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The church fell into stunned silence as the doors burst open. Gasps rippled through the guests, stiff-backed family members frozen in their pews.
Jeong Taeui blinked, his mind still reeling from the disorienting shift. One moment he’d been reading that damned novel on his phone during a late-night commute, lamenting the tragic backstory of the first husband who died young and unloved. The next second he was here, standing at the altar in a white suit that wasn’t his, staring at a beautiful woman in a flowing wedding dress. Her name floated into his consciousness like a plot device: the female lead, radiant and composed, though her eyes now widened in shock.
The priest’s mouth hung open mid-sentence. “If any man has reason to object to this union—”
“I object,” the silver-haired man declared, voice carrying through the vaulted hall without effort.
Ilay.
Even without the novel’s detailed descriptions, Taeui recognized him instantly. The second male lead — no, the male lead in every sense that mattered. Tall, imposing, with that signature silver hair falling just so over piercing eyes and a face carved by gods who clearly played favorites. His tailored black suit looked more suited for a funeral than a wedding. Or perhaps that was the point.
Before Taeui could process the absurdity of his situation (transmigrated into a body that was supposed to be dead in a few years?), Ilay was already moving. Long strides ate up the distance down the aisle. Guests whispered furiously. The bride’s bouquet trembled in her hands.
“W-what are you doing?!” Taeui finally managed. His new body felt foreign, taller than he remembered being, but currently rooted in place by sheer panic.
Ilay didn’t answer with words. He simply reached the altar, wrapped one arm around Taeui’s waist like he weighed nothing, and dragged him.
Taeui stumbled, his shoe slipping on the marble as he was pulled away from the bride, away from the priest, away from the entire scripted tragedy he was supposed to fulfill.
“Hey—! Let go!” Taeui hissed, trying to dig his heels in. It was useless. Ilay’s grip was strong. Heat radiated from where the man’s hand pressed firmly against his side, fingers digging into the fabric of the suit jacket.
The silver-haired man finally glanced down at him with a smirk. Up close, those eyes were even more intense. “You don’t belong here,” Ilay murmured low enough that only Taeui could hear. “Not with her.”
The church erupted into chaos behind them. The bride called out in confusion, the priest sputtered about sacrilege, and several older relatives looked ready to faint. But Ilay didn’t stop. He marched them both down the aisle toward the open doors, dragging a bewildered Jeong Taeui along like a reluctant bride himself.
Taeui’s heart raced. This wasn’t how the story was supposed to go. The first husband was meant to marry, live miserably for a few years, then die conveniently so the female lead could end up with Ilay. So why was the villainous male lead crashing the wedding now? Why was he looking at him like that?
As they stepped out into the bright sunlight, Ilay finally released his waist only to grab Taeui’s wrist instead, tugging him toward a sleek black car idling at the curb.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Taeui protested, digging in his heels again. “This is insane. You can’t just kidnap me from my own wedding!”
Ilay paused, turning to face him fully. The breeze ruffled his silver hair. “Kidnap?” He let out a soft laugh. “Consider it a rescue, Taeui. You have no idea what kind of cage you were walking into.”
Taeui swallowed hard. The novel’s plot was already derailing spectacularly, and he was at the center of it — literally being pulled into the arms of the man who was never supposed to notice the tragic first husband.
“Now,” Ilay said, opening the car door with his free hand, “get in. We have a lot to discuss.”
Taeui hesitated for half a second, glancing back at the church where shouts were growing louder.
Then, with the strange thrill of someone who had nothing left to lose in this borrowed life, he climbed into the car.
The door was closed and the vehicle pulled away, leaving the ruined wedding and Taeui’s predetermined fate far behind.
—!!!
Taeui shot upright in bed, cold sweat clinging to his skin. The sheets pooled around his waist, and the familiar scent of their bedroom slowly grounded him.
He wasn’t in the car. There was no screaming wedding chaos. He was in their bedroom, the one with tall windows overlooking the city skyline. The glow of dawn was just beginning to bleed across the horizon.
The silver-haired man was already sitting up, one eyebrow arched in amusement and mild concern. His hair was tousled from sleep, falling messily over his forehead, and he wore nothing but a pair of black pants. Without a word, Ilay reached for the glass of water on the nightstand, poured a fresh one from the pitcher, and handed it over.
“Bad dream?” Ilay asked, voice gentle in the way it only ever was for him. He leaned back against the headboard, watching Taeui closely.
Taeui took a long sip, buying time. The cold water helped chase away the lingering dream. God, that felt too real. The way Ilay had dragged him down the aisle, the possessive grip, the smirk... it was almost funny how accurate his subconscious had been.
He opened his mouth. “You... kidnapped me from my we—”
The words nearly slipped out. He caught them just in time, snapping his jaw shut.
Bad idea. Terrible idea.
Ilay’s other eyebrow rose to join the first. “From your what?”
Taeui quickly shook his head, forcing a slightly sheepish smile. “Nothing. Itʼs just a weird dream. Lots of running. People yelling. You know how dreams are — complete nonsense.”
He set the glass down and rubbed his face with both hands, trying to play it cool. But Ilay wasn’t the type to let things slide so easily. The man moved closer, one arm sliding around Taeui’s waist, pulling him back against his chest effortlessly. Warm skin pressed against Taeui’s back, and he could feel Ilay’s heartbeat.
“Hmm.” Ilay’s lips brushed the shell of his ear. “You were about to say something else. Something about a wedding.” His voice lowered. “Were you marrying someone else in this dream of yours, Taeui?”
Taeui stiffened. Shit. He knew that tone. Ilay could be downright insufferable, possessive, and annoyingly smug whenever the topic of Taeui even looking at someone else came up. A dream version? That would fuel him for days.
“No one important,” Taeui muttered, leaning back into the embrace despite himself. “Just some random nightmare. You showed up and caused a scene, as usual. Dragged me out like a caveman.”
Ilay chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through Taeui’s spine. His fingers traced patterns on Taeui’s stomach. “Good. Even in your dreams, you know better than to belong to anyone else.” He pressed a kiss to the side of Taeui’s neck. “Though I do like the idea of crashing a wedding to steal you away. Sounds romantic.”
Taeui groaned. “You would think that.”
Ilay tightened his hold, turning Taeui in his arms until they were face to face. His eyes looked into his. “Want to talk about the rest of it?”
Taeui hesitated, then shook his head and buried his face against Ilay’s shoulder instead. The dream would hopefully fade soon, replaced by the solid reality of Ilay’s arms around him.
“Not really. Let me stay like this for a bit longer.”
Ilay hummed in satisfaction, one hand threading gently through Taeui’s hair. “As if I’d let you go anywhere.”