Todos los capítulos de I Accidentally Transmigrated Into My Own Book. : Capítulo 1 - Capítulo 10

Erin's POVMy apartment was a freaking disaster zone but it was exactly how I liked it. My deadline was close, and the plot of chapter fifty-two was making me want to bash my damn head against my keyboard. I had a half-empty mug of cold coffee sitting next to a pile of snack wrappers, and my laptop was open on the coffee table with chapter fifty-two glaring at me. I’ve been stuck at this chapter for the past two hours and I didn’t have a damn clue where to go from there.I stood up intending to grab another refill of coffee, I took two steps, and stepped on a stray water bottle that had somehow fallen onto the rug.My feet pulled out from under me and I went down hard, and the cup of cold coffee flew out of my hand and splashed directly across the keyboard. "Shit!" I screamed, scrambling up from the floor and diving for the laptop.I grabbed it, but slipped on a fuckign rogue soda can. Suddenly time seemed to move slow, I pitched forward through a dizzying wave of gray static and lan

Walking out of Aura Travel was a damn circus. Greg was bowing so low I thought he was going to split his damn pants, and Lana was no beter, she was staring at me like I was being taken away by a federal SWAT team. I didn't say a word. I just grabbed my laptop bag, shoved my hands into the pockets of my baggy jeans, and followed Cyrus out the doors before he decided to do some alpha-male bullshit like slinging me over his shoulders in broad daylight.A pitch-black SUV was idling at the curb. One of his massive security guys opened the door, and Cyrus gestured for me to get in first.I slid onto the leather seat, sticking as close to the door as humanly possible. Cyrus climbed in right after me, his long legs taking up half the space, and the door shut with a heavy, airtight thud. He turned his head, pinning me with that dark, intense stare I’d spent hours typing out in my draft at two in the morning."So," he started, his voice deep and smooth, carrying that annoying, over-the-top gra

I sat there watching them go back and forth, eating a warm cinnamon roll Lana had brought in the bag. It was standard, practical best friend energy, and it was the only thing keeping me grounded in this chaotic, trope-filled nightmare. I had written Lana to be loyal, but seeing her square up to a billionaire red flag who could probably buy her entire bloodline was honestly inspiring.Cyrus glared at Lana, his eyes darkening as if he were trying to summon an ominous thunderstorm right inside the VIP suite.“Sir, those are signs of demonic possession.” I said and Lana laughed, shaking her head."Lana, he's just upset because his alpha routine isn't working on a girl in a hospital gown. Give him a second, he needs to go Google time management anyway."Cyrus turned back to me, his mouth setting into a thin, tight line. "I am surrounded by idiots," he muttered under his breath."Hey, I'm a travel agent, please sit down," I corrected him cheerfully, dabbing sugar off my lip with the napkin.

I woke up at 7:00 AM with my stomach protesting.After the 2:00 AM ramen tragedy, I had gone back to bed hungry, exhausted, and bruised from taking a literal bolt of atmospheric electricity to the ribs yesterday.I pulled on my jeans, threw on my tee, and walked back down the corridor toward the kitchen."Pancakes," I muttered to myself, ducking my head into his pantry. "Pancakes are basic. Milk, flour, eggs. You literally can't set butter on fire if you just pour batter into a warm pan."Ten minutes later, Cyrus’s pristine island looked like a bag of powdered flour had detonated at high velocity.There was white powder coating the stovetop, sticky yellow batter dripping down the backsplash, and a half-burnt, half-raw mess stuck firmly to the underside of his high-end copper range hood. I had tried to do a dramatic chef flip and the pancake had gained altitude, hit the ceiling vent, and refused to come back down.I was standing there in my socks, holding a stainless-steel spatula cove

Returning to my actual apartment felt like I was entering a sacred sanctuary.There was no dark glass, no sleek floors, no security cameras, and absolutely no brooding billionaire lurking around in dark sweatpants. Erin’s place was cozy, slightly cluttered, and smelled of lavender laundry detergent and cheap vanilla candles.Erin’s silver car was parked safely in her assigned space in the back lot. She didn't drive it to work , Aura Travel was only a ten-minute walk down the street, and me?I wasn’t that Erin. I preferred the exercise over fighting for street parking. But having a car sitting in the assigned spot was a grounding reminder that I was still an independent adult, even if the universe was actively trying to rewrite my life into a dark romance novel.By Saturday morning, I was feeling like a tactical genius.The convenience store victory proved my theory: the narrative engine was just a rigid, brainless code parser. It didn't care about emotional intensity, sexual tension,