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

Ye Jishu reflexively closed his eyes to keep his retinas from stinging.

The darkness before him suddenly shifted.

A few seconds later, he opened his eyes.

Thick black mist swirled in the space before him.

However, what first caught his attention wasn’t the eerie fog but the familiar figure standing right in front of him.

[Yan Mei], standing within reach, silently gazed at him.

The moment he saw him clearly, Ye Jishu’s eyes widened sharply, and all chaotic thoughts vanished.

And on his body—

What… exactly is this…?

What is this?

Even someone as emotionally detached as him felt as though he had been struck hard, his mind going blank as he could only stare dumbfoundedly at the scene before him.

[What exactly is this—]

His mind was flooded with this thought.

[What is this—what exactly is this?]

[Is there something wrong with my brain? Or is it because I’ve stayed up too long? A cerebral thrombosis? Am I hallucinating?]

Because the sight before him could no longer be explained by “a novel’s plot” or “something abnormal.”

Yan Mei’s face was still breathtakingly beautiful.

His mere presence seemed to dye the entire space in hues of infatuation and admiration, enough to make one forget how to breathe.

But in stark contrast to his overwhelming beauty—

From behind him stretched a grotesque and massive shadow, twisting and distorting his human figure, wrapping around him in an oppressive shroud of fear and nausea.

It was a monster cloaked in human skin.

At the same time, thick, viscous black liquid writhed and churned on the floor, making soft splattering sounds like raindrops falling.

[That’s not black liquid.]

It was an uncountable number of tentacles clinging to the floor.

They slithered and twisted, swaying in the air. Some had even reached where Ye Jishu stood.

Something was still pressed against his lower back.

From the way it slid and caressed him, there was no doubt—it was the tentacles on the floor.

Humans… don’t grow tentacles.

No matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise, he couldn’t lie his way out of this.

Not anymore.

Tentacles didn’t move with the rhythm of someone’s breathing, didn’t consciously slip under his shirt and stroke him.

And perhaps because he had seen the truth—

Under Ye Jishu’s gaze, the tentacles on his body grew even more frenzied, more aggressive and unrestrained.

Even though the tentacles weren’t directly attached to Yan Mei—

They stretched from all corners of the room, yet their core, beyond a doubt, was him.

Because at the ends of those tentacles—

Yan Mei was watching him.

There was warmth in his eyes. And…

A certain expectation.

At this very moment, there was no doubt—

All of his attention was on Ye Jishu. Even the smallest movement wouldn’t escape him.

If it were before, Ye Jishu…

But now, his mind had turned to mush, filled with incomprehensible questions.

[This is a novel’s world, filled with countless irrational situations.]

That’s what he had always told himself.

[But—]

[This has completely shattered my psychological defenses.]

In Ye Jishu’s mind, this was just an ordinary Mary Sue campus novel.

Nothing strange, no supernatural elements.

No matter how many bugs appeared in the plot, it wouldn’t suddenly shift into a horror scene.

Even if this were some bizarre game plot twist, this shouldn’t be happening.

But reality proved otherwise—

The tentacles creeping in through the hem of his coat, the collar of his shirt, even the gaps between his buttons—all left a stinging sensation on his skin.

Yan Mei… had been acting strange for a while now.

With that realization, Ye Jishu instinctively took a step back.

Because of this retreat, his elbow unintentionally pressed against something blocking his path.

The moment he felt the wet, slippery texture against his skin, a shudder ran through him.

…He had touched it.

That tentacle. That… fleshy mass.

[This is real.]

[Because if it were a hallucination, I wouldn’t be able to touch it.]

He couldn’t keep deceiving himself.

Ye Jishu lifted his head.

He wanted to reaffirm the reality of his situation.

And if his eyes weren’t deceiving him—

From the thick black mist, countless eyeballs emerged.

Those eyes blinked open and shut, gazing at him from every corner of the room.

They were only waiting for permission—

To draw closer. To cling to him, thick and sticky.

They were all fixated on him.

Even when Ye Jishu merely breathed, they turned with wet, gurgling sounds, never letting him out of their sight.

As for Yan Mei—

Though he hadn’t spoken, and his expression remained as gentle as ever—

From within the mist, from the depths of those countless eyes…

A whisper echoed, over and over.

“Jishu… Jishu…”

It was as if Yan Mei’s inner voice had been amplified infinitely, teetering between illusion and reality.

Meeting that gaze—

Ye Jishu’s heart stopped for a moment.

More than the tentacles coiling around his ankles, preventing him from running—

It was the delicate, unceasing murmurs that crushed him under an invisible weight.

[Yan Mei… is watching me.]

Why was he watching?

Was he waiting for him… to react? But how was he supposed to react?

His mind was in complete chaos.

And then, the voice in front of him spoke.

“Jishu.”

With Yan Mei’s words, the countless eyes and tentacles let out a soft creaking sound.

Yan Mei took a step closer.

“Do you see clearly now?”

He deliberately lowered his voice, softer than usual, sending a shiver down Ye Jishu’s spine.

“Jishu, this… is the real me.”

[The real…?]

Ye Jishu stood frozen.

His gaze was locked onto the scene before him, unable to look away.

At first glance, the eyes looked like the delicate patterns on butterfly wings.

But the moment he realized they were countless, actual eyeballs, a deep, crawling horror gripped his skin.

It was terrifying—utterly beyond comprehension.

Anyone with a shred of normal sanity, upon seeing this, would undoubtedly be overwhelmed with nausea and dizziness.

Although Ye Jishu had played many action games, some of which contained disgusting visuals, those were, at the end of the day, just games. No matter how terrifying, they remained confined behind the screens of computers and phones—there was no way they could appear in the real world… so it never mattered to him.

However—

These things.

Now, they had manifested right beside him.

The sheer visual impact they brought was beyond anything the brain could simulate through mere imagination.

Only by seeing them with his own eyes could he truly grasp the eerie suffocation they induced.

So terrifying.

So horrifying!

The human brain surely had a defense mechanism.

Because Ye Jishu never thought he would be able to stand still in place, unfazed.

“I knew it. Jishu wouldn’t be like those other boring, cowardly humans, immediately trembling and screaming on the ground in fear. Just like that Professor Chen—he went insane the moment I appeared in front of him… So dull.”

Yan Mei’s eyes gleamed with contempt and ridicule.

Yet, when his gaze landed on Ye Jishu, all the negative emotions on his face vanished in an instant, replaced entirely by pure sweetness.

If there were a mirror allowing Yan Mei to see his own expression at that moment…

He would realize—

That it was the same look of irrevocable, all-consuming love he often saw on the faces of others.

That pure, devoted, sacrificial kind of love—disgusting to behold.

But now, Yan Mei no longer cared if he was the same as those humans.

Because with Jishu like this, there was no way he could ever let go of him.

I like him so much…

He reached out, gently taking Ye Jishu’s hand that hung at his side, clasping it in his own.

He could no longer hold back.

The moment their hands touched, the tentacles withdrew from Ye Jishu’s body.

Yet, because of that, an inexplicable emptiness crept into him.

All his senses converged on the point where their hands met.

Ye Jishu’s body still bore the red marks left by the tentacles’ torment, a faint itch lingering on his skin—but he could no longer bring himself to care.

The other person seemed to be in a very good mood.

Ye Jishu numbly watched as Yan Mei, looking utterly satisfied, cradled his fingers in his palm, rubbing them with the tenderness of one treasuring a rare gem. From time to time, he would bring them to his lips, kissing them again and again.

The countless eyes surrounding them continued to stare, unblinking.

Strangely, a suffocating sense of humiliation from being watched by all of them welled up inside him.

[Those eyes… they belong to Yan Mei too, don’t they?]

The thought completely took over Ye Jishu’s already scrambled mind.

Even though his face remained expressionless, his brain had turned into a chaotic mess of tangled thoughts.

When common sense is utterly shattered in an instant, the human mind cannot focus on what’s happening before it.

Before Ye Jishu’s eyes, Yan Mei’s figure was beginning to blur.

[So, all these abnormalities… they’ve always been monsters. Monsters. They’ve always been by my side. I’ve never truly lived an ordinary human life.]

That was the only explanation for the grotesque presence invading his body, the countless eyes floating in the air.

But if that were true—

Ye Jishu’s breath hitched violently.

A lump seemed to form in his throat, his eardrums filled with a rushing sound, his heartbeat and pulse thudding in sync.

Suddenly, the thought he had been avoiding flooded his mind with terrifying clarity—

[Yan Mei is the monster closest to him right now.]

More than the pulsing in his temples, the twitching of his eyelids, what surged through him first was a paralyzing fear so intense it numbed his fingertips.

The realization crashed down on Ye Jishu like a hammer blow.

Yan Mei seemed to be saying something.

“Jishu never really knew the real me. Instead, you only listened to what others said about liking me, and just assumed that I would be loved by everyone—

But you never thought to ask if I even wanted that kind of love.”

“No matter how many people claim to love me, it doesn’t matter.

Because the only love I care about… is Jishu’s.”

Ye Jishu, still drowning in his panic, abruptly noticed Yan Mei reaching out toward his cheek. Instinctively, he jerked back a step, dodging the touch.

Yan Mei’s hand froze in midair.

“…You avoided me.”

He looked down at his own hand, silent for a long moment.

Then, as if realizing something,

Those once-clear eyes abruptly darkened, sinking into a lifeless murk as he fixed his gaze on Ye Jishu’s face.

“Jishu?”

This was the second time Yan Mei had called his name.

Ye Jishu’s fingers twitched at his side.

A violent internal struggle was tearing through his mind, keeping him from responding immediately.

The person in front of him lowered his gaze slightly, whispering, “Jishu… is it that—

You don’t want me to touch you?”

Just like last time… you’re pushing me away again.

His voice carried a trace of grievance.

Ye Jishu snapped back to reality, instinctively wanting to explain as he had always done, not wanting the other to sink into a depressive state.

“I…”

But the words died in his throat.

Because his eyes caught sight of the eerie eyes and the black mist surrounding them.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean that.”

He had only hesitated for a moment.

But that moment of hesitation—Yan Mei had caught it entirely.

When Yan Mei looked up again, the gloom in his eyes had vanished.

Instead, an abrupt, out-of-place smile curled his lips.

“I understand. Of course, I understand—

As long as Jishu says it, I’ll believe it. You wouldn’t lie to me.”

“…You promised, after all.”

“Then come here.” Yan Mei remained motionless, eyes locked onto him.

“Come to me. I want Jishu to touch me.”

He was patient, coaxing him.

Because, in the past, as long as the request wasn’t too excessive, Ye Jishu would eventually go along with it.

Even if, for now, he was just dodging him—

Yan Mei knew that soon, Jishu would accept it.

Because Jishu liked him too.

All he had to do was endure, like always—

In his vision, Ye Jishu’s eyes wavered, shaken for a fleeting moment, then suddenly, he seemed to steel himself.

He lifted his gaze, meeting Yan Mei’s eyes.

“But… haven’t we already broken up?”