Blurb：
Transmigrated into a mafia novel as "all-talk" protagonist Finnian Shaw, 19-year-old dropout Blondie faces gang beatings and backstabbers in the Ramsey Syndicate. To survive ruthless leader Dante Ramsey's icy reign, Finn masters *The Art of the Suck-Up* - midnight snacks, Gatling gun decoys, and taking knives to the lung for his boss. But when Dante's sister Carys Ramsey returns with elegant heiress Audra Devereux, Finn discovers lethal twists: the System's "straight romance" lies, gay bullet comments predicting cage play, and Dante's hands creeping under his stolen suit. Can this reformed street rat out-simp a paranoid mafia kingpin's obsession?
Content：
§PROLOGUEThe alley reeked of stale beer and desperation—my desperation.
My name is Finnian Shaw, and I was about to get my ass kicked for the third time this week.
Look at the little Blondie, Marco sneered, his spit hitting the grimy asphalt near my worn-out sneakers.
Think you're special 'cause the boss picked you up?
I was special, alright.
Specially screwed.
I had transmigrated into a mafia novel.
Good news: I was the male lead.
Bad news: The lead was a nineteen-year-old dropout who was all talk, no game.
This was the guy the big boss, Dante Ramsey, had personally plucked from the gutter because of some drunken boasts.
But inside the Ramsey Syndicate, jealousy was a sharper weapon than any switchblade.
And Dante, seeing I was just a weakling who could talk big, couldn't be bothered to save me.
The original novel said this would go on for three miserable years.
A horrifying start.
I’d asked the System for an escape route.
It rewarded me with a disciplinary electric shock.
[Dante Ramsey is the female lead's brother. Host must wait for her return to be rescued.]
I was losing my mind.
"How long until she gets back?"
[The young miss was sent to study in Germany. This is her third year.]
I could die before she even booked a flight.
§01
The System, probably fearing my immediate suicide, offered a lifeline.
[The most powerful man in Sovereign Sound is Dante Ramsey. If you don't want to be bullied, Host, you should just suck up to him.]
It then helpfully provided a digital copy of *The Art of the Suck-Up*.
Me? Finnian Shaw? In my entire life, I’d always been the one people chased... but what did that matter now?
My past life’s pride was useless.
Survival was everything.
After cramming two thousand rules of sycophancy, I felt invincible.
I tried everything: late-night snacks for his overtime sessions, his favorite coffee first thing in the morning, being his personal cheerleader during turf wars... but Dante remained unmoved.
His face was a permanent mask of cold indifference.
He’d look at me like I was a clown performing a sad little show, and on bad days, he'd spit out a single word: "Get out."
Then Marco and his crew would laugh, drag me to the cornfield behind the training grounds, and beat the hell out of me.
Some nights, I had to fight a Mastiff for leftovers.
Gnawing on a bone the dog, Brutus, had generously spared, I'd stare at the moon, tears welling in my eyes.
The Dante of the novel was pathologically suspicious and cold.
The only person he cared about was his sister, Carys.
But even then, he’d shipped his beloved sister overseas for years.
Winning over a man like that felt impossible.
But I was a professional suck-up.
I kept at it.
Lick boots, get beaten, lick boots, get beaten, lick...
Maybe even God took pity on me.
Because one dark and stormy night... my chance finally came.
§02
That night, Dante had a clash with a rival gang.
They’d insulted Carys.
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The End