Chapter 2: Trapped in a Gilded Cage

Romantic Cinderella was the hottest modern romance web novel, already greenlit for a drama adaptation.
The production was handled by Lizard Productions, where I’d been slaving away as an assistant director for over three years.
In the cutthroat world of contract work in broadcasting, where people quit every few months, I was practically a veteran.
Though my job was less about filmmaking and more about fetching coffee for the director, taking his tantrums, laughing at his nonsense, and pulling all-nighters for grunt work.
Nothing worth putting on a resume.

Then I got hit by a truck and died, only to end up transmigrated into this novel.

‘What kind of nonsense is this…’

Romantic Cinderella lived up to its straightforward title.
The heroine, Bae Ji An, a delicate beauty who stirs protective instincts, grows up in hardship.
She fights through life’s struggles, lands a contract job at Haewon Electronics, meets Choi Do Yoon, a department head two years her senior, falls in love, gets married, and in the epilogue, raises two kids happily ever after.
A predictable story.

Some trashed it online for being old-fashioned in the 21st century, but old-fashioned means classic, and classics are timeless.
Like comfort food, familiar flavors hit the hardest.
The up-and-coming author, already a master of romance, crafted vivid characters that sparked buzz in online communities from the start.
The drama deal was sealed before the novel even finished.

The lead role of the heroine was set for So Eun Bi, a rising star with an ethereal yet melancholic charm.
After her agency signed on, the novel’s illustrations subtly shifted to resemble her face.

I’d read the novel, of course.
It was part of my job, but the story’s tight pacing and cliffhangers kept me hooked, paying for each new chapter.
I read it on my commute, never imagining I’d end up in this mess.

I pause while washing my hands in cold water, staring blankly into the bathroom mirror.

The pale face staring back screams spoiled rich kid.
Thick, dark eyebrows, a sharp nose, a slightly angular jaw, and strikingly red lips—it’s a decent face, objectively.
But the vibe is awful.
Even with drooping eyes and long lashes, it’s shockingly off-putting.
Staring blankly, I look like an arrogant jerk who thinks he owns the world.
I try a small smile, but it only makes me look sly.

When I saw Choi Seung Hee’s face earlier, I was intimidated, but looking at this face, I’m amazed she wasn’t scared of me.

‘Sigh…’

Dying and waking up as a young, wealthy heir should be a dream come true.

The problem is, this character is the protagonist’s half-brother.
In a romance novel, a chaebol protagonist’s half-sibling exists for one of two reasons:
To be a smug rival blocking the hero’s path or to give the hero a traumatic childhood.
Choi Seung Hyun is the latter—and a major villainous side character to boot.

In the original story, as the protagonist Choi Do Yoon starts opening his heart to the heroine, he gets drunk one night and tearfully confesses, ‘I had an unhappy childhood.’
Cue the long, tragic backstory—most of which was caused by Choi Seung Hyun.

‘This is insane…’

As the eldest grandson of the Haewon Group, Choi Seung Hyun grew up spoiled rotten under his grandfather’s unwavering support.
A classic case of no talent but plenty of inferiority complex.
His relationship with his only sister is strained, and he harbors intense hostility toward Choi Do Yoon, the illegitimate half-brother who joined the family later.

‘Is Father planning to hand the company to some bastard who crawled in from the streets?’

Born with everything, Seung Hyun still frets over losing what’s his.
Despite Do Yoon joining the family as a child, Seung Hyun always calls him ‘Lee Do Yoon,’ refusing to acknowledge their shared blood.
He relentlessly tormented his much younger half-brother, from cruel jabs about Do Yoon’s late mother to attempts on his life.

The worst offense? Kidnapping the heroine.
In a romance novel, touching the heroine is a death sentence.

Enraged, Do Yoon resolves to confront Seung Hyun head-on, crushes him, and heroically rescues the heroine from a warehouse.
Seung Hyun is reduced to a plot device for the main couple to confirm their love.

And what happens to him after?
Like any good villain, he’s abandoned by family, friends, and associates, loses everything gambling at Kangwon Land, and meets a miserable end.
Do Yoon’s scheming plays a part, but Seung Hyun’s rotten personality makes it a satisfying, self-inflicted downfall.

Sure, he’s a scumbag, but sharing his name gave me a weird sense of attachment.
Not that I wanted to transmigrate into him.
I should’ve felt that attachment to the protagonist’s best friend, bodyguard, or even a lackey.

‘Can I go back?’

The smug face in the mirror furrows its brow, mimicking my distress.

But there’s a fundamental problem.
Even if I could return, would my real body still be alive?
That massive truck hit me full-on—I doubt I survived.
And if I did, I’m likely a vegetable or drowning in hospital bills.
Worst case, it was a hit-and-run.
Even if they covered my bills, there’s no guarantee I’d recover fully.
I’d lose my job.
Park Seung Hyun’s salary barely scraped past 2 million won a month.

‘Ugh…’

After 29 years of life, it’s depressing that instead of wanting to go back, I’m dreading how hard it would be.
Feeling trapped, I let out heavy sighs.

When I return to the hospital room, Seung Hee is sitting by the bed, legs crossed.
Dressed in sharp slacks, the career woman looks effortlessly polished.
She glances at me and says curtly.

“They confirmed there’s nothing wrong with your head.”

“Oh, okay.”

I cough awkwardly and sit on the bed.
Earlier, the doctors poked and prodded me, ran tests, and shoved me into a massive machine—all for a single bandage on my head.
As I pull the covers over me, Seung Hee speaks again.

“But they said you might have short-term memory loss from the shock.”

“Ah…”

That’s a lucky break.
I need time to mentally review the novel from start to finish anyway.
When I don’t respond, Seung Hee glares at me and continues.

“Don’t try anything funny. It won’t get you out of Grandfather’s birthday.”

“What?”

“They said you’re fine for daily life, just missing some recent memories. Grandfather postponed it to this weekend because of your cracked head, so don’t even think about skipping out. And you’re not the only one who hates seeing that guy, so don’t make a scene.”

That guy?
My mind races.
Someone both Seung Hee and Seung Hyun know, mentioned in the context of Grandfather’s birthday…
It’s got to be the protagonist.
I ask cautiously.

“…Lee Do Yoon?”

“Call him Choi Do Yoon in front of the adults.”

Bingo.
Good thing I read the novel.
I nod, relieved.

“Okay… got it.”

Seung Hee narrows her eyes, her gaze icy, as if daring me to spill any schemes.
I suddenly recall how, in the original story, ‘I’ would scream and sweep everything off the desk like a maniac whenever Do Yoon’s name came up.

‘Do I have to do that now?’

But after a wild drug-fueled party and a fight that got my head smashed, am I supposed to throw a tantrum?
Just thinking about it is exhausting.
I consider it briefly but decide against it.
I’ve got the perfect excuse—short-term memory loss.

Besides, I’m not the type to have wild mood swings.
If I’m stuck living as this guy, it’s better to say my personality changed after the head injury.
More efficient that way.
Seung Hee’s voice cuts through, sharp and stiff.

“Your discharge will be processed soon.”

“No! I want to stay at least one more day.”

I blurt it out instinctively.
I need time alone to figure out what to do next.
Seung Hee snaps, visibly annoyed.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I had to rush here from work because of you. I’m already getting side-eyes as a new hire—do I have to come back tomorrow?”