Quick Transmigration: Yandere Male Leads? Hand 'Em Over! - Chapter 158

You Che dreamed again of the day of the car accident.

The night before the group stage, his father had called, asking him to come back to the family estate for dinner with Grandpa. Everyone knew—that was the only excuse that could actually get him to come home.

Including his half-brother, who was two years older. The illegitimate son, always trying to copy his mannerisms, his tone, his gameplay, desperate to steal his spot and win the old man’s approval.

Because he’d stayed up late the night before to train, You Che had been running on fumes. The team coach offered to drive him, but halfway there, the brakes failed…

The coach died on impact.

You Che was seriously injured and hospitalized, unconscious for days.

And inside the team, there was a mole—someone throwing games on purpose.

There were only sixteen teams in the Spring Season. DE went from being the undefeated kings to not even making the top eight. They became the laughingstock of the entire esports world.

At the end of the nightmare, Qin Mo stood holding the world championship trophy from that year. He stomped on DE’s jersey and flag, while pulling the girl he liked into his arms.

You Che heard his voice, fake and smug, taunting him:

“So what if I’m a bastard? You Che, I’m taking everything that’s yours—”

“Your family. Your girl.”

Disgusting.

An overwhelming nausea twisted in his gut. His head throbbed violently, and blood kept seeping into his eyes, staining his vision red and making it impossible to see the killer’s face.

Then, a soft pale hand brushed away the blood. A warm palm pressed against his burning forehead.

You Che grabbed that hand like a lifeline—his last hope.

“Big sister… ngh, it hurts…”

He knew he must’ve looked pitiful, crying like that.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t open his eyes.

Tears didn’t even have a chance to fall before something warm and wet licked them away. Then something even softer brushed across his cheek, his earlobe, the corner of his lips…

The pain from the accident faded—but something else started to burn deep inside him.

He woke up with a jolt.

His whole body ached like he’d been run over. His lower back throbbed, his shoulders were stiff, and his neck felt like it had been twisted in his sleep. On his chest, a ball of fluff lay curled up, napping contentedly.

“Meow~”

“Don’t think acting cute’s gonna save you. Look at what you did to your poor stepdad last night, you little rascal…”

At that moment, the boy still naïvely believed that the reason he’d slept so poorly was because this tiny feline demon had been bothering him all night.

He casually nudged the kitten onto a nearby pillow, rubbed his sore neck, and mumbled as he climbed out of bed. Glancing around, his gaze caught on the nightstand.

There were a few photo frames there.

You Che was pretty sure they hadn’t been there the night before.

He blinked sleepily, let out a huge yawn, and took a closer look at the photos—only for a metaphorical thunderbolt to strike him on the spot.

W-When the hell did he take photos like this?!

He swore up and down—he never had!

On instinct, he went to destroy the blackmail evidence. But as he pulled one photo from the frame, he noticed something strange: the paper was thick and glossy, like the kind used in instant film.

Which meant—wait, hold on—

Could it be that last night, big sister had…

No. No way. She wasn’t like that.

Ragdoll Chebao: “Meow~”

Maybe he should check the rest of the wall before jumping to conclusions.

No matter how ridiculous the bedroom decor was, You Che still refused to believe she’d undress him in his sleep, pose him in humiliating positions, and take private photos like that—

Absolutely not possible.

He’d woken up fully clothed, without a single suspicious mark on him. And besides, she didn’t even know he was the real You Che.

So she had no reason to treat him like that.

These had to be fakes—stitched together from internet photos.

Still… a strange sense of disappointment crept into his chest.

When he looked at the photos again, he couldn’t help noticing how off everything was. The nose wasn’t quite right. The eyes weren’t his. Even the body wasn’t as good. Where the hell had she found a knockoff model like that?

Straightening in front of the mirror, he tried to fix the wrinkles in his shirt, completely unaware that beneath his collar, a trail of faint pink strawberry marks decorated the back of his neck.

When he opened the door and stepped out, Su Ci was sitting out on the balcony, painting. Her long hair was tied in a loose ponytail, posture relaxed and graceful.

Sunlight streamed in through the fluttering gauze curtains, casting soft shadows that danced across the floor. The glass doors framed the whole scene like a dreamlike painting.

See? With that gentle temperament and elegant face, how could big sister possibly be some dark, twisted stalker fan?

You Che walked closer, voice soft with guilt.

“Sorry, big sister… I fell asleep in your room by accident. Are you a fan of DE’s You Che too? What a coincidence, I’m a fan of his too!”

“Awake already?” Su Ci didn’t look up as she carefully mixed colors on her palette. She glanced at him briefly, her tone light and teasing. “Are you a stalker fan too?”

That cool, observational gaze felt like she was studying him like a live model.

You Che felt a little awkward. His pale cheeks flushed red. He didn’t know if it was because of her direct words—or the way she was looking at him so boldly.

“No way! I just like buying merch,” he mumbled. “If you really like someone, you should be willing to spend money on them… My classmates even say I’m the ‘Che of C University.’ Big sister, I’m pretty good at games too…”

He snuck a glance at her canvas.

It was filled with dark, abstract shapes—he couldn’t make heads or tails of it. But one thing was clear: she’d been watching him, yes, but she hadn’t been drawing him.

You Che sighed inwardly.

A knockoff could never compare to the real thing.

One day, he’d win that fourth championship trophy and show her that being his fan was something to be proud of.

Even though he didn’t want to leave, he still finished the breakfast she’d saved for him, then slipped out quietly.

Next time he came, he’d bring honor and medals—not this pitiful excuse of a self.

Su Ci tilted her head as she watched the boy’s slender figure walk away. Twirling her brush between her fingers, she casually added the final touches of color—then signed the painting in the center.

LD (Love Diary) was the country’s biggest fan-interest art platform. After finishing the piece, she snapped a photo with her phone and uploaded it to her personal page.

[Banwa: Best viewed in inverted colors. Che, from a girlfriend’s perspective.]

Within minutes, the comments exploded—99+ notifications in no time.

[That flushed face, that dazed look—he’s so soft and dirty! And is he really biting the blanket? I bet he’s the type to cry while getting wrecked.]

[Banwa-sensei, you are GOD. I’m not even in the fandom, but I stopped by for a taste anyway.]

[I swear something’s going on between you and Che. Your fanart feels way too real, it’s unreal.]

[The signature—so satisfying! I love it when you carve your name into Che’s face.]

[Isn’t this OOC? You Che’s so cold and aloof when he plays. Why would he act like some lovesick puppy in romance?]

[None of your business. I ship Banwa x Che, and I need more content. Please keep feeding us, sensei!]