My new husband discovered my secret. He stared at the NSFW webcomic drafts on my computer—where the male lead looked suspiciously like him—for a long time. Then, he slowly opened his mouth: "So, this is why you agreed to marry me?" Help! Is it too late to say I have a split personality? 1 "Do you have anything you want to explain?" Caleb Thorne, freshly showered and wearing only a bathrobe, sat on the sofa, tapping his fingers lightly on the armrest. Explain...? I glanced at the steamy drafts on the screen in front of him and hung my head in utter shame. "I'm sorry..." Help! Is it too late to fake Dissociative Identity Disorder?! Let's rewind thirty minutes. I was occupying Caleb's study, rushing to meet my comic deadline as usual. I didn't expect Caleb to come back early from his business trip abroad. Not only did he come back, but he also discovered the earth-shattering secret I'd been hiding! "Sorry?" Caleb glanced at one of the male leads on the screen, subtly adjusting his robe to cover his magnificent chest. He let out a chuckle that I couldn't quite decipher. "Your observation skills are quite... detailed." Hearing this, I wished the floor would open up and swallow me whole. "When did this start?" His tone was casual, yet it made me instantly obedient, like a student called into the principal's office. "T-two months ago." "We've only known each other for two months." Caleb's tone was ambiguous. His gaze held a hint of scrutiny, and then he suddenly laughed. "Well, it seems I need to rephrase the question." Caleb stood up. His tall, towering figure cast a shadow over me, bringing an inexplicable sense of oppression. He raised an eyebrow, his voice cooling slightly. "So, this is why you agreed to marry me? For art?" "No!" I instinctively wanted to deny it, but then I remembered that I did have that thought the first time I saw Caleb. My voice trailed off guiltily. "I didn't expect my little wife to have such an interesting job." Caleb gave me a half-smile, his posture relaxing. "This is good. We each get what we need. No need to take it too seriously." Get what we need? I looked at Caleb's deeply handsome face, and my gaze slowly drifted downward. ...If you put it that way, I guess he's not wrong? 2 The first day I met Caleb, I drew a picture of him. Yes, without clothes. He was seemingly buying boba tea for someone, his suit jacket draped over his arm, revealing a Patek Philippe watch on his wrist. Sharp brows, an aura of nobility. Head-to-body ratio of 1:9. Perfect comic book proportions. Excellent. He fit the male lead settings for my new comic perfectly! I immediately pulled out my sketchbook and quickly sketched his precise lines. But as I moved lower, I paused, struggling with the proportions. "This size seems a bit small..." "Size?" A stranger's voice interrupted. Lost in my thoughts about incorrect sizing, I replied without thinking, "Yeah, I feel like it should be bigger." "Bigger...?" The voice held a hint of surprise. I realized something was wrong and stiffly looked up, meeting Caleb's face. He smiled gently at me, but his voice was chilly. "So, what size do you think it is now?" "101, 77, 95..." [Chest, Waist, Hips in cm] I blurted out a string of numbers instinctively. As soon as the words left my mouth, Caleb's smile deepened, looking elegant and refined. He took off his glasses and wiped them. "Your visual estimation skills are indeed impressive." "May I have this drawing?" "Of... of course." Without his glasses, Caleb was completely different from his previous gentle self. His dark eyes stared straight at me like a predator eyeing its prey. The immense pressure made me nod tremblingly. "Thank you." Caleb thanked me politely, then extremely politely asked for my phone number. Just as I thought my spring of romance had arrived, Caleb smiled brightly: "My lawyer will contact you later regarding the violation of my portrait rights." I instantly went poker-faced, cursing internally. Then, this man who threatened to sue me turned out to be my blind date that evening. Beside him sat a cup of boba tea bought that afternoon. —Oh, so he bought the tea for himself. Seeing me stare at the tea, Caleb leisurely took a sip, his tone apologetic. "I didn't realize Miss Tory was my date, so I only bought one cup." I let out a "Heh." Old grudges and new hate combined, making my brain hot. I grabbed the tea Caleb just put down and drank half of it in one go. "It's okay. Sharing a cup is romantic. I get it." I deliberately winked at Caleb, eagerly expecting to see his face turn black. However, Caleb just froze for a second, then smiled. "$6.25. Venmo?" The tea was $12.50. I drank half, so $6.25. Realizing this, I cursed internally, vowing to draw Caleb as the bottom in my new BL comic. I aggressively scanned his QR code, added him, and sent the money. Caleb glanced at his phone, his smile widening. "Miss Tory is very interesting." Pah! Dog man! 3 But in the end, I flash-married Caleb. Seduced by beauty, constantly tempted by beauty. Caleb was polite and gentle, making it clear from the start: "I need a wife to deal with my parents." "Coincidentally, me too." Back then, I was stubborn. Later, every time I bragged about "how handsome my hubby is," I regretted it. —Wasn't this just slapping my own face? But for now, Caleb didn't know I liked him. I sighed heavily and messaged my bestie group chat: "Mr. Thorne came back tonight..." I briefly recounted the evening's events. However, the focus of my four chaotic besties was clearly off— Bestie 1: "Late at night, freshly showered..." Bestie 2: "And saw steamy comics..." Bestie 3: "And in the end, he just coldly put on clothes and went back to the office??" Only Bestie 4 hit the nail on the head: "Tory, you weren't wearing those Teletubby pajamas, were you?!" I retorted: "I wasn't! Don't talk nonsense!" Then I looked down at my Peppa Pig pajamas and thought, well, technically I didn't lie. "Wear the one I gave you!" Sasha called immediately, sounding exasperated. "Put it on and wait in bed for your Mr. Thorne to come back." "Tory, tonight is do or die!" I sniffled, gave a wronged "Oh," and rummaged through the closet to find the wedding gift Sasha gave me— A themed outfit that extremely conserved fabric for the nation. However, I sweated buckets and couldn't figure out how to put it on. So, I took a picture to ask Sasha. After sending it, I continued to struggle with the outfit. No reply for a long time. Confused, I picked up my phone and realized in horror that I sent it to the wrong person. Not only the wrong person, but I sent it to Caleb. —I nicknamed Sasha "Hubby Wubby" and Caleb "Hubby." One word difference, fatal mistake! I tried to unsend it, but the time limit had passed. Just as I was racking my brain wondering if Caleb would believe the split personality excuse now, he replied. "Is this also a plot in your new comic?" 4 Sasha says I've always been bold. But right now, the "bold" me sat on the bed, clutching my phone, staring at Caleb's message. After a long while, I tremblingly replied: "You guessed it..." After sending the message, I buried myself under the covers and let out a long sob. —So freaking cowardly! However, Caleb replied quickly: "Prepared for the protagonist based on me?" A few seconds later, another message popped up: "Although as the author you have absolute control over the character settings, the prototype prefers red." Red... red? I stiffly turned my head to look at the black translucent fabric spread on the bed. My brain uncontrollably imagined Caleb changing into this outfit— I gasped, suddenly feeling Sasha was right. Risk it all, turn a bicycle into a motorcycle! Fight hard, and babies will drop! 5 To capture Caleb's heart as soon as possible, I stayed up all night drafting a detailed plan. However, when I sent it to the group chat, everyone fell silent. "That's it?" "You read The Art of War and only learned to run away?" "Honestly, I haven't seen a 'steamy' date plan where kissing is the climax since elementary school." Sasha immediately sent a screenshot— It was the protagonist based on Caleb from my new comic, with a red circle highlighting a hickey on his fair neck. Me: "???" Me: "I refuse to discuss work in non-formal talks!" Sasha is my bestie and editor. "Heh," Sasha sneered, typing furiously. "This is the hickey you spent days drawing? Honestly, if you told me a pig gnawed on him, I'd believe it. Tory, the prototype is right beside you and you draw like this? I think you should switch careers to pig farming!" I fell silent. I was enlightened. So, I grabbed my tablet and marched to the study. Just as I was about to knock, the door opened from the inside, and my hand landed right on Caleb's chest. Hiss— Big. Solid. Want to touch more. Caleb wasn't wearing glasses. His gaze was sharp with a hint of scrutiny. He glanced at my hand with a half-smile, meaningful: "Preparing for the new comic again?" This sounded familiar; he seemed to have said it last night too. But a dead pig doesn't fear boiling water. I feigned calmness, pretending not to notice where my hand was, tone deep: "Actually, I do have a favor to ask you..." Caleb didn't speak, just raised a brow, signaling me to continue. "Sasha said the hickey I drew looks like it was gnawed by a pig." I carefully observed Caleb's expression and boldly continued, "You know, one must make sacrifices for art!" I saw Caleb's smile stiffen for a second. His gaze swept over my neck darkly. He pinched the bridge of his nose and chuckled. "So?" Thinking of the group chat mocking my perfect seduction plan, I gritted my teeth. Heart steeling, I jumped onto Caleb, wrapping my arms around his neck, and buried my face into his neck for a big suck. "Tory—Mmph!" 6 According to my plan, I should have sucked hard on Caleb's sexy Adam's apple. Ideally triggering his beastly instincts, leading to this and that, achieving my ultimate goal. But I underestimated Caleb's height. This bite landed hard on his collarbone. It hurt so much my tears instantly sprang out. Caleb grunted, instinctively cupping my butt to support me, his tone sounding a bit teeth-gritting: "Get down!" "No!" Even though it hurt like hell, I clung to Caleb like a koala, refusing to let go, crying and arguing: "This is for work!" "Work?" Caleb laughed in anger. He carried me into the study and dropped me into a chair with one hand. I instinctively covered my mouth, looking up at him tearfully. Caleb leaned on the armrests, squinted at my mouth, and suddenly laughed. "Art really comes from life." I stared at him blankly, covering my mouth, unable to react. "Pig gnawing." Caleb pointed at my covered mouth, the smile in his eyes deepening. "Seems your friend was right." Me: "..." So freaking mad. "Put your hand down," he sighed, helplessness appearing between his brows. "Let me see." I whined, trying to act cute, but was scared into obedience by Caleb's look. "Nothing serious—does it hurt?" Caleb curled his lips, changing the subject. Maybe the dim light in the study added some ambiguity, or maybe Caleb was incredibly gentle right now, so I plucked up my bear courage to ask for benefits: "Hurt, it hurts a lot!" I thought Caleb would comfort me, but he just straightened up, looking down. "Hurting is correct. Since it's your work, why isn't it on your body?" "It's... it's inconvenient to draw looking in the mirror!" I looked away guiltily, mumbling, "Besides, even if I draw it, it's not drawing me..." Caleb took a deep breath and smiled at me. "Seen enough?" "No..." I glanced at the mark on his straight collarbone, painfully contemplating the probability of him agreeing to "one more time." "Want to do it again?" Just as I was lost in thought, Caleb's voice carried a hint of seduction. His eyes smiled, clear and gentle. "Or, give our dear author 'Lady Wine' some more creative inspiration, for example..." His fingers moved down slowly, unbuttoning one by one. His superior physique peeked through. My eyes lit up, completely missing that he said my pen name. I even obediently closed my eyes when he whispered for me to. Then, Caleb held my waist and pushed me out the door. I watched dumbfounded as he buttoned up his shirt one by one in front of me, his slow movements carrying a hint of ruthlessness. "Rest early," Caleb's voice was gentle, even polite, "or go busy yourself with work." Then the door slammed shut in my face. I turned around expressionlessly, pulled out my phone, and typed furiously in the group chat: "I'm so mad!!!" "Caleb Thorne is impotent!!!"
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