Transmigrated Into A Doomsday Book: I Teamed Up With My Boss

Noah's POV

The breath tearing from my lungs felt like shards of glass scraping their way down my throat. I curled tighter against the frozen brick wall of the community shelter, shivering so violently that my teeth threatened to crack against one another.

Around me stretched a white wasteland of ice and snow. The world had been dying for two years, and the weather apocalypse showed no signs of mercy.

My mother had thrown me out of the house an hour ago, slamming the door with an expression of disgust. But it was my father's parting words that hurt more than the cold.

"Take that, you ungrateful leech," he sneered, tossing my last can of expired beans into the snow at my feet. "We only adopted you because your mother couldn't have children. We kept you around because we needed someone to help with the bills. Now that we have our own son, we don't need you anymore. Go freeze somewhere else."

Adopted. Squeezed out of every value. Then discarded.

For years, I had worked myself sick trying to earn their approval, convincing myself that if I did enough, sacrificed enough, and asked for nothing in return, they might finally treat me like their son.

None of it had mattered.

The moment my mother gave birth to their biological son, I became disposable.

My vision blurred. My knees buckled, and I slid farther down the wall, too exhausted to fight the cold anymore.

Then came the roar of an engine. An armored vehicle tore through the snowbank, its headlights cutting through the whiteout. Before it had fully stopped, the driver's door flew open.

A tall, terrifyingly broad man stumbled out. "NOAH!" His voice ripped through the storm.

Josh. My billionaire boss.

He sprinted toward me, his boots sinking into the snow. For a man who always seemed so composed, so cold and untouchable, he looked utterly undone.

He dropped to his knees in the freezing slush and gathered my stiff body into his arms.

"Noah? No, no. Open your eyes."

His hands trembled as he pressed me against his chest, desperately trying to warm my frozen body.

"Please." His voice broke as he sobbed. "Please, don't do this to me. I love you."

Tears streamed down his face. Josh Sinclair, the man who could buy out entire companies without blinking, was weeping over me as though the world had ended in his arms.

I wanted to open my eyes. I wanted to ask him why he'd never told me how he felt when I was still alive to hear it. But my body had already given up.

"If you cared so much," I wanted to choke out through my frozen lips. "why didn't you just tell me?"

The darkness swallowed me whole.

Thwack!

I snapped the book shut and sucked in a sharp breath, sitting upright as my heart hammered against my ribs.

I'd just finished reading The Bleeding Frost, a post-apocalyptic novel. The story had been so good, if only the ending hadn't been so tragic. It didn't help that the male lead was also named Noah, just like me.

Seriously, what kind of author spent an entire book making a character suffer, only to kill him off in the end?

I was still brooding over the ending when my father's voice cut through the living room. "Turn that filth off!"

I flinched, my head snapping toward the armchair where he sat.

On the television, two men stood beneath a streetlamp, their faces illuminated by a soft glow. One reached for the other's hand, their gazes meeting with a tenderness that made my chest warm. It was a BL movie I'd been quietly following. Apparently, my family didn't share my taste in movies.

My father marched across the living room, snatched the remote from the coffee table, and switched off the television. The screen went black.

"Disgusting," my mother muttered from her armchair, shaking her head. "Imagine two men doing that unnatural nonsense."

She clicked her tongue in disgust. "If any son of mine ever brought another man home, I'd disown him on the spot. It's an abomination."

My brother sniggered. "Don't worry, Mom. I won't be bringing home a man."

Their laughter filled the living room. I stared at the blank television screen, my fingers tightening around the paperback in my lap.

I'd spent years burying that part of myself beneath silence and careful excuses, learning when to laugh at their jokes and when to pretend I hadn't heard their hateful remarks.

I wanted to be myself. I wanted to live my truth without constantly worrying about who might discover it.

But I still depended on my parents for a roof over my head and help with my tuition. Until I could stand on my own two feet, I had little choice but to keep my head down and my secrets buried.

"I'm going to bed," I muttered, pushing myself off the sofa. "I've got an early class tomorrow."

"Make sure you're up on time," my father barked, already turning his attention back to the news on his phone.

I didn't bother responding. I carried the novel to my bedroom, shut the door, and locked it. Then I leaned against the wood and slowly sank to the floor.

I pressed the paperback against my chest, staring at the bold lettering on its cover as tears burned behind my eyes.

I don't want to live like this anymore. I wanted a life where I could breathe without fear. A life where I didn't have to choose between having a family and finding love.

Was that really too much to ask?

Exhaustion eventually dragged me toward the bed. I curled up on the lumpy mattress, the novel still clutched in my hand, and closed my eyes.

Tomorrow, I'd get up as usual, attend my classes, and pretend everything was fine.

For now, I just wanted to sleep.

~~~

The first thing I noticed when I opened my eyes was the smell: cedarwood and lemon.

I frowned. My bedroom had never smelled like that before.

In fact, my bedroom had never smelled like anything other than damp walls, old books, and the faint mustiness of a room that received too little sunlight.

I opened my eyes fully and froze. I was lying in the middle of an enormous bed covered in immaculate white sheets.

For several seconds, I simply stared at the unfamiliar ceiling.

Then I sat up. Minimalist furniture occupied the spacious room. Near the windows stood a sleek desk stacked with leather-bound folders and documents.

I stared at the room, waiting for something to make sense. This wasn't my bedroom. It didn't even look like a place I could have afforded to visit. 

I threw back the covers and scrambled out of bed. "What the hell?" The words came out in a voice so light and soft that I froze.

I blinked. That wasn't my voice.

My voice had always been fairly ordinary, but this one was gentler, with a delicate quality that made me sound nothing like myself.

My heart began to pound. I rushed toward the nearest mirror.

A stranger stared back at me. He was young, with fair skin and silky blonde hair that fell messily across his forehead. He had long eyelashes framing a pair of blue eyes, a little nose, and baby pink lips.

His features had a certain prettiness to them that made him look like he belonged in a painting.

I stared at him in disbelief as I ran my fingers through the silky strands, pulling them away from my forehead before letting them fall back into place.

My hair had always been brown, my face ordinary, and my voice even more so. But the person staring back at me had none of those things. I lifted a hand and touched my cheek. The stranger did the same.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." I looked down at myself, then back at the mirror.

Who the hell was this guy? A cold, mechanical chime rang inside my head.

[Ding! Transmigration sequence successfully completed.]

I jerked backward.

[Welcome, Host, to The Bleeding Frost survival game.]

[Current Timeline Check: Ninety days remaining until Phase One: The Great Heat Wave and Subsequent Deep Freeze.]

I stared at the empty room. Then I looked at my reflection again.

"No," I whispered, my mind racing as I tried to make sense of the situation.

I had no idea what was happening, but one thing was becoming painfully clear. Somehow, I was inside the book I'd finished reading last night.

And I was Noah, the doomed male lead from The Bleeding Frost.

According to the novel, I had approximately three months before the world began to collapse. I already knew how my story was supposed to end.

Alone. Betrayed. Frozen to death.

I stared at the unfamiliar face in the mirror.

"Oh, hell no.”