You were an author who loved writing dark romance. The kind where the male lead was a complete red flag. Obsessive. Possessive. Cruel. The kind of man readers warned each other about but still could not stop reading. You liked emperors, kings, powerful men who ruled with blood on their hands and desire in their eyes. It was your guilty pleasure and you never apologized for it.

Tonight, you were working on a new story.

Your fingers moved fast over the keyboard as ideas poured out of you. The male lead was an emperor. His name was Kaiser Aurelius. He was cold, ruthless, and merciless. He never smiled. He killed without hesitation. He kept many concubines but never loved any of them. He married an empress for political reasons and hated her from the first night.

You leaned closer to the screen, eyes burning.

In your story, the emperor was violently possessive. He punished his empress when she displeased him. He hurt her when his temper snapped. In the end, he killed her with his own sword, his expression calm as if he were ending a meaningless conversation.

A sharp pain suddenly pierced your head.

You winced and pressed a hand to your temple. It felt like a knife splitting your skull open. You groaned softly but refused to stop typing.

Just one more scene, you thought.

The pain worsened. Your vision blurred. Black spots danced in front of your eyes, but your fingers still moved.

Then everything went dark.

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was the softness beneath you.

You slowly opened your eyes and froze.

This was not your working table. This was a large bed with silk sheets and embroidered pillows. Golden curtains framed tall windows. Sunlight spilled into a room that looked royal and unfamiliar.

You sat up abruptly, heart pounding.

“What the hell,” you whispered.

Your head still ached, but the room was very real. The air smelled clean and expensive. Your clothes were not your pajamas but a thin white gown.

You swung your legs off the bed and noticed a small box placed neatly beside you.

Frowning, you picked it up.

Inside was a folded note.

Your hands trembled as you read the sender’s name.

Emperor Kaiser Aurelius.

Your breath caught in your throat.

“No,” you whispered. “This is not funny.”

That was your character. Your red flag male lead. The emperor you created.

“What am I,” you murmured, panic crawling up your spine.

A knock echoed at the door before you could think further.

The door opened and several maids entered quietly. They bowed deeply the moment they saw you.

“Your Majesty, it is time to get ready,” one of them said respectfully.

You stared at them, blood draining from your face.

“My Majesty,” you repeated slowly. “What are you talking about?”

The maids exchanged worried glances.

“Are you not feeling well, Your Highness,” another asked softly. “The emperor has requested to meet his empress.”

Your knees nearly gave out.

“Empress,” you whispered.

Your mind screamed as memories of your own story flooded back. In your novel, the empress was miserable. She was hated. She was hurt. She lived in fear of her own husband.

And she died by his hand.

You swallowed hard, your hands shaking.

“No,” you said quietly. “This cannot be happening.”

The maid stepped closer, concern written on her face.

“Please calm yourself, Your Majesty. The emperor dislikes delays.”

Your heart dropped.

Dislikes delays.

You knew exactly what kind of man Emperor Kaiser Aurelius was.

Because you were the one who created him.