I just found out my younger brother is the male lead in a romance novel. According to the plot, on his eighteenth birthday, he's supposed to meet the female lead, and sparks will fly. Refusing to be part of their twisted game, I hurriedly packed my bags to leave the country. Learning I was leaving, the brother who usually acted so gentle sneered, trapping me in his arms with a look that was both sick and obsessive: "Sister, I forgot to tell you... we aren't blood-related." 01 After discovering my brother was a novel's male lead, the way I looked at Liam changed completely. At the time, Liam was seventeen and a junior in high school. Wearing his blue and white school hoodie, he dropped his backpack, looking relaxed and a bit lazy: "Chloe, I'm home." This kid. Ever since he started high school, he stopped calling me "sis" and always used my first name. Even though it annoyed me, seeing him towering at almost 6'2", I didn't dare push it too much. Especially since I had just learned that in this novel, Liam was a "naturally gifted, tirelessly energetic" male lead. Normally, when he refused to call me "sis," I would run over and mess up his hair. But now... "Chloe, why are you looking at me like that?" Liam's tone was cool as he glanced up at me. I pretended to stare at the TV, acting like nothing was wrong. "Nothing." Honestly, the pet on this TV show is pretty cute... "What are you smiling at?" It was summer. Liam took off his jacket, revealing a white t-shirt underneath, his hair slightly messy. He swept his slightly upturned eyes over the TV and casually sat down next to me on the sofa. "What is that?" I choked on my own spit, coughing violently. Liam naturally reached out to pat my back. I froze, glanced at the TV, and said, "That... I think it's a cockatoo." "Hm." He pulled his hand back, crossed his arms, and leaned back against the sofa. Tilting his head back, he closed his eyes. His eyelashes were really long. I looked at his sharp, handsome profile. This kid, his skin was not only pale and clear, but his features were incredibly refined. Let's just say he looked like a young movie star. The most distinctive thing was a small red mole right on his Adam's apple. It was very eye-catching. I coughed, shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, and kept my eyes glued to the screen. But my mind had already drifted back to the plot of the novel. On his eighteenth birthday, Liam falls in love at first sight with a girl five years older than him. He becomes dangerously possessive and obsessively in love. And I, somehow, become a part of their twisted games. Finding torn clothes and crumpled tissues in the mansion I share with Liam... Thinking about it made me inexplicably annoyed. I grabbed my phone, wanting to retreat to my room. Before I could take a few steps, Liam stood up and grabbed my wrist. Thinking of that absurd plot, I snapped at him, "What?" The seventeen-year-old boy leaned down, glancing at me before lowering his head: "No head pats today?" Under the lamplight, his soft hair had a gentle halo. I don't know what came over me, but I reached out and ruffled his hair like a dog's, leaving a few strands sticking up in all directions. Finally, I instinctively patted his head, like praising an obedient pet. Once I was done, Liam straightened up, smirked, and threw an arm around my shoulder, leading me upstairs. He smelled faintly of crisp mint. I vaguely felt something was off: "Liam, what are you doing?" Liam glanced at me sideways, then pinched his earlobe and said, "Weren't you going to your room? I'm going up too." Wait... according to the novel, every time Liam wouldn't let the female lead out of bed, he would pinch his own earlobe... But then again, maybe it's just a subconscious habit? Feeling a strange, indescribable sensation in my chest, I hurried back to my room. 02 Back in my room, I couldn't help but recall the scene when I saw Liam again at eighteen. My parents divorced when I was very young. I lived abroad with my mom, while Liam, who was barely a year old, stayed with my dad in the States. When I became an adult, my father passed away. I left my mother's new family and resolutely returned to the States to take care of this underage, practically stranger of a younger brother. At my father's funeral, I saw fourteen-year-old Liam wearing an ill-fitting black suit. Like a lone wolf, the boy stood in front of the tombstone, watching the people come and go with cold detachment. It was a gloomy day. The clouds were dark, and soon a light drizzle began to fall. I walked up to him with an umbrella, feeling a bit absurd as I spoke: "Hi, I'm your surprise sister, Chloe." After that day, I became Liam's legal guardian. At first, he would obediently call me "sister," but after over a decade apart, there was an inevitable distance and caution between us. Yet, there was no denying we shared the same blood. What truly brought us closer happened the year Liam turned fifteen. It was the anniversary of our father's death. School had let out a long time ago, but Liam still hadn't come home. Without a second thought, I went to the cemetery where our father was buried. And there, I found Liam, eyes red, hugging the tombstone and crying. "How did you know I was here?" Are you kidding? You didn't come home on your dad's death anniversary, where else would you be? I didn't answer. I just told him to come home with me. I remember clearly what he said: "I don't have a mom, and now I don't have a dad either." I didn't comfort him, because, in a way, I was the same. I didn't have a dad, and my mom was busy being a mom to someone else's kids. He and I, we were the same kind of people. "Liam, look on the bright side. I still have a younger brother, and you still have an older sister." I stood there in a standoff with him for a while. Finally, Liam got up, slung his black cartoon backpack over his shoulder, followed behind me, and went home. I have to say, he was starving. He ate three huge bowls of rice when we got back. Regardless, from that point on, our relationship improved significantly. It wasn't until he hit high school that he started rebelling. He stopped calling me "sis" and used my first name instead, which was highly disrespectful. This kid. I was the one who went to all his parent-teacher conferences. 03 A noise at the door interrupted my memories. Liam's cool voice called out: "Chloe, sign this for me." I opened the door, took the permission slip from him, and signed my name. In a daze, I realized Liam's eighteenth birthday was fast approaching, just a few months away. Handing the slip back, I casually asked, "Liam, what do you want for your eighteenth birthday?" Liam glanced at me, looked away, paused for a moment, and said, "You guess." I looked up and caught sight of the small red mole on his Adam's apple. He was looking down, staring intently at me. An unnamed emotion flooded my heart. I pushed down the weird feeling, made a casual joke, and went back to my room. Would a docile-looking Liam really fall hopelessly in love with the female lead on his eighteenth birthday and turn into the psycho described in the plot? In the middle of the night, still baffled, I texted my friend to grab some late-night food. At the food truck, looking at my best friend Maya, I couldn't help but ask, "Do you think it's possible we're actually NPCs in a novel?" Hearing this, Maya cracked open a beer, took a big swig, and said dismissively, "If we're NPCs, we're NPCs. NPCs still gotta drink beer." This glutton. I couldn't help but smirk, grabbing a skewer of grilled meat. "You're right. NPCs still gotta eat barbecue." We were in the middle of eating when Maya suddenly checked her phone and urged me, "Aren't you going back? Your brother's probably going to come dragging you home soon." I took another sip of beer, annoyed. "What brother?" Maya looked behind me and gloated, "Chloe, good luck." I turned my head a beat too slow and saw Liam in a black hoodie. He scanned a QR code to pay the bill, called an Uber for Maya, and after seamlessly handling all that, walked over to me. "Chloe, you don't have a brother?" I explained awkwardly, "I've just been on my own for so long, I forgot." I'd only been living with Liam for a few years. Besides, I was already eighteen when I met him. Subconsciously, I never really saw him as a brother. He was just some kid to me. Moreover, how did he know I was here? The tall, lean figure suddenly leaned down, and I heard him ask, "Are you drunk?" "No." I've always had a high tolerance; I wouldn't get drunk this easily. But then, Liam held up some fingers and asked how many there were. I just opened my mouth and bit his hand. "Why are you pointing at me..." I heard a soft chuckle near my ear. Liam pinched his earlobe, his tone dark. "I hope you really are drunk." 04 When I woke up again, it was already noon. Liam had gone to school early. I rubbed my throbbing head and crawled out of bed. Looking in the mirror at a face that shared some resemblance with Liam's, I suddenly noticed my lips were a bit swollen. Confused, I wondered if I was having an allergic reaction. In the afternoon, when Liam came home, I asked him, "Did you feed me jelly last night?" He raised an eyebrow and asked what was wrong. "Nothing, just felt like it tasted pretty good." Liam seemed to think of something. He touched his nose, dropped his backpack, and said casually, "Glad you liked it." I watched him go upstairs, then pulled out my phone to look for birthday presents for him. I was deeply engrossed when Liam's homeroom teacher called. Liam was a senior now and had always refused to live in the dorms. With only a few months left until finals, even though his grades were excellent, his teacher hoped he would move in. After hanging up, I went upstairs and knocked on Liam's door. When he opened it, his hair was messy, and he looked exhausted. I asked him what was wrong. He leaned against the doorframe, glanced at me, and said, "Catching up on sleep." I remembered I was the reason he stayed up late last night and felt a bit guilty. But I still told him about his teacher's call. Before, when he didn't want to live on campus, I let him have his way. But finals were approaching, and to give him more time to study, I was very firm about him moving in. Hearing this, Liam lowered his eyes. Seeing that I wasn't leaving room for negotiation, his expression remained flat as he nodded in agreement. Seeing him agree, I breathed a sigh of relief. If Liam wasn't home, I wouldn't have to overthink things. But I celebrated too soon. In the middle of the night, while I was sound asleep, a loud crash woke me up. It sounded like something heavy falling. I rushed out and saw Liam leaning against the wall at the bottom of the stairs. His face was pale, cold sweat on his forehead. When he looked at me, his eyes were dark. I ran down, noticed his swollen red ankle, and anxiously asked what happened. Liam leaned his entire weight on me, his voice hoarse: "I missed a step." Liam has perfect vision, and the hallway light was on. How could he miss a step? Before I could think too much, Liam rested his head on my shoulder, his breathing rising and falling by my ear. The pain made his breathing erratic. It looked serious. I quickly helped him into the car. In the SUV, leaning against the passenger seat, his voice was weak: "Chloe, buckle me in." I leaned over him. The scent of crisp mint filled my nose. Just then, Liam lifted his arm slightly, making it look like I was being embraced by him. My heart skipped a beat as I hurriedly buckled him in. Anxious, I sped to the hospital. The doctor looked at Liam's severely swollen ankle and asked, confused, "How did you fall?" Liam said flatly, "Missed a step coming down the stairs." The older doctor frowned. "Missing a step wouldn't cause a fall like this. It looks more like someone..." Before the doctor could finish, Liam interrupted, "Doctor, just prescribe some medicine for now." The doctor looked at me, then at Liam, and sighed. "I'll give you an analgesic spray and some ice packs. If it still hurts after a week, come back for another check-up." 05 Liam is an arrogant kid with a slight germaphobe streak. But he never rejected me. So, I took the initiative to apply the ice packs for him, and then sprayed the medicine on his foot. On the way home, Liam looked out the window and suddenly said, "My foot hurts. Do I still have to live in the dorms?" I sighed. With a foot like that, applying medicine in a dorm would be inconvenient. It was best he stayed home so I could take care of him. "No, I'll pick you up from school lately." I casually turned on the car stereo. Liam was staring intently out the window. While waiting at a red light, I glanced over and noticed my reflection in the passenger window. "Does it still hurt?" He looked over, his Adam's apple bobbing, that small mole highly visible. "It doesn't hurt." Because of his leg injury, I picked him up from school every day. Today, I saw a few guys walking next to Liam, seemingly asking him something. Being close, I heard everything. "It's been three years, and you haven't dated anyone." "Yeah, a lot of girls like you, Liam. What exactly is your type?" I rolled down the window and waved at Liam. He said something to the guys and walked over, his steps looking a bit strained. As soon as he sat down, I asked curiously, "What were you guys talking about?" Liam crossed his arms and looked at me sideways. His hair covered his brows, a straight nose, thin lips—he was very good-looking. "Someone older than me." I nodded in understanding. So he did like older girls. No wonder he'd fall in love at first sight with an older woman. For some reason, hearing him say that made me not want to continue the conversation. Instead, he broke his usual silence and asked me: "The music is so loud. Is the soundproofing good?" I answered without thinking, "Of course. Not only is the soundproofing good, but it's also spacious. Two adults could lay down in the back seat without feeling cramped." ... Wait, could my car become a prop in his twisted games with the female lead? I shot him a glare and snapped, "Why do you ask?" He raised his hand, his long, thin fingers pinching his earlobe. "Nothing." This kid, always acting so mysterious. 06 Since Liam had finals coming up, I went into his room at night to spray the medicine and massage his ankle. When I entered, Liam was lying in bed, seemingly napping. High school senior pressure was intense, and with his injured foot, I was genuinely worried. His room was all black and white, simple and clear. I walked in quietly, sat on the edge of the bed, and rolled up his sweatpants. His ankle was swollen, red, and purplish. It hurt just to look at it. How could he fall so badly just missing a step... I sprayed the medicine and gently massaged it the way the doctor showed me. The person on the bed opened his eyes, his dark gaze sweeping over me. He called me in a low voice, "Chloe." "Hmm?" I focused on massaging his ankle without giving him a glance. "Go to sleep." After massaging for a while, the person on the bed actually fell asleep. I pulled the covers over him and looked around his room. There was a large bay window behind the black curtains. In the plot, he and the female lead did many inappropriate things there. For instance, the female lead looking out the window, begging pitifully, "Don't do this." And beneath the sleek black desk beside it, the space was large enough to fit an adult. I frowned, understanding instantly. I've read too much of this stuff; my mind is tainted. Liam's desk was very tidy. My sharp eyes noticed a black notebook at the very top. I subconsciously reached out to touch it. It seemed to be Liam's diary. With a black leather cover, the diary seemed as cold and aloof as Liam himself. "Chloe, don't look." When did he wake up? Surprised, I pulled my hand back: "I wasn't looking." Liam propped himself up, looking exhausted, his voice hoarse: "Chloe, I want some of your noodles." 07 On the day of our father's funeral, I took Liam home. The fourteen-year-old locked himself in his room without a word and wouldn't come out no matter how much I called him. That night, I made a bowl of noodles and left it at his door. In the early hours of the morning, I went out for a drink of water and saw Liam sitting on the floor in the hallway, eating the noodles. He was wolfing it down, completely abandoning his usual composure. I pretended not to see, went downstairs for some hot water, and waited a long time before returning to my room. The next morning, when I went downstairs, someone was washing dishes in the kitchen. The boy, wearing an apron, poked his head out and politely said, "Good morning, sis." Remembering the past, I couldn't help but smile: "Okay, I'll go make some." I happened to have a handful of noodles left. In the pot, the water was boiling violently. Watching the noodles toss and turn in the boiling water, I couldn't help but think that in the predestined plot, we were just like these noodles in the pot—helpless duckweeds in the rushing river of fate. Lost in thought, a pair of strong arms suddenly wrapped around my waist. Stunned, I was about to push him away when I heard the person behind me say, "I miss Dad." When he said that, I simply couldn't refuse him. Liam rested his head on my shoulder, his warm breath tickling my ear. He whispered, "Chloe, don't be nervous." I wasn't nervous, just felt a bit unnatural. After a long pause, he sighed and murmured to himself, "Sister, we were always meant to be the closest of people." Liam's heart was beating like a drum against my back. I felt a wave of dizziness. ...
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