A New Life As A Extra Villain [BL]

Chapter 3: A Stranger in the Mirror

Yejun’s eyes fluttered open again, his chest heaving as he clutched the unfamiliar sheets. His heart raced like he’d just been yanked from the jaws of death, and his ears rang faintly, muffling the silence around him. What just happened? The memories came rushing back—screeching metal, panicked voices, and crushing darkness. He remembered the impact, the cold creeping in as the world faded to black.

The first thing he noticed now was the ceiling. It wasn’t the car’s roof, and it wasn’t the gray interior of a hospital, either. Ornate patterns of gold and cream swirled above him, lit faintly by the warm glow of a grand chandelier. His chest tightened as he stared at the intricate designs. Where am I? The entire space felt like something out of an old movie-grand, but cold.

He raised trembling hands, turning them over, his gaze fixed on the unmarked skin. He flexed his fingers, half-expecting them to ache or crack under pressure. But there was nothing—no bruises, no cuts, no broken bones. This isn’t right. I should be… dead.

His breathing quickened as he pushed himself upright, the thick covers pooling around his waist. He scanned his body, pulling at the fabric of the soft, luxurious nightgown covering him. It wasn’t his hoodie, wasn’t his jeans. His arms, legs, and torso were unscathed. Perfect, even. But it wasn’t relief that filled him—just unease.

The crash was real. I heard Jiyeon scream. I felt the cold, the pain. It was real. He swallowed hard, his throat dry and aching. So why am I here?

Forcing himself to move, Yejun swung his legs over the side of the bed. His feet touched the polished floor, cool and solid beneath him, grounding him for the moment. He glanced around the room, his gaze sweeping over the massive furniture carved from dark wood with golden accents. The walls bore intricate floral patterns, framed by thick, velvet curtains draped over towering windows. A chandelier above him sparkled faintly in the dim light.

This isn’t a hospital, he thought. It feels like I’ve been dropped into a historical drama. But why?

His eyes landed on a large mirror across the room. Something about it pulled him in, a gnawing sense of dread tightening his chest. Slowly, hesitantly, he stood and walked toward it, his legs wobbling as if they belonged to someone else. Each step felt heavier than the last, his heart pounding in his ears. When he reached the mirror, the breath caught in his throat.

It wasn’t his face staring back at him.

Sharp features. Dark hair that framed unnaturally pale skin. Eyes that seemed cold, almost lifeless, stared back at him with the same shocked expression. Yejun raised a trembling hand to his cheek, and the reflection mimicked him. His chest heaved, panic rising like a tide that threatened to drown him.

No. No, no, no. That’s not me. This can’t be me.

He stumbled back, his hands gripping the edge of the desk behind him for support. The reflection loomed in the mirror, unfamiliar and unrelenting, like a stranger mocking him. His thoughts raced, crashing into one another as his breathing turned shallow. The absurdity of the situation reminded him of the isekai novels his sister obsessed over—stories of people waking up in strange worlds, trapped in unfamiliar bodies. He’d always teased her, rolling his eyes at the ridiculous plots.

But this… this wasn’t a story. This was real.

He buried his face in his hands, trying to steady his breaths. His mind spun, grasping for an explanation. "Alright," he muttered after a long, shaky exhale. "Calm down. Just… figure it out. Freaking out isn’t gonna help."

Forcing his thoughts into some semblance of order, he began pacing the room, taking in every detail. The weight of the furniture, the cold elegance of the chandelier, the way the floral wallpaper seemed to close in on him—it all screamed power, wealth, and control. But there was something hollow about it. Something that made his skin crawl.