I wrote the novel that killed me. Literally. The final chapter—my character’s betrayal, the knife in the alley, the last breath under a broken streetlamp—I wrote it all before I woke up *inside* the story. Now I’m living every word, heartbeat by heartbeat, knowing exactly how it ends. But this time, I remember. This time, I see the trap. And if I don’t rewrite my fate fast, the next page will be my death scene… again.

A Seoul-based writer gains unexpected attention when a serial killer begins using methods described in his novels. The killer, Jisung, becomes obsessed with both the writer and his work, seeing the novels as inspiration and encouragement for his violent crimes. When the killer tracks down his favorite author, their encounter takes a dark and twisted turn that threatens to end the writer's life - or change it forever.

Everyone loved my older sister. When the novel I wrote shot to popularity, she got jealous and suddenly proclaimed that she wanted to be a popular author too. My older brother, who was the editor-in-chief, immediately announced that I plagiarized my sister's story at my book signing and she ended up becoming the genius author while I got cyberbullied so much that I was too scared to leave the house. After I got married to a young heir from high society and lived a happy life, my sister told me that she had a crush on him for years and wanted to be his bride at least once in her lifetime. He did not even think twice about divorcing me and holding the wedding of the century with my sister. My family was afraid that I would sabotage their relationship, so they made me leave the country. However, my sister did not think that I was miserable enough. She came for me outside the country and pushed me down the stairs. I was lying in a pool of blood when my mother rebuked me, "Did you say something that made your sister unhappy again?" That was how I died in despair. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day my brother accused me of plagiarism.