Survival Game in an Angsty Novel

I accidentally transmigrated into a bunch of old-school dog-blood tragedy stories. I am the villain, the canary, the tragic cannon fodder who is tortured by the protagonist to the point of death. My goal is simply to survive until the ending. But there’s always a protagonist trying to take my kidney. For example, the cold and aloof CEO in front of me, who, in order to save the “white moonlight” in his heart, is pinning me to the wall, frowning as he asks: “Can you donate a kidney to him?” I: “……” I: “I can donate my appendix.” “It’s inflamed anyway.” This story is also known as “The Salted Fish’s Winning Strategy” and “Those Years I Was Recklessly Self-Sabotaging in Tragedy Novels.” ...