness, with only an old incandescent lamp overhead outlining Yan Mei’s vague silhouette.

He blended into the shadows.

Yet, the corridor remained eerily silent.

It was nothing but pure, absolute stillness, accumulating a bone-chilling coldness deep in one’s heart.

Ye Jishu watched the direction where he disappeared.

A few seconds later, Bo Zhehan suddenly scrambled to his feet, his shadow flickering under the incandescent light.

“Jishu, we have to run!!!”

He was on the verge of tears.

Even though he didn’t fully understand what had just happened, his instincts screamed that this was anything but normal.

“We need to leave while they’re not here… I’m begging you.”

Lin Lin’s instructions were to keep Ye Jishu unaware of [that world]—but they never said they couldn’t run.

They had to leave immediately.

If they didn’t act fast, there would be no turning back…!

Just like how a game has a preset threshold.

Once the opportunity was missed, there would be no way to fix things—unless they restarted the progress.

But in the real world, how could there possibly be a restart option?!

However, under Bo Zhehan’s desperate, pleading gaze, Ye Jishu finally shifted his eyes away from the staircase and looked at him.

“No.”

“What—”

“Yan Mei told me not to. So I won’t.”

Bo Zhehan’s heart stopped.

That’s right.

How could he have forgotten?

Ye Jishu finally heard movement coming from the staircase.

And an eerie dripping sound.

Leaning against the wall alone, he wasn’t using his phone. Instead, he lifted his head toward the source of the noise.

“Drip.”

“Drip.”

Why was there water here?

Ye Jishu narrowed his eyes, trying to see where the sound was coming from.

The next moment, Yan Mei’s voice suddenly emerged from the darkness.

“…Jishu, you’re still here waiting for me.”

His figure appeared within the dim halo of the incandescent light.

Those deep, dark eyes, as if witnessing something unbelievable, lit up with an astonishing brightness.

“You didn’t leave.”

“Mm.” Ye Jishu responded.

Hearing his answer, for the first time, pure and untainted joy surfaced in Yan Mei’s gaze.

The person who had captivated him at first sight, who had made him lose his dignity and reason, who had driven him to a feverish obsession—

Was also the very existence that evoked fear.

Just now, Yan Mei had said…

That he would be back soon.

[What did that mean?]

Bo Zhehan looked at Ye Jishu in a panic, only to realize that his expression didn’t show the terror one would expect when their life was threatened.

Instead, his face remained calm, as if everything was just normal.

[…]

“You should go,” Ye Jishu said. “I have something I need to tell him.”

“…”

Ye Jishu looked at him in confusion. “Do you want to stay?”

Just moments ago, he had been so agitated he nearly cried.

But now, he just stood there staring, as if he were looking at something utterly incomprehensible.

Hearing this, Bo Zhehan suddenly snapped out of his daze.

When his eyes met Ye Jishu’s again, his body trembled. A realization struck him, and he murmured,

“You really… like Yan Mei.”

“I won’t for much longer,” Ye Jishu replied.

Bo Zhehan froze, eyes widening as he stared at Ye Jishu.

What… did that mean?

But the other showed no signs of explaining.

And in truth, he wouldn’t.

Ye Jishu slipped his hand into his jacket.

Though everything had happened so suddenly, he had kept the gift on him the whole time.

So now, he wouldn’t need to go back for it.

He had to wait for Yan Mei to return.

Because there was, indeed, something he needed to say.

“Jishu.”

“Mm.”

“Jishu.”

“Mm.”

Each time, Ye Jishu responded.

“What’s wrong?”

Yan Mei: “I’m just so happy that my mind went blank. I just wanted to call your name.”

Ye Jishu was momentarily stunned.

The other person…

Seemed genuinely, truly happy.

[Why does he look like this?]

[Did he think I would just leave like Bo Zhehan?]

Ye Jishu wasn’t someone who paid much attention to things.

Even so, he could sense that many things around him were abnormal.

But he couldn’t allow himself to think too deeply about the reasons why.

[Or rather, how slow would someone have to be to overlook developments that clearly don’t fit reality?]

In this situation, any normal person would have chosen to leave immediately.

But that was only because Ye Jishu knew—

This world was just a novel.

So he ignored everything.

None of it felt strange or out of place to him.

There was no deeper meaning behind it.

Perhaps that was exactly why the Yan Mei before him had formed the illusion that Ye Jishu was special, that he was different from everyone else.

All this time, Ye Jishu had known.

He had deliberately hidden this truth.

He had deceived and misled Yan Mei—

To the point where the other treated someone like him, just a mere [passerby] as something precious.

And now, the only reason he was still standing here…

Was because he had already made up his mind.

[It’s time to correct this mistake.]

[No more delaying.]

Tonight was the perfect time.

If he did it too early, it would seem abrupt.

If he waited too long, the unease bubbling inside him would only continue to grow, making it impossible to face Yan Mei properly.

He had to say it clearly.

Yan Mei should be able to understand.

After all, both their first date and their aquarium visit to make up for it had been failures—proof that they weren’t really compatible.

And Ye Jishu had tried.

He had followed the novel’s script, playing the role of a passerby.

But he didn’t want to.

The suffocating feeling of watching Yan Mei talk to others made it impossible for him to properly follow the plot.

Since that was the case, Ye Jishu wouldn’t force himself.

He had always been someone with low desires, an odd person in other people’s eyes, someone they didn’t want to get close to.

There were no warnings about deviating from the plot, but based on the games he had played and the novels he had read, this kind of situation…

Had a high chance of turning deadly.

But even so—

If not following the story would lead to his death—

Then compared to watching Yan Mei end up with someone else,

It didn’t seem to matter anymore.

Yan Mei walked toward him.

Then, he leaned his head against Ye Jishu’s shoulder, pressing close to his neck, wrapping his arms around him.

Like a child seeking praise, he immediately began speaking excitedly, rubbing his nose against Ye Jishu’s skin.

He was acting spoiled.

From Ye Jishu’s angle, he could see the swirl of hair at the crown of Yan Mei’s head.

“Jishu, I remember that human’s name… Lin Lin, right? You said you liked him, so he’s still doing just fine. I didn’t lay a hand on him.

And as for your roommate… I just made sure they got lost and stopped trying to take you away—so that doesn’t really count, does it?”

“Yan Mei.” Ye Jishu spoke.

He rarely called him by name.

Yan Mei’s movements froze.

“I’ve thought about this for a long time,” Ye Jishu said.

“We should break up.”