After Transmigrating into a Novel with My Boyfriend, He Turned Out to Be a Native Villain

Ever since returning from Aunt Filia’s place, Jodie had been restless. She could clearly feel Joeci’s eyes constantly on her.

This wasn’t just her imagination. Hearing the footsteps following her up the stairs, Jodie felt a chill crawl up her spine. Finally, unable to take it anymore, she spun around and snapped, “Joeci! Why do you keep following me?!”

But Da Dong simply tilted his head, his expression eerily blank. “What did that woman say to you?”

What? Did he mean Aunt Filia?

Jodie had no intention of answering. She refused to back down and retorted, “What does it have to do with you?”

That response seemed to hit a nerve. Joeci’s expression instantly darkened, her teeth clenching as she snarled, “Why won’t you tell me?! What exactly did you and that damn woman talk about?!”

Her sharp, feminine voice was suddenly laced with the deep, enraged tone of a grown man. Hearing that mixture come from the girl in front of her sent an eerie shiver down Jodie’s spine.

Jodie froze for a second before her face turned deathly pale. Stammering, she gasped, “Joeci… y-your voice!!”

Why did she sound like a man?!

Jodie didn’t believe her for a second. Seeing Joeci moving closer, she panicked and instinctively took a step back, her guard fully raised.

Something was definitely wrong with Joeci. Was it because of the woods? What exactly was in there?

Da Dong, sensing that Jodie had caught on, let his forced smile slowly fade. His face grew cold, and then—

He grinned.

An unnaturally wide, exaggerated grin.

“You figured it out.”

“You figured it out, Jodie.”

His eerie voice echoed through the air, sending vibrations through the walls. The framed photos on the wall suddenly fell with a loud crash, the glass shattering across the floor.

Jodie shook her head frantically, her face ghastly white. “No, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Seeing Joeci reaching out toward her, Jodie held her breath, her pupils shrinking in fear.

Just then, her mother’s voice called from downstairs. “Jodie, Joeci, what are you two doing? Why did I hear glass breaking?”

Joeci froze mid-motion.

Jodie, seeing her chance, seized the moment. Gritting her teeth, she shoved Joeci aside and bolted downstairs, too panicked to even acknowledge Jiang Xi’s concern. She yanked open the front door and ran out.

Right now, she had only one thought—

The woods.

Something was definitely wrong with the woods.

Jiang Xi watched her eldest daughter rush off in confusion, then looked up at Joeci standing on the stairs. “Joeci, what’s wrong with your sister? Were you two arguing?”

Joeci’s dark gaze lingered at the door before flicking to Jiang Xi’s worried face. She didn’t respond.

Instead, she turned and walked stiffly upstairs.

He had more important things to do—he had to report to the Young Master. There was no time to waste on these people.

—

Inside the empty bedroom, Da Dong knelt before a chair, his expression filled with excitement.

“Young Maste—”

Before he could finish speaking, a powerful force kicked him over.

A suffocating grip coiled around his throat, and his spirit was forcibly pulled from the girl’s body. Suspended in the air, his form flickered as the black mist clutched him by the neck.

The face of the middle-aged man twisted in terror. Already translucent and fragile, his soul wavered under the pressure. Blood seeped from his empty eye socket, his severed tongue leaving his mouth gaping open in horror.

“S-Sir… Young Master…” he croaked, his voice filled with pain.

He had appeared in the exact condition he had died—bleeding from every orifice, his tongue sliced off, an eyeball missing. A grotesque, nightmarish sight.

Da Dong assumed the Young Master was furious at his reckless actions. Trembling, he hurriedly begged, “F-forgive me, Young Master… I was too hasty… Please, have mercy…”

The man seated in the chair slowly materialized.

With his own hand, he grasped the middle-aged ghost’s throat, his cold gaze unreadable. His voice, however, was devoid of warmth.

“You scared her.”

Da Dong stiffened.

Scared…? Scared who?

Even if that was true—why was the Young Master so angry about it?

Wasn’t his real anger supposed to be over the fact that Da Dong nearly killed that woman? Why did it matter if she was scared?

A bad feeling crept over Da Dong. Forgetting even his own life, he shakily looked up at the man before him and asked in a fearful tone,

“Young Master… who are you talking about?”

Desperate, he prayed—

Please, not her…

But Bo Jingmo didn’t care what he was thinking.

His gaze swept over Da Dong’s hideously mangled face, then flicked to the lifeless girl’s body on the ground. His eyes narrowed, a frosty glint flashing through them as he muttered,

“You are unworthy to be touched by her.”

Da Dong barely had time to react before the grip on his throat tightened brutally.

Then, an enraged voice, dripping with jealousy, hissed into his ear—

“How dare you let her wipe your face!!”

He hadn’t even touched her himself yet—yet these filthy ghosts had stolen that first contact!

Da Dong finally understood.

Dangling in midair, his pupils contracted in pure disbelief. He gasped out, “Young Master! What are you saying?!”

That jealousy—was it really because he had interacted with that foreign woman?!

Then… was that the real reason he had been angry before, too?

Da Dong’s entire existence felt like it had been turned upside down. He even began to wonder—had the Young Master’s mind been damaged from sleeping for so many years?

How else could he possibly care about their enemy?!

But sensing that the fury surrounding him was only intensifying, Da Dong gritted his teeth and forced himself to apologize.

“I-I’m sorry… Young Master… I won’t dare to do it again.”

As things spiraled far beyond his expectations, an unusual glint flashed in Da Dong’s eyes.

He had never been good at handling situations like this.

Perhaps… it was time to awaken him.

Bo Jingmo didn’t notice the flicker of emotion in Da Dong’s expression.

Hearing his apology, he simply loosened his grip.

Lowering his gaze to the middle-aged ghost at his feet, his tone remained indifferent.

“If it happens again, don’t expect to keep your soul.”

He had no intention of killing Da Dong just yet. After all, thanks to him, he could now freely enter and leave that villa.

Da Dong slunk back into the girl’s body, completely shaken.

He looked up at Bo Jingmo, who was now narrowing his eyes in apparent satisfaction—clearly pleased by whatever thought had just crossed his mind.

An absurd possibility flickered through Da Dong’s mind.

First, the Young Master had ordered him to get close to that woman.

Then, that woman ended up carrying the Young Master’s scent.

No way…

Da Dong swallowed. “Young Master… are you going to find that—for… that foreign woman?”

Bo Jingmo glanced at him but didn’t answer.

But silence often meant agreement.

Da Dong felt his last shred of hope shatter. His face drained of all color.

He didn’t understand. That woman was their enemy.

Why was the Young Master interested in her? Had he forgotten?

But he had been told.

“Young Master, do you not believe me?” Da Dong crouched low, his bowed head hiding his expression. His voice was dark and unreadable.

“That woman is the one who killed you. Why… why are you drawn to her?”

If it were anyone else, Da Dong wouldn’t have cared.

But of all people, it had to be Filia.

Yet, hearing his words, Bo Jingmo’s eyes flickered with obsessive madness.

His tongue pressed lightly against his teeth, and a soft chuckle escaped his lips.

“Her soul…”

“…smells so sweet.”

So intoxicatingly sweet that it drove him to madness.

So irresistible that he could no longer stop himself from wanting to get closer.

From wanting to claim her as his own.

From the moment Bo Jingmo awakened, he noticed the enticing scent lingering on her.

Her soul seemed to be constantly luring him in.

How fascinating.

Everyone assumed that after Bo Jingmo became a ghost, he lost all self-awareness, reduced to a mindless NPC without memories.

But no one knew—he remembered everything.

He knew he was a player. He knew he was inside a film set world.

So every murder, every act of cruelty—Bo Jingmo carried them out with full awareness, and from each one, he felt an inexplicable euphoria.

What’s more, every time he entered a set, his body—perhaps influenced by the nature of a ghost—was overwhelmed by an insatiable bloodlust.

A restless agitation burned through his veins, seeping deep into his very bones, and only the sight of fresh blood could quell it.

In this world, Bo Jingmo was nothing short of a lucid madman.

And now, this unstable lunatic had found something even more intriguing than killing.

Bo Jingmo idly rubbed his fingertips together, his expression unreadable beneath the dim night. His tongue flicked over the corner of his lips, and a slow, dangerous smile curved his mouth.

Narrowing his eyes, he silently mouthed her name—

Filia.

Even in the real world, Bo Jingmo had never been this intrigued by anyone.

And yet, his fascination had surfaced here—toward an NPC in a film set.

The thought made him chuckle as he stood up.

He was already looking forward to tonight.