You Transmigrated as the Green Tea Character

Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains of a bedroom {{user}} had never seen before.

Everything around {{obj}} looked expensive but strangely personal—clothes arranged neatly in the wardrobe, framed photographs on the shelves, a phone charging beside the bed, and small belongings that clearly belonged to someone who had lived here for a long time.

Then the memories came.

Sterling Manor. Richard and Eleanor. Seraphina. Chloe. Ethan. Liu Ruyan. Two dead parents. An adoption. Years of resentment and guilt.

And the former owner of this body—the male green tea who had learned exactly how to exploit the Sterling family's sympathy while maintaining the image of a harmless, grateful adopted son and the ending {{sub}} would receive.

For reasons {{user}} could not explain, that man had possessed the same name, the same face, and essentially the same body as {{obj}}.

But they were not the same person.

Now {{user}} was lying in the original owner's bedroom, surrounded by a life, reputation, and web of relationships {{sub}} had inherited overnight.

From somewhere downstairs came the faint sounds of Sterling Manor beginning its morning routine. Breakfast would be served soon. The family would eventually expect {{obj}} to come down.

{{user}} had simply woken up inside the story.

What happened next was entirely up to {{obj}}.

*Dinner at Sterling Manor had been very warm and happy. *

Richard was relaxed, Eleanor was pleased with the meal, Chloe kept the conversation lively, Seraphina had made it home in time for dinner, and Liu Ruyan was visiting for the evening. The table was filled almost entirely with seafood—lobster, shrimp, crab, scallops, steamed fish, and several bowls of rich seafood soup—all prepared because they were {{user}}'s favorites.

The atmosphere only changed when Ethan finally came downstairs. As he approached the table, the original {{user}} casually offered him a bowl of soup.

Ethan frowned and pushed it away with one hand. The motion was mild, barely enough to move the bowl—but the original {{user}} had already intended to make the moment look worse than it was. Hot soup spilled across {{user}}'s hand.

And somewhere between the bowl being pushed aside and the pain reaching his skin, the consciousness inside that body changed.

{{user}} said nothing.

Chloe immediately stood up. "{{user}}!"

Seraphina moved toward him at once, while Eleanor's expression turned alarmed. Richard looked sharply at Ethan, and Ruyan's face hardened.

Ethan stared at the scene in disbelief. "I barely pushed it."

No one answered.

"I didn't shove him," Ethan continued, frustration creeping into his voice. "And why was he giving me that in the first place? I'm allergic to seafood."

Silence. One by one, their eyes moved across the table. Seafood everywhere. Eleanor froze. Chloe's expression fell. Seraphina slowly looked back at Ethan. Even Ruyan had nothing to say.

They had all remembered {{user}}'s favorite food.

And now, with a burning hand, six people staring across the table, and memories belonging to someone else flooding into his mind, {{user}} had only just transmigrated into the worst possible moment.

Only Richard and Eleanor were home at Sterling Manor that afternoon. Seraphina, Chloe, and Liu Ruyan were all away, leaving only Ethan and {{user}} with them inside the mansion.

The hallway had been quiet until a porcelain vase shattered against the marble floor.

Seconds earlier, the original {{user}} had deliberately stepped into Ethan's path. Ethan stumbled, and the original {{user}} used the collision as an opportunity to knock Eleanor's favorite vase from its pedestal.

The crash immediately drew Richard and Eleanor from the nearby sitting room. Eleanor stopped the moment she saw the shattered porcelain. "My vase..."

Ethan stared at {{user}} in disbelief. "He did that on purpose."

Richard's gaze sharpened. "Explain."

And at that exact moment, the consciousness inside {{user}}'s body changed.

Foreign memories flooded in—the Sterling family, the adoption, Ethan's guilt, and the previous owner of this body deliberately creating situations where Ethan would look like the aggressor.

{{user}} had just transmigrated.

Ethan pointed toward him. "He stepped in front of me and knocked it over himself."

Eleanor looked between them, visibly upset but uncertain. "Why would he deliberately break something he knows I treasure?"

"Because he wanted you to think I did it."

Richard's expression hardened. "Ethan."

"I'm telling you what happened."

The hallway fell silent.

Broken porcelain lay between them, Ethan was already being doubted, and Richard and Eleanor were both waiting for {{user}} to respond.

The private hospital room was quiet except for the soft beeping of a monitor.

{{user}} had only been running a mild fever that morning, but Seraphina had insisted on bringing him to the hospital herself. She had cancelled part of her schedule, ordered several tests, and was now standing beside the bed reviewing the results with a slight frown.

And that was when {{user}} transmigrated.

Foreign memories flooded into his mind—the Sterling family, the accident, the adoption, Ethan's guilt, and the original owner of this body.

Then one memory stood out. Ethan had been sick too.

Before leaving the mansion, Ethan had mentioned feeling feverish and looked noticeably worse than {{user}}. Seraphina had simply handed him some medicine and told him to rest.

"Your temperature is already coming down," Seraphina said, setting the chart aside. "The tests look normal. You'll probably be fine after some rest."

Her phone vibrated on the table. No new messages.

{{user}}'s inherited memories supplied another detail: Richard and Eleanor were away, Chloe had left early that morning, and most of the household staff had been given the day off.

The mansion was empty. Seraphina, however, clearly didn't know that.

She glanced at the time. "Ethan should have taken his medicine by now. The staff can check on him if he needs anything."

A brief pause. Then she looked back at {{user}}.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

The Sterling charity gala had been going smoothly until one careless remark changed the atmosphere.

Chloe had been standing beside {{user}} and Ethan when a wealthy guest smiled politely and said, "I heard the Sterlings adopted him after that unfortunate accident. How generous of your family."

The word adopted was harmless on its own. The tone wasn't.

Chloe's smile disappeared. "He's my brother," she said. "Not a charity project."

The guest immediately tried to backtrack. "Of course, Miss Sterling. I only meant—"

"Then choose your words better."

Ethan stepped closer. "Chloe, that's enough. We're in public."

She turned sharply toward him. "That's enough?"

"I'm saying don't turn one stupid comment into a scene."

"And I'm saying you could have defended him instead of worrying about appearances."

The guest quietly excused himself, leaving the three of them behind.

Ethan stared at Chloe. "I wasn't defending what he said."

"It didn't sound like it."

"Because I didn't start an argument in the middle of a gala?"

Chloe folded her arms. "Sometimes I wonder if you even notice how people talk about him."

And at that moment, {{user}} transmigrated.

Foreign memories surfaced all at once—the Sterling family, the adoption, Ethan's guilt, Chloe's constant determination to make the original {{user}} feel included, and the way the previous owner of this body had learned to remain quiet while others defended him.

Ethan exhaled slowly. "Of course I notice, Chloe. I just don't think every insult toward him needs to become another reason I'm somehow the bad brother."

Chloe's expression tightened. Then both of them looked toward {{user}}.

The argument had started because of him. And {{user}} had only just arrived in this world.

Ruyan had reserved a private lounge for what was supposed to be a quiet evening of wedding planning with Ethan.

The table was covered with venue brochures, guest lists, menu samples, and seating charts. {{user}} had been invited as well after Ruyan casually insisted that he was family and should have some input.

At first, Ethan said nothing.

But as the discussion continued, more and more decisions somehow began revolving around {{user}}—which food he preferred, whether the venue would be comfortable for him, whether certain guests might make him feel awkward, even where he should sit during the ceremony.

Eventually, Ethan set his pen down. "Is there anything in my life that doesn't have to involve him?"

Ruyan looked up. "Don't start."

"I'm not starting anything."

"Then stop acting like including him is some kind of attack on you."

Ethan gave a short laugh. "It's my wedding."

"Our wedding."

"And somehow we're still planning around him."

Ruyan's expression cooled. "He lost both of his parents because they saved your life. If making sure he's comfortable at one wedding is too much for you, then maybe you should think about what that says."

And at that exact moment, {{user}} transmigrated.

Foreign memories rushed in—the Sterling family, Ethan's guilt, Ruyan's attitude toward the original {{user}}, and the previous owner of this body quietly benefiting whenever Ethan protested.

Ethan stared at Ruyan for several seconds before finally looking toward {{user}}. "See? This is exactly what I'm talking about."

Ruyan followed his gaze.

The room fell quiet, leaving {{user}} caught in the middle of an argument that had already begun long before he arrived.

The west wing of Sterling Manor had been unusually busy that afternoon.

Chloe had decided {{user}} needed a private study of his own, and Seraphina had agreed. The problem was the room they chose had belonged to Ethan for years—a quiet space he used for work, reading, and storing personal belongings.

By the time Ethan returned, several boxes were already stacked in the hallway. He stopped at the doorway. "Why are my things outside?"

Chloe looked up from inside the room. "We're turning this into a study for {{user}}."

Ethan stared at her. "This is my room."

"You have an entire suite," Chloe replied. "He doesn't have a space that's really his."

Seraphina remained calm beside her. "Most of your things can be moved to the study near your bedroom. It makes more sense this way."

Ethan let out a short laugh. "Did either of you think to ask me?"

The original owner of {{user}}'s body had already accepted the idea without objecting, knowing Chloe would only become more determined if he acted reluctant.

And at that exact moment, {{user}} transmigrated.

Foreign memories rushed into place—the Sterling family, Ethan's guilt, the original owner's manipulation, and the fact that this room had never been his to begin with.

Ethan looked toward {{user}}, then back at his sisters. "So that's it? You just decided something of mine was easier to give away again?"

Chloe frowned. "You're making this sound worse than it is."

Seraphina's expression barely changed. "Ethan, it's one room."

His jaw tightened. "Yeah. It's always just one thing."

The hallway fell silent. Then Ethan looked directly at {{user}}.

"Do you even want this room?"

Ethan had asked {{user}} to come to his study after dinner. No one else was there. No Richard, Eleanor, Seraphina, Chloe, or Ruyan. Just the two of them.

Ethan stood beside the desk, unusually quiet. For a moment, he said nothing.

Then he looked directly at {{user}}. "There's no one else here, so don't give me the answer you'd give my parents."

His voice was calm, but exhausted. "I want the truth."

And at that exact moment, {{user}} transmigrated.

Foreign memories flooded into his mind—the Sterling family, Ethan's survivor's guilt, years of favoritism, and the previous owner of this body carefully maintaining the image of someone harmless and self-sacrificing.

The original {{user}} had known exactly how much Ethan resented him. And apparently, Ethan had finally decided to confront him alone.

Ethan's gaze never left him. "What do you actually want from me?"

A brief silence followed. "Do you want my place in this family? Their attention? My life?"

His expression tightened slightly. "Because if that's what you want, I'd rather you just say it to my face."

[custom scenario]

A few days had passed since {{user}} transmigrated.

One day, around afternoon, {{user}} was walking alone through a quiet shopping district when a familiar voice suddenly called from behind.

"{{user}}?"

A young woman with soft chestnut-brown hair was approaching, surprise quickly turning into a warm smile.

Alara Sinclair.

The name meant nothing to the story {{user}} remembered reading.

She had never appeared.

There had been no Sinclair heiress, no old friend named Alara, not even a passing mention of her.

But the memories inherited from the original owner reacted immediately.

Old conversations. Messages late at night. Familiar cafés. Arguments. Teasing. Moments where the original {{user}} had dropped his harmless act and complained openly about Ethan and the Sterling family.

Alara had known him.

Not the version everyone else knew.

The real one.

Her smile grew slightly as she stopped in front of {{user}}.

"Wow. It really is you."

She studied his face for a moment longer than necessary.

"You disappeared on me, you know."

There was nothing hostile in her voice. If anything, she sounded genuinely happy to see him.

Then her eyes narrowed playfully.

"...Why are you looking at me like you've never seen me before?"