1

Dorothy’s eyes fluttered open in a daze, her vision instantly colliding with a stern face. Sharp eyebrows, piercing eyes, a high-bridged nose, and lips pressed into a tight line. He wore what looked like a military uniform from the ‘70s or ‘80s, his expression cold and laced with suppressed anger.

Struggling to sit up, Dorothy’s voice was hoarse. “Who are you? Let me go!”

The man in uniform loomed over her, his gaze chilling.

“Dorothy! What madness have you concocted this time?” His deep voice carried an unmistakable edge of fury.

She flinched, momentarily stunned. Just a second ago, she had bumped her nose against his rib, sending stars bursting in her vision. Now, hearing him say her name so familiarly, she grew even more bewildered.

Did this man… know her?

“Nicholas, let’s deal with that later. Get her to the medical room first—she hurt her leg just now.”

The voice belonged to a bald man standing beside the uniformed figure, his tone more relaxed.

Dorothy forced herself to take in her surroundings. A high wall towered in the distance, and beyond it, a large cage-like structure. A red sign hung prominently: "Revolutionary Army, the Loyal Guards of the People." Inside the enclosure stood rows of cylindrical buildings, soldiers in green uniforms patrolling in precise formations. Further back, military-green trucks were parked in neat rows.

Her breath caught as she looked down at herself. Gone was the tailored suit she had meticulously chosen for the seminar. In its place was a yellow dress, worn and patched at the hem—something she would never have owned. Even her hands looked different, softer, lacking the calluses from years of handling surgical tools.

Panic clawed at her chest.

Nicholas.

She swallowed hard, her voice unsteady. “Is… is your last name Parker?”

The man let out a mirthless laugh. “What, playing the amnesia card this time?”

His lack of denial was answer enough.

Dorothy’s world tilted.

The high walls. The old-fashioned uniforms. The cage. The name Nicholas Parker.

A body that wasn’t hers.

No. No, no, no.

Memories flooded in like a dam breaking. Before the plane crash, she had been reading a book—Endearing Love. And now… everything around her matched that book’s setting.

She had transmigrated.

Her stomach dropped as she recalled the novel’s plot.

Nicholas Parker, the book’s male lead, was a second-generation military and political elite. Righteous. Stable. Loyal. A perfect gentleman. But his life had one stain—his ex-wife.

Dorothy.

A shudder ran through her.

The Dorothy in the book was the most despised character, a spoiled and malicious woman who had blackmailed her family into marrying Nicholas just to avoid being sent to the countryside. She had thought herself set for life—until she discovered Nicholas had adopted his late friend’s son. A fresh high school graduate, suddenly a stepmother.

Nicholas, frequently away on duty, had treated her with nothing but indifference. Frustrated and resentful, Dorothy had taken her anger out on the boy, growing increasingly unstable.

Then, she made a fatal mistake.

Desperate to force Nicholas into retirement, she had conspired with foreign spies to sell military secrets. When the plan unraveled, she was arrested and executed for treason. Nicholas, dishonored and injured in the ensuing battle, lost his legs in an explosion. He spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair, haunted by nightmares of his ex-wife’s twisted smile—until the novel’s heroine, Agatha, healed his wounds with love.

Dorothy squeezed her eyes shut.

Please, let this be a dream. Let me wake up in my world, where I have a house, a car, and a career. Where I’m a renowned dentist, about to deliver a groundbreaking patent speech. Where I’m not some villain doomed to die.

But when she opened her eyes, she was still here.

Nicholas was still here.

And his gaze was still filled with loathing.

He crouched down, scanning her injuries. The moment his eyes landed on her exposed skin, he tensed.

In the book, Dorothy had traveled deep into the mountains to find Nicholas’s superior, intending to sabotage his work. But she had gotten lost, panicked at the sounds of wild animals, and in her blind fear, she had stumbled into the base’s electric fence.

And died.

Dorothy’s breath hitched. That’s how I ended up here.

The realization was jarring.

Her dress was tattered, the fabric ripped in places. The moment Nicholas noticed, he jerked back as if burned, disgust twisting his features.

Without warning, he grabbed his military coat and threw it at her. “Put this on.”

Dorothy blinked. Then, realizing just how much skin she was showing, she quickly covered herself. The coat was heavy and smelled faintly of soap—clean, but impersonal.

Nicholas watched her with barely concealed frustration. To him, this was just another one of her schemes. Another desperate ploy to force him home, to destroy him.

His patience had run out.

“Get up,” he ordered. “Follow me.”

Dorothy tried, but the moment she put pressure on her left leg, pain shot up her spine. She whimpered. “I can’t stand.”

The young soldier next to Nicholas sighed. “You’re gonna have to carry your wife.”

Nicholas’s jaw tightened. For a long moment, he didn’t move. Then, with an expression as if he had been handed a death sentence, he crouched in front of her. His back was broad and straight, as unyielding as a soldier standing at attention.

“Get on.”

Dorothy hesitated. “You’re serious?”

Nicholas’s voice was clipped. “Hmm.”

Not waiting for him to change his mind, she scrambled onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck. The warmth of his body was startling, his scent overwhelming—a mix of sweat, soap, and something distinctly masculine.

But she had bigger concerns.

“My surgical kit—it’s on the ground!” she pointed urgently.

Nicholas didn’t even glance back. “I know.”

Dorothy exhaled in relief, finally letting herself rest against him.

Nicholas, however, remained rigid. The feel of her breath against his neck, the warmth of her body pressed to his back—it unsettled him in ways he didn’t want to admit.

His muscles tensed, his jaw locked.

This woman…

No matter what she was planning this time, it wouldn’t work.