“Ahh! That tickles…!”

Haebom squirmed, bursting into laughter at the sensation of fingers brushing against his skin.

He had always been sensitive to ticklishness, but being touched like this made it even harder to endure.

“Agh…! Why there…! W-Wait a minute!”

Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes from laughing so hard.

But the moment the man’s hand swept over his side, Haebom flinched violently in surprise—no, he tried to.

Yet, he couldn’t move at all.

A formless, invisible force restrained him, allowing only slight, futile movements.

The man only had two hands, yet it felt as if there were many more.

“Haa, this feels weird. Don’t touch me…! Why are you—hngh…!”

He couldn’t move his body, but his hands were still free.

Desperate, he tried to push away the man’s touch, grabbing onto his wrists to pry them off.

No matter that they were both men—this was far beyond what he could tolerate.

Perhaps irritated by Haebom’s protests, the man swallowed his lips again.

His hands roamed over Haebom’s body as if thoroughly inspecting every inch of him.

Haebom felt like he was losing his mind.

A stranger he had never seen before was touching him, kissing him.

And worst of all, every time the man made contact, Haebom felt as if his strength was being drained away.

It wasn’t just physical strength—something else was being pulled from him.

Like his very soul was being siphoned away.

How had things come to this?

He had only come here for a camping trip….

‘I just wished he had lived. I never said I wanted to meet him…!’

The teardrops pooling in his eyes finally fell, rolling down his cheeks.

But the man didn’t stop.

Because he wasn’t just any man.

He was a character from the romance novel Haebom had been reading the night before.

A sub male protagonist.

One who had chosen to die alone for the sake of the heroine.