Until The Tragic Male Lead Walks Again Novels & Stories

I watched her expression shift from surprise to joy as I continued, "But I will never forgive you. Not now, not ever." I continued watching as her face slowly turned pale. Then, her spirit gradually faded away. "Dad," I whispered. Then, the spirit that had hidden away cautiously appeared. I looked into his hopeful eyes and said, "Thank you for what you did, but it's too late." I shook my head. "Let's not meet again." With that, I began to drift away. Everything was finally over. I felt a lightness in my body as the heavy stone on my chest vanished. The chains around me broke free. I could feel the warmth of the sun and felt the gentle breeze of the wind.

*** This scene was when the male lead killed someone dear to the female lead because they were demons, but she did not know about that, and he did not want to hurt her by telling her. As Juilliano, who was playing the part of Jason, the male lead, stood there in silence, already in silence, a sombre mood overtook my whole being. I took slow steps towards him after looking at the imaginary dead body by my left-hand side. With shivering hands but no expression on my face, I walked to him, and as I stood in front of him, I hit. I kept on hitting him and hitting him while he stood there in silence. But the more I hit him, the more tears slid down my face, and the more my shoulders shook. I looke

It was the original Jacob. He stood there quietly, looking at me. "Hello. I'm Jacob. I've been watching from the sidelines this whole time. Only now do I realize that I could've lived like this too." Looking at the confusion and regret in his eyes, I smiled softly. "Jacob, other people might hand you a script, but the path you walk is yours alone." I could feel the call of my original world pulling me back, so I returned Jacob's body to him. Right before I completely disappeared, I patted his shoulder and gave him one final piece of advice.

“Did you buy out the entire place for privacy?” He shrugged. “I guess so.” “You’re the best,” I said softly, leaning in to kiss his cheek. The theater dimmed, and the movie started. Then came the scene where the female lead stayed out in the sun because of the male lead. She became gravely ill, and the male lead learned that she would be dying pretty soon. Tears welled up in my eyes as I turned to Noah. “Noah…” I whispered, my voice trembling. He glanced over. “Hey, it’s okay.” He murmured, placing his hand on my lap. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips.

“He’s not your martyr. Not your fucking legacy. He’s—” “Alive,” Natalie cut in, standing up from beside Leo. “And you’re acting like he’s already gone.” Silence. Tristan’s breath seeped in and out, eyes locked on Myles’ still face. When he spoke again, it was a raw whisper. “You don’t get it. If I walk out that door… he’ll slip. I can’t—I can’t lose him twice.” The confession hung, ugly and naked. Natalie’s resolve faltered. Leo looked away.

They talked. They cried. They forgave. They loved. The rain kept falling. But inside the house, something shifted. Not healing. Not yet. But hope. Small. Fragile. Real. Elena looked at her children. She looked at the rain outside. She looked at the future. And she knew. The tragedy was not over. The pain was not over. The secrets were not over. But they were still here. Together. Breathing. Loving. Fighting. Living.

I knew logically that it was just the writer's twisted imagination on a screen, but my heart broke thinking that there were probably people actually going through this kind of grief in real life. The lover had tragically died in search of the male lead's corpse after there was news of death at the war front. Unknowing the male lead was alive when the male lead had gotten back home, he found the house empty and the handwritten letter. And he went back to see the corpse of his lover, and the male lead killed himself also out of grief. Singing in another life, they should be born in a world free of war and death. Who the fuck wrote a tragedy movie like this?!

"Cripple her." The words left my lips, devoid of heat, devoid of pity. They were a simple, cold fact. "The hand she used to sign my mother's death warrant. The hand she used to call our enemies. Break them. Both." Scarlett's face bleached of all color. "No! Isabella, please! We can make a deal—" POP. The sound was small, almost surgical. Marco's shot was precise. It didn't sever her hand, it shattered the bones within it.

He accidentally pulled off the silk scarf around my neck to reveal the unmistakable hickeys trailing down my neck. "Opal..." Snatching the scarf from his hands, I scoffed. "Crazy guy." But Eugene wasn’t ready to give up. He looked at me with a desperate intensity. "Opal, I truly regret everything. I know I was wrong. I’ll do anything if you can just forgive me." I let out a cold laugh, stepping closer to him and lowering my voice so only he could hear. "Regret what? Regret the way you treated me in our last life? Haven’t you learned by now that a love confessed too late is worth less than dirt?"

"If this works, he will know. If it does not, no one needs to watch me lose hope in front of them again." He studied me for a long moment, the kind of look that measured resolve rather than pity. "Then let us get started." By the time I wheeled myself back out to the curb, my chest felt too full for my body, hope pressing against my ribs in a way that almost hurt. I called the driver the way I had promised, and the whole ride home, one question kept circling underneath all that joy. How was I supposed to do this without Adrian ever finding out? I found the boys in the playroom when I got home, Elias building something out of blocks with fierce concentration. He looked up and wrinkled his nos