After dying at the age of 30, I was reincarnated as the childhood friend of the male lead in a romance-fantasy novel.

The catch? That friend is a background character doomed to die young at 18 due to illness.

In the novel, the male lead develops trauma after the death of his childhood friend and goes on to reject the frail female lead—only to eventually fall in love with her and live happily ever after.

But why, out of all people, did I have to be that childhood friend?

Dying early was tragic enough, but leaving someone with lifelong trauma? That was something I definitely wanted to avoid.

I had no choice. Since things turned out this way, I’d have to make full use of the reincarnator’s virtue.

Plan A: Don’t get close to the male lead.

“Young master, if you become friends with me, you’ll definitely regret it.”

“I’ll never regret it.”

“…You just dropped the honorifics.”

“Friends are supposed to speak casually.”

My timid attempt evolved into a bold stance, but my stubbornness ended in utter failure.

Plan B: Run away before I die, so he doesn’t suffer a shock.

I did run away, but—

“Shit. Why am I not dying…?”

Something was definitely going wrong.

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