random thing, still exam.

Kevin stirred awake, blinking sluggishly at the morning light seeping through the curtains. He felt warm, cozy—until his hand instinctively reached out and met…

nothing.

Huh?

His fingers grazed the empty sheets beside him. The warmth was fading. Lee was gone.

My Lee my Lee my Lee...

His half-asleep brain struggled to process this tragedy. He let out a sleepy groan, rolling onto his stomach and burying his face into the pillow. The scent of her lingered there, faint but unmistakable.

Well, at least she hadn't actually disappeared.

With a lazy stretch, he turned his head, blinking blearily toward the bathroom. There—Lee, standing in front of the mirror.

Kevin squinted. She was just… staring at herself? Then—oh. That face. That frown.

A smirk pulled at his lips.

Ah. Lee's confused.

And confused Lee was adorable.

He watched as she pulled at her own cheeks, narrowed her eyes, pressed a finger to her temple like some detective cracking a case.

Kevin's smirk widened.

Seriously, how was she this cute?

She was deep in thought, too focused to notice him standing up and padding toward her.

Like a shadow, he slipped behind her, close enough to feel the faint chill clinging to her skin from the morning air. Close enough that if she turned even slightly, she'd bump into him.

His hand found her waist—not a full embrace, just a touch, light and deliberate.

A test.

Would she lean into him? Swat him away?

Lee paused mid-brush. Their gazes met in the mirror.

"Kevin."

"Eh, Lee?" He blinked, keeping his tone easy, playful.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. Warning.

"I'm not in the mood right now."

—Huh?

Wait.

What?

But but but—you said we could play in the morning…

Kevin felt like he'd just been given a treat, only to have it snatched away right before he could bite down.

What happened?!

Wasn't last night perfect? Hadn't they agreed—? Wasn't there supposed to be some quality morning time?!

His mind scrambled for answers, running a post-battle analysis.

Was it something he did? Something he didn't do? Did he not hug her enough last night? Did he steal the blanket? Did he snore?!

…No. No, that couldn't be it.

Her tone wasn't annoyed, just… firm.

Final.

Kevin, golden retriever instincts screaming in protest, forced himself to retreat.

He backed off immediately, the warmth of his presence disappearing as fast as it had come.

…Tail metaphorically down.

He sighed through his nose, watching as she resumed brushing her teeth like nothing happened.

...

Kevin sat at the dining table, elbows on the surface, chin resting in his hands. His mind was still stuck on the moment Lee shut him down.

("I'm not in the mood right now.")

The words echoed in his head, looping like a bad song.

He exhaled. Okay. Fine. If she wasn't in the mood now, he'd change the mood. He was Kevin Kaslana. He didn't take Ls.

So—breakfast.

Lee liked food. Good food. Five-star chef food. If he couldn't charm her awake, he'd charm her taste buds.

Kevin pushed himself up, stretching with a small grunt before making his way to the kitchen.

The pink apron hung off the kitchen hook, practically calling to him. Without hesitation, Kevin grabbed it and tied it on with warrior-like determination.

He took out his phone, swiped through some "Beginner Japanese Breakfast Recipes," and clicked on the first video.

Step one: Crack the eggs.

Kevin grabbed an egg. Stared at it.

Alright. You got this.

CRACK!

…Half the shell went into the bowl.

Kevin squinted. Stared at the shell pieces floating in the egg whites like tiny icebergs.

"...Okay, that one doesn't count."

Step one, attempt two: Crack another egg—gently.

This time, success. Kevin smirked. Master chef arc initiated.

He whisked the eggs with confidence, pouring them into the pan. The sizzle was satisfying, the color perfect. He let the mixture cook for a moment before attempting the first fold—

It ripped.

Kevin gritted his teeth. Okay. No big deal. Tamagoyaki had layers. He could just—fold it again!

The second fold was decent. The third? Better.

By the time he finished rolling it into a neat, golden rectangle, he stood back and admired his work.

"...Hell yeah."

...

Kevin seasoned the salmon with precision (read: a slightly nervous sprinkle of salt). Then, he placed it in the pan, skin-side down, and watched intensely.

The key was timing. He knew that from watching Lee cook before.

He resisted the urge to poke at it. Patience.

A few minutes later, he flipped the fish, holding his breath—

Perfect golden-brown.

Kevin grinned. His confidence was at maximum level.

Pouring hot dashi broth over miso paste seemed easy enough. He stirred carefully, adding tofu and seaweed.

A taste test—

…Okay, it was a little bland.

Kevin frowned. Did he go too safe?

He hesitated before adding a tiny bit more miso. Another stir. Another sip.

Hmm…

Better.

It wasn't restaurant-level, but it was warm, comforting. It would do.

...

Kevin carefully plated the food, making sure it looked as fancy as possible.

Rice? Fluffed to perfection.

Tamagoyaki? Neatly sliced.

Salmon? Crisp and golden.

Miso soup? Steaming beautifully.

He stepped back.

"...Damn, I'm good."

Then, he heard soft footsteps.

Kevin turned—

And stopped breathing.

Lee descended the stairs, her silver-white hair neatly braided over one shoulder. The smooth, precise weave framed her sharp features, a few loose strands softening the look.

Morning light from the window caught in her hair, making it shimmer like something straight out of a fantasy anime.

Kevin's brain short-circuited.

Who... this beauty? Oh my wife.

His eyes trailed down—oversized pajama top, cute little shorts—

Abort. Abort.

His survival instincts slapped him across the face.

Kevin quickly turned away, clearing his throat. Act normal. Act normal.

Instead, what came out of his mouth was:

"Morning, wifey."

…ah.

Lee stopped mid-step.

A slow blink.

Then a look that screamed: I'm deciding whether or not to kill you right now (his imagination).

Kevin, ever the survivor, immediately switched tactics.

He spun around, dramatically gesturing to the table.

"Ta-da! Breakfast!"

Lee exhaled, shaking her head, but—he caught it.

That tiny amused flicker in her eyes.

Victory.

Kevin watched as Lee stopped at the table, her gaze flicking from the food to him.

Light work, No reaction.

She just stared.

Kevin, completely invested in her opinion, pulled out a chair for her with exaggerated enthusiasm.

"Please, my dear esteemed food critic, have a seat."

Lee just raised an eyebrow before sitting down.

Kevin, still wagging his metaphorical tail, immediately slid into the seat beside her.

The moment of truth.

Lee picked up her chopsticks, lightly tapping them against the plate before taking a piece of tamagoyaki.

Kevin leaned in slightly. Too slightly.

Lee side-eyed him but didn't say anything.

First bite—tamagoyaki.

Her expression stayed neutral.

...

Lee's POV (my problem, next time not in first person)

The first thing I do is chew. Slowly.

Huh.

I was ready for an existential crisis. You know, the kind where I take a bite, taste something so horrific that my soul leaves my body, and I have to reconsider all my life choices leading up to this moment.

The kind where I go, Oh no, the Kaslana curse is real, and I have to fake enjoying this if I want to live.

But…

This is fine.

Actually, it's good.

...Huh.

I glance at Kevin, who's still sitting there, practically vibrating with anticipation like a golden retriever waiting for a treat. His stupidly pretty blue eyes are locked onto me, wide and hopeful, if he have tail then that tail wagging at full speed right now.

This guy.

I take another bite, still chewing as my brain sorts through this revelation.

So, the legendary Kaslana kitchen curse isn't real, huh? All this time, we thought their family was genetically incapable of cooking anything that didn't cause structural damage. Turns out, we were wrong.

Because Kevin Kaslana—this Kaslana—can cook.

Which means…

It was MEI.

The curse was MEI.

Pfft.

Hah.

HAHAHAHAHAHA.

I want to laugh. Right here. Right now.

But I don't. Because Kevin's still watching me like a puppy waiting for approval, and I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me that entertained. Instead, I just huff through my nose and take a sip of miso soup.

It's warm. Comforting. Almost… homely.

And that's when the thought really sinks in.

I'm here. Here.

Not in some wreck time bomb earth, Not dodging some Lesbian and group of lunatics. Not constantly calculating the best way to manipulate someone into doing what I need for peaceful life.

Here. In a cozy house, in a peaceful city, eating homemade breakfast cooked by a man who looks at me like I'm his entire world.

…Man, what a scam.

I set my chopsticks down, leaning back slightly in my chair, gaze flicking around the kitchen. It's neat. Simple. Lived-in. There's a pink apron hanging on the wall—Kevin's, obviously.

The dishes are stacked haphazardly, like someone tried to be organized but got distracted halfway through. The light filtering through the windows makes the room feel soft. Safe.

Safe.

Hah.

But this?

This is exactly what I wanted, isn't it? A peaceful, low-effort life.

And Kevin…

I glance at him again.

No ridiculous ideals about "saving humanity." Just a big, dumb, devoted golden retriever of a man who wakes up early to make breakfast and gets heartbroken if I don't let him cuddle me in the morning.

A man with the strength to crush mountains but the personality of an overgrown puppy.

Yeah.

Yeah, I can work with this.

Boss wife arc initiated!!

Huh?

What, you expected me to resist? Run away dramatically, saying "I am not your wife!" or "I've lost my memories, who are you?!"

Bleh.

I've seen this trope before. They always fall in love anyway.

Do I look like an idiot?

…Don't answer that.

But let's be real. Man becomes woman, woman wakes up in another man's bed, woman becomes another man's wife.

That sounds—

Gay.

I mean. It is.

But who cares?

Look:

> Marry a man then you gay spiritually.

> Marry a woman, then you gay physically.

See? Lose-Lose!

Soo...

Li Bei as Lee—have already lived three lifetimes as a woman. At this point, what's one more?

Yea, but atleast no that "thing" first

I pick up another piece of tamagoyaki, popping it into my mouth.

I don't care if this is another timeline, an illusion, or some freak accident in the cosmic balance. My main body and the other Units can go deal with whatever disasters are happening in the blue earth.

That's their problem.

Alright. That's settled. I'm me now.

But let's address the real issue here—the other me.

Because obviously, when you wake up in a different body, there are only so many explanations for what happened. A classic case of "Whose Soul Is It Anyway?"

The possibilities:

1. The original Lee soul died, leaving me with an empty vessel.

2. I hijacked her body while she was still in there, but she got shuffled into the backseat.

3. She got ejected into units-3

4. She got devoured by my consciousness.

5. Plot twist: I was always her past self, and this is some convoluted reincarnation reveal. (Please no.)

Either way, the fact remains—I have this body now.

And as a former Herrscher, even in a normal human shell, my spirit is tough. So when I was in the bathroom earlier, clearing my mind, I noticed something... odd.

Fragments. Bits of memories that weren't mine, yet felt vaguely familiar. And deep in my mental space? A clump of consciousness mass. Dormant. Quiet. Like a system process running in the background, waiting for a reboot.

That's her.

The original Lee.

And she's still in here.

Now, a rational person might think, Oh no! I must find a way to return the original soul! I have to give this body back!

Hah. No.

I've read enough transmigration manhwa to know how that ends. You try to be nice, and what do you get? The original soul wakes up, goes "Who are you?! Get out of my body!" and next thing you know, you're either erased, exorcised, or stuck in a mirror as the evil twin.

Nuh-uh. Not me.

But! I also don't want the whole "You're not really her!" drama.

What the solutions?

Absorb her. Gain her memories, her emotions, her entire life. Ultimate assimilation.

thats evil, so go to plan B.

See, hear me out.

What if... I don't do anything that?

What if I just let her wake up naturally?

If she wakes up? Cool. We negotiate. I become the mysterious second personality living rent-free in her head.

Best-case scenario? We go full Skizo Lee.

Think about it: two minds, one body.

The perfect tag-team marriage strategy.

If she regains control, she'll think she's the real Lee (which she is), and I'll get to take the backseat. Conveniently avoiding all the troublesome parts of this situation—like explaining things, dealing with emotional fallout, and most importantly...

"Night wife duties."

See? Genius.

What if Kevin find out?

Just tell Kevin that his wife have second personality that aseksual, if he gentleman enough this will fine.

With that I get the peaceful life I wanted. A life where I don't have to constantly fend off lunatics, or live in time bomb earth.

Perfect plan. Foolproof plan. Master plan.

So, with that decided—

Peaceful life, I co—

Huh?!

Huhhh…!

A sharp pain slices through my skull, like someone just jammed a hot needle into my brainstem.

My chopsticks nearly slip from my fingers.

For a split second, my vision whites out.

And then—

Memories.

Not mine.

Hers.

The other me. The one who lives here. The one who wakes up in this bed, eats in this kitchen, and—

…Oh.

Oh no.

The images hit all at once. Like a dam breaking. Like someone dumped an entire archive of rated 18+ fanfiction directly into my brain.

Kevin. Me.

Us.

Naked.

Oh. OH.

My entire body locks up.

This isn't just normal, romantic couple stuff. No, no, no. This is something else.

This is advanced-level, Olympic-tier, full-contact warfare.

The other me—she and Kevin? They're freaks.

Not just freaks. Masters.

Like Zhuge Liang vs. Sima Yi on the battlefield, they are battling in the bedfield.

They have games. Strategies. Techniques.

There's a notebook.

A goddamn notebook.

For "new ideas."

Flashes of images burn through my mind—me (her?) pinned against the wall, Kevin whispering absolute filth in my ear, hands everywhere—

Oh. OH.

There's rope.

Handcuffs.

That thing with the ice.

I almost drop my bowl.

A sound cuts through the haze—deep, low, concerned.

"Lee?"

I barely process it. The pain still throbs in my skull, the flood of memories drowning out everything else. I'm distantly aware of movement—Kevin shifting, his chair scraping against the floor.

Another voice, closer this time. "Hey—what's wrong?"

I should respond. I should say something.

But then—

More images.

Kevin picking me up like I weigh nothing. His back muscles shifting as he moves. The absolute ridiculous proportions of his—

NOPE.

NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE—

FULL STOP.

I slam the mental brakes so hard I nearly give myself whiplash.

Air. I need air.

My breath comes shallow, my face burns, my brain refuses to function.

Danger. Danger.

I move on instinct.

Slowly, subtly—without making a sound—

I side-eye Kevin.

"Lee? Talk to me—"

I stare at him.

I stare at the huge, xxxxxx, absurdly xxxxxx man who, according to my newly acquired knowledge, could probably make a nun renounce her vows in under five minutes.

Then—

Still silent—

I move my chair away.

Just a few inches. Nothing obvious. Just enough to put a little distance between us.

Kevin blinks. "Huh?"

I clear my throat, force my voice to stay even. "You're sleeping on the sofa tonight."

He stares.

"…Eh?"

I don't elaborate.

I don't dare.

Because if I think one second longer about what I just remembered—

…I might actually have to retire from life.

------

Mental Space

The mind is a strange place.

For most people, it's a quiet, endless void. Maybe a dreamscape. Maybe just static.

For Lee, it's a little more… crowded.

Darkness stretches in every direction, soft and shifting like deep water. In the center, consciousness clumps drift—fragments of memory, thought, and emotion, pulsing faintly like distant stars.

And nestled among them, unseen, she waits.

She's been watching for long time.

She bites her lip, barely smothering a giggle.

"Hehe…"

A smile spreads, unseen, unhurried.

"New toy~"

----

the plot kinda skecy, I know.

That that I can get from analyzing Lee characters, look she if we make her do *that* with Kevin so she can go home then she just do that.

I make this side story to punish her, so I need walkaround for this problem, the draft still can better but whatever, the italic format for inner thoughts in mobile is hard to use so most of it plain text.

You can suggest alternative or improvements. Sorry don't have time to edit some of error tomorrow is math