I Fell into a Korean Drama Chapter 10

Cousin Hao’s toast hung in the air like a sword. Wine pooled ruby-red in the glasses; laughter bubbled down the table, brittle and watchful.

I hadn’t raised mine yet. The ASP glowed faintly at the corner of my vision.

[Prompt Available]

Negative: Decline the toast, call out the insult.
Neutral: Accept quietly, say little.
Positive: Accept with a gracious sentiment about family.

My hand stayed on the stem. I thought about every soap opera toast where the family hyena sets up the weakest member. Ling Wang—the man whose shoes I was wearing—was supposed to be that guy. The placeholder. The punchline.

I lifted the glass and smiled. Neutral. “To family.”

The wine was smooth, almost sweet. Hao’s eyes narrowed, just a fraction.

[Neutral Selected]
[System Points +10 | Face: Preserved]

Conversation shifted back to stocks and shipments, but I could feel Hao watching me like a hawk circling a mouse that hadn’t gotten the memo.

That’s when Lin Xia finally decided to make her move.

She dabbed at her lips with a napkin, the motion delicate, deliberate. Then she turned her chair slightly toward me, a faint sigh in her throat that somehow managed to quiet the table.

“Ling Wang,” she said, voice pitched just high enough to carry, “you’ve done well to… hold a seat in this family these past years. But things change.”

There it was. The setup line.

My stomach flipped, but my face stayed calm. I waited for the other foot to drop. She seemed to be waiting for me. I took another sip of the wine.

Man, it was good. But also early. Here’s to day drinking, I guess.

I looked back at her and raised an eyebrow a fraction of an inch.

That seemed to unnerve her. Oh, how fun.

“You’re not going to ask?” she said.

I shrugged. “I thought it was pretty obvious what you were saying.”

The ASP pulsed again, faint and insistent.

[Prompt Available – Deviation allowed for separate response]

Negative: Protest, accuse her of betrayal.
Neutral: Express confusion, ask for clarification.
Positive: Accept with humility, remain silent.

PICK YOUR OWN RESPONSE

Lin Xia’s gaze lingered. Clearly, she’d been expecting the Neutral path: stammering questions, then confusion and probably embarrassment. The perfect beat for her to twist the knife in front of everyone.

My apparent understanding threw her off. I tilted my head once more, smiled faintly, and went with none of the above.

“Oh no,” I said, tone dry and nonchalant. “You’ve broken my heart. Oh, how could you do this to me? It hurts. It hurts.”

The people gawked at my deadpan delivery.

“What do you say, Lin Xia—shall we file for divorce this afternoon, then? Might as well save everyone the suspense.”

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.

Hao actually choked on his wine. One of the aunts gave a scandalized little cough. Madam Li’s chopsticks froze in midair.

Lin Xia blinked at me like I’d just spoken Martian. This wasn’t how placeholders were supposed to behave. Placeholders begged. They sulked. They clung to the scraps of face their wives tossed them.

Not… this.

The ASP flickered, text scrolling across like a suppressed laugh.

[Off-Track Input Detected. Loyalty –5]
[Reward Path: Unlocked – Divergent Route Potential]

Lin Xia recovered quickly—she was still a Li, after all—but there was a new edge in her voice. “So eager, are you? You’ve been content to play at being my husband for five years. And now you think you can just walk away?”

I swirled what was left of my wine and leaned back, calm as a yoga instructor. “Lin Xia, playing husband hasn’t been that bad of a gig—at least not for me. I got to eat your food, sleep in your bed, spend your money, and only had to take care of the house. Besides, you’re getting older. I could use an upgrade.”

Another sharp intake of breath rippled around the table. The aunts were practically vibrating with gossip potential.

Lin Xia’s jaw tightened, but she forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You think this is a joke? And did you just call me old?”

“I called you older, not old. Though I guess you are getting up there,” I said smoothly. “And I would never joke about something so serious. A joke is supposed to make people laugh.”

I gestured toward the table. “They don’t look like they’re laughing.”

Even the Chairman’s lips twitched—just once, but enough to make Xia’s composure wobble.

The ASP pinged again.

[Prompt Available]

Negative: Escalate. Insult her directly.
Neutral: Back off with humor.
Positive: Apologize, take responsibility.

This time I didn’t pick at all. I let the moment breathe. Let her twist in the silence she’d meant for me.

Finally, Chairman Li cleared his throat. The sound was quiet, but it carried like thunder. “Enough,” he said. His gaze landed on Xia, not me. “The breakfast table is not a stage. If you have matters to resolve, resolve them in private.”

Lin Xia bowed her head, murmuring, “Yes, Father.” But her knuckles were white on the napkin.

She wasn’t done with me. Not by a long shot.

But Cousin Hao was the one who leaned in to talk.

“That was clever,” he murmured. “But clever men in this family don’t last long.”

I smiled back, all teeth. “Are you saying that stupid men prevail?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but then just closed it again. I rolled my eyes.

This guy’s an idiot. Did the author really write him to be this dumb?

[Improvisation Logged | Affinity Shift: Hao –1]

Only minus one? Really?

[Loyalty to Plotline: 44%]
[Warning: Divergence increases volatility. Rewards uncertain.]

I shoved my hands into my pockets, shoulders loose, and whispered under my breath, “Volatile’s fine. I’ve been worse.”

Max wasn’t here to bark agreement. But I could almost hear him anyway.