On a stormy evening, with clouds swirling and thunder crashing across the sky, Alice, a final-year student at a prestigious university in England, was lying on her bed, sipping bubble tea and casually reading a BL novel her junior had recommended. At first, she found the story a cliché, a shallow little tale for naive readers, not suitable for someone with a logical mind like hers. Yet, to please her junior, she continued to the end. As she read the conclusion, her heart ached for Rachiel Windson, the neglected bottom, while she felt relief for Raphael Sabel- Rosalyn Sabel's younger brother-the main bottom, finally free from his family’s cruel scrutiny and societal prejudice. Only Edrick William, the prince, made her shiver with fear, his brutality evident as he annihilated the Sabel family, sparing only the one he loved. Did this prince have any sense at all? she wondered. Suddenly, a blinding bolt of lightning tore through the sky like the roar of a demon, and the window beside her flew open, sucking her in—not out, but into another world. She blacked out, and when she came to, she found herself staring into the gentle, concerned eyes of Rachiel Windson as he tended to her wounds. Panic surged through her as she caught her reflection in the nearby window—Rosalyn Sabel!? she thought, realizing she had somehow become the formidable, alluring, and dangerous first daughter of the Sabel dukedom, a woman whose fate in this world was far from safe.

Alice’s hands trembled as Rachiel gently applied healing salve to the cuts along her arms, his touch firm yet soothing. Every motion he made—tugging the bandages, smoothing the ointment—spoke of a quiet strength that both comforted and unsettled her. She wanted to speak, to explain that she wasn’t really Rosalyn, but the words stuck in her throat, choked by the shock of the body she now inhabited.

Rachiel’s eyes, warm and steady, met hers. “You’re badly hurt,” he said softly, his voice carrying a calm authority she instinctively wanted to trust. “Rest. Let me take care of you.”

Alice swallowed hard, noting how his large, strong hands moved with care, how his presence seemed to form a shield around her. She realized with a pang that in this world, unlike her own, she was utterly vulnerable—and yet, for the first time since arriving, she felt… safe.

She glanced down at her reflection again, Rosalyn’s sharp cheekbones, commanding posture, and striking eyes staring back at her, and shivered. I’m supposed to be the fearsome first daughter, the one everyone obeys—or dies trying—but right now, I’m just… hurt and helpless.

And yet, Rachiel stayed by her side, quietly tending to her, oblivious to the social hierarchies and deadly politics swirling around them. For the first time, Alice understood the depth of the bottom she had pitied in her book—here, in person, he wasn’t weak; he was quietly heroic, a kind of anchor in a storm she had no idea how to navigate.

Her heart thudded uncomfortably as she realized that saving herself might now mean leaning on him, trusting him, maybe even caring for him—something she had never planned. And deep down, a small, forbidden part of her wondered if this strange, perilous new world might not just be about survival, but about discovering feelings she had never known in her quiet, ordinary life.

He looks at her, still smiling gently "I didn't know the duchess Rosalyn felt not very well today, did you work late yesterday?" His calm manner melted her....clearly