For five years, I dedicated myself to saving Alberto Morris, trying to rewrite the tragic ending where he dies for the story’s heroine. But when she was in danger again, he didn’t hesitate for a second to throw his life away for her. He stopped fighting, letting his enemies plunge their knives into him, again and again, all to protect her. When I rushed to the scene, I found Alberto kneeling in a pool of his own blood, his trembling hands wiping away the heroine’s tears. He gently soothed the terrified Amelia. “Don’t cry, Mia. It’s okay. I don’t feel a thing.” Looking at this picture of devoted love, who would have guessed that just yesterday, this same man was whining to me about a tiny scratch on his hand? “Babe, it hurts.” Back then, I was naive enough to believe I was special to him. Now, I finally understand. The devoted male side character belongs to the heroine. And dying tragically to save her is the ending he would willingly choose. Five years. This time, I’m truly done. 1 The warehouse was a wreck. The man across from them sneered. “Three more cuts. Do it yourself, and we’ll let her go.” Alberto looked down at Amelia, who was shivering in his arms. His throat bobbed. “Fine,” he rasped. I stood behind them, my nails digging into my palms, unable to move a single step. I watched as Alberto picked up a blood-stained knife from the floor. He gently covered Amelia’s eyes. “Mia, close your eyes. Don’t look.” He raised the knife, his movements fluid and without a trace of hesitation. Seeing this, my heart felt like it was being squeezed by an iron fist. Just as the blade was about to fall, I forced myself to speak. “Wait.” Every eye in the room turned to me. Alberto looked over his shoulder. His pupils contracted when he saw me. His lips parted as if to say something, but all that came out was a violent cough. I deliberately ignored his gaze, walked past him, and handed the briefcase in my hand to the kidnapper. “The money’s here. I’m taking them with me.” The leader of the group grinned, taking the case. He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. “We’ll take the money. But a pretty thing like you… why don’t you stay and play with us for a while?” As his hand reached for me, I instinctively took a step back. I bumped into a tall metal pole behind me. It teetered for a second before crashing down with a deafening clang. The pole landed right between Amelia and me. Alberto reacted on pure instinct, shielding Amelia with his entire body, his back to the falling pole. “Mia, look out!” It slammed onto the concrete an inch from my feet, the impact kicking up a cloud of dust that settled on the hem of my dress. My heart stopped. Watching them clinging to each other, a loud ringing filled my ears, and the world went silent. “Hands up!” A swarm of people rushed in. My backup had finally arrived, subduing the kidnappers. Only then did I manage to regain what little composure I had left. I took a deep breath, slowly righted the fallen pole, and walked toward the two still locked in a desperate embrace. Amelia looked up from Alberto’s arms, her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you for saving me and Alberto, sister.” I didn’t answer her. I just stared at Alberto. He immediately let go of Amelia, his eyes wide with a flicker of panic as he looked at me. “I…” He opened his mouth, but no words came out. “The ambulance is here,” I said flatly, cutting him off. He refused to get into the ambulance until Amelia’s private driver arrived to take her home. Inside the vehicle, he carefully tugged at the corner of my shirt, his voice impossibly soft. “Babe, my arm really hurts…” The moment Amelia was gone, he was back to being the Alberto who knew how to play on my sympathy. Before, my heart would have ached for him. Now, I found it almost funny. Hurts? That’s not what he told Amelia just a few minutes ago. I looked at the red stain his bloody hand had left on my clothes. After a long silence, I pried his fingers off my sleeve. “It’s dirty,” I said softly. He froze. When he spoke again, his voice was laced with confusion. “Babe, I lost a lot of blood today…” “Yes,” I replied calmly. “I saw.” His breath hitched. He stared at me for a long moment, and when he saw that I remained unmoved, he finally turned his head away and fell silent. He was sulking, expecting me to coddle him. But this time, I didn’t. I saw things more clearly than ever. This was a man who had been the young heiress’s personal bodyguard since he was eight years old. A man whose body was a roadmap of scars from knives and bullets. How could he possibly be fragile? And yet, he had shown me his vulnerability time and time again, making me believe that I was different, that I was special to him. But now… I lowered my eyes, hiding the emotions swirling within them. I felt a dampness on my fingertips. Looking down, I saw that the gash I’d gotten from the falling pole was bleeding. And Alberto hadn’t even noticed. 2 We didn’t speak for the rest of the ride. I stared out the window, the passing city lights blurring into a meaningless smear. My mind drifted back five years, to the day I first met him. He had been covered in blood then, too, kneeling ramrod straight outside the gates of Amelia’s family estate, taking the blame for her mistake. Rain mixed with the blood running down his body, staining the pavement a dark crimson. I had knelt in front of him, holding an umbrella over his head. “Do you need help?” I had asked. He had lifted his dark, bottomless eyes, studying me for a long moment before raising an eyebrow. “And if I do? You’ll save me?” I had nodded. From that day on, I used the points I had accumulated over the years to piece his broken body back together. His tendons were torn, his back and abdomen a mangled mess from the beating he had taken. The healing process was excruciating. But he never made a sound. He would just stare at me with those dark, guarded eyes, his body tense with suspicion. Until the very last treatment. He had suddenly reached out and grabbed my sleeve, forcing out a single, clumsy word: “Hurts.” That was the first time he had ever shown me his weakness. After that, he grew more and more dependent on me. He would reach for me in his sleep when nightmares plagued him. He would rest his head on my shoulder when the pain from his old wounds flared up. He would cling to my hand during thunderstorms. It was then that I confidently accepted the mission from the System. Save the devoted male side character. Change his tragic fate. I naively believed I could be the light that saved him. But gradually, I came to understand. In the world of a devoted side character, the heroine is always the exception. Even though he only ever showed his vulnerability to me, even though he spent months planning our wedding, even though he whispered “I love you” in my ear countless times. The moment Amelia needed him, he would drop everything and run to her side. He would protect her with a self-destructive recklessness that tore open all the wounds I had so carefully healed. The first time was the day after our wedding. He took a call and left in a hurry. When he came back, he had seven new bullet holes in him. The wounds were too compromising to take him to a hospital. I had to treat him myself, at home. Covered in his own blood, his eyes shimmering with tears from the pain, he looked utterly pathetic. He clung to my sleeve, his feverish eyes hazy as he called out my name over and over again. “Babe… babe…” I should have been furious. But with every weak call of my name, my heart softened. The second time was on my birthday. He abandoned me in front of all our friends, diving off a yacht to save Amelia, who had “accidentally” fallen overboard. I stood on the deck that day and watched a real-life reenactment of Titanic. When I found him, he was half-frozen, but he was still clutching our wedding ring so tightly that his palm was bleeding. And in that moment, my resolve wavered again. It had been like this for years, one time after another. The heroine truly was the heroine, always surrounded by danger, always in need of a protector. I told myself over and over again that it was a matter of life and death, that of course he would choose to save her. I just hadn’t been in that kind of danger. The moment I was, he would surely choose me. Until today. When that pole came crashing down, he didn’t hesitate for a second. He chose her. And I finally saw the truth. His choice would never be me. 3 Alberto’s injuries were severe. He passed out from blood loss on the way to the hospital. The System’s life-support alarm blared in my head, over and over again. I sighed. I had no points left. If I wanted to save him, I would have to trade something else. I leaned in close to his pale face and whispered in his ear, “Alberto, this is the last time.” In the end, I chose to trade all of my feelings for him in exchange for a sliver of a chance at his survival. The moment the System extracted those emotions from my heart, the world went quiet. I looked down at the unconscious man on the gurney and saw a stranger. All the pain, the joy, the sleepless nights—it all vanished in an instant. There were six months left on the mission timer. An idea, one I had never considered before, popped into my head. So what if the mission fails? The worst that could happen is I don’t get my bonus. If he dies, I won’t. Besides, if he was so determined to walk into his own grave, what could I possibly do to stop him? I looked at the blood splattered all over the ambulance and took a disgusted step back. 4 I considered just leaving, finding some quiet corner of the world to hide in until the mission was over. But abandoning a mission mid-task would likely result in some unforeseen punishment. I decided to just phone it in, to do the bare minimum until the end. On the third morning, Alberto finally woke up. He shifted slightly and let out a soft groan.
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