“Are you Yeon Yiseo?”
“…….”
Yeon Yiseo missed the chance to respond.
Not without reason—because the fact that Seo Eunwoo was standing in front of him made absolutely no sense.
Yeon Yiseo strained his mind trying to come up with a reason why that man would be standing there right now. But no plausible explanation came to mind.
The reason was simple: the two of them didn’t know each other.
Yeon Yiseo carefully studied Seo Eunwoo’s expression. With a bright, cheerful smile on his face, he didn’t seem to hold any ill will toward Yeon Yiseo. Which, of course, made sense—after all, the two of them had never crossed paths. At least, not until this moment.
“Don’t Look for the Sickly Villain.”
The moment those words—words he never imagined he’d hear from Seo Eunwoo’s mouth—were spoken, Yeon Yiseo instinctively held his breath. Honestly, he deserved an award for not jumping out of his skin.
He blinked rapidly. Cold sweat trickled down his back.
“Huh? What’s that?”
But he couldn’t admit he recognized it that easily.
“Hmm. I knew it. You’re surprised right now, aren’t you?”
Seo Eunwoo took half a step closer, flashing a mischievous grin.
“You already know, don’t you? That this world is a game called Don’t Look for the Sickly Villain.”
Even if Yeon Yiseo tried to deny reality, Seo Eunwoo showed no mercy—he went straight for the kill. There was no dodging this one. That statement left no room for escape. Yeon Yiseo was at a complete loss as to how to react. Who on earth could’ve imagined something like this would ever happen?
While his mind churned in chaos, unable to form a single coherent thought, Seo Eunwoo continued.
“It’s okay. I just came because I wanted to be friends.”
“…….”
“Don’t be so on guard. I’m telling the truth.”
Seeing how Yeon Yiseo didn’t respond immediately and instead carefully assessed the situation, Seo Eunwoo raised both hands slightly, like a harmless gesture. Then, the gentle smile on his face suddenly shifted—turning sly, almost provocative.
“Because you’re an Engaged Player too, aren’t you?”
Engaged Player.
A term for someone who realizes this world is a game—and that they’re one of the characters in it.
As Seo Eunwoo added that explanation, Yeon Yiseo’s eyes flew wide open, nearly tearing at the corners.
More than that, he’d just said “you too.” Which meant—
“Ding-dong! Correct. I’m an Engaged Player too.”
Yeon Yiseo froze in stunned silence as Seo Eunwoo’s cheerful voice rang in his ears.
***
Yeon Yiseo regained memories of his past life—not wrapped in pretty paper like a birthday present—but on the day he turned nine.
Strictly speaking, “regained” wasn’t exactly the right word. It would be more accurate to say that he realized the truth: that in his past life, he’d been a programmer on the development team for a mobile game—and in this life, he now existed inside that very game.
In his previous life, his name had been Ahn Hee-woong.
“Previous life” was the best way to describe it—because Ahn Hee-woong was already dead.
After feeling a sense of pride as the game he helped create began gaining traction, he was hit and killed by a drunk driver in a hit-and-run at a crosswalk while walking home late at night. He was only 29 years old.
Regaining those memories felt like watching his entire life flash before his eyes at twenty times the speed. It made him nauseous, his head pounding like it was going to split open. He even gagged.
Still, Yeon Yiseo didn’t feel as though he’d been taken over by Ahn Hee-woong’s values or personality. It was more like he’d become a neutral observer reading someone else’s life story. A very long story, admittedly.
But that was a relief. If the memories and worldview of 29-year-old Ahn Hee-woong had clashed with the barely nine-year-old Yeon Yiseo’s, Ahn Hee-woong would’ve easily overwhelmed him. He might’ve ended up living as Ahn Hee-woong from that point forward—but thankfully, that didn’t happen.
The memory that stuck out the most was the game he’d worked on.
It was a paid, 19+ BL mobile game titled Don’t Look for the Sickly Villain, or SickVill for short.
Despite being a BL game limited to adult players in Korea, SickVill gained explosive popularity among women thanks to its provocative expressions and intensely explicit content. It became a massive hit not only in Korea but also across Asia, eventually spawning expanded storylines and character additions. Each update was a major success, and the game quickly rose to become a powerful IP with incredible potential.
To understand the game’s premise, you had to first know about the “original” story that the game was based on: an in-game novel called My Beloved Beta.
The game begins when the player reincarnates as the antagonist Seo Eunwoo, a character from My Beloved Beta.
Seo Eunwoo’s fiancé, Ethan, is the main character of the novel—a lively and steadfast man who remains strong in the face of adversity. Over time, Ethan begins developing feelings for his secretary.
When Seo Eunwoo learns about Ethan’s growing affection for someone else, it devastates him. Seo Eunwoo had always been physically frail since childhood, and to him, Ethan was his entire world.
But when Ethan falls in love with another person—the novel’s protagonist—and eventually demands a breakup, Seo Eunwoo snaps.
He spirals into a series of increasingly destructive acts, ultimately forcing an imprint removal which leaves him half-paralyzed and mute. From that point on, he remains confined like a lifeless doll, seated in a corner of the house.
And the one Ethan fell in love with—the protagonist of My Beloved Beta—was none other than Yeon Yiseo.
SickVill begins when Seo Eunwoo, now aware of everything that had happened in the original story, tries to twist the plot to avoid the worst possible outcome.
The first thing he does is break off the engagement that was arranged by his family when he was young.
However, things go sideways when Ethan—who originally pitied the sickly Seo Eunwoo—begins to obsess over him instead.
As a BL dating simulation, SickVill featured not only Ethan as the main love interest, but also a cast of diverse, high-profile suitors: a famous Hollywood actor, a Middle Eastern oil tycoon descended from royalty, a K-pop solo artist who topped the Billboard charts, and later, a Black British aristocrat.
Although the number of love interests (five total) was on the low side compared to similar games, the writing quality made up for it. Plus, new characters were slowly added over time through updates, so the lack of quantity didn’t matter as much.
“……Ugh.”
Yeon Yiseo groaned and clutched his head. The sheer volume of information pouring in was like a hammer pounding at his skull, causing a brutal headache to bloom.
Eventually, he couldn’t even blow out the candles on his birthday cake. Instead, he retreated to his room, curled up with his knees to his chest.
“I’m… the protagonist of the in-game novel in SickVill…?”
He muttered the words under his breath, cradling his head in his hands.
“No way… No fucking way.”
The confusion wouldn’t let go. He kept murmuring to himself, as if trying to convince himself this wasn’t real. And honestly, it wasn’t something that made any sense.
Unless… had he finally gone insane?
His vision swirled, spinning wildly, and Yeon Yiseo reflexively squeezed his eyes shut.
“Yiseo, how are you feeling? Come have some cake—Yiseo?!”
Rosa, his foster guardian, entered with a plate of cake and let out a startled scream.
The plate slipped from her hands and shattered on the floor with a sharp crash.
That’s how Yeon Yiseo ended up passed out on the floor, discovered unconscious in his room. He didn’t come to until he was lying in his narrow bed.
When he finally woke up, the first thing he did was try to piece together everything he could remember about SickVill.
If he really was the in-game version of Yeon Yiseo, how was he supposed to navigate what was coming?
A flood of upcoming events from the game came rushing into his mind, like an entire lake pouring into his skull.
It was far too much for a child Yeon Yiseo to bear.
Just knowing in advance what would eventually happen to him blurred the line between imagination and reality.
Rosa, worried about him, gently suggested they try counseling.
Though Yeon Yiseo spent months in confusion, he eventually decided to accept it.
While the memories were still fresh, he began writing down everything he could remember into a notebook.
Some things grew hazier as he recorded them, while others became sharper.
At one point, he did wonder: Why is the protagonist—himself—a Korean kid living in the U.S., where Koreans are a minority?
But the answer turned out to be surprisingly simple: the game had been made in Korea.
That was it.
That was why he was living in America now.
Once he started connecting those dots, life started to feel a little hollow. So he decided not to overthink the “why” of it all.
This world—this life—was his reality now.
And instead of seeing it as a curse, he chose to see the positives.
He already knew what was going to happen. That was a massive advantage.
If he worked hard, he could eventually become the secretary to a high-profile CEO at one of America’s most powerful corporations. From there, he’d gain access to enormous personal connections.
There weren’t many other viable paths open to him, and it seemed foolish to waste the advantage of knowing the future.
Living in a foster home in the U.S., Yeon Yiseo leaned on the future he’d seen in the original game and used it to survive those years—to get through growing up.
