The Extra Who Woke Up in the Princess's Secret Chamber

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

My vision flickered.

Cold rain poured down. My fingertips, plunged into the muddy water, wouldn't move. The sensation of the sword piercing my heart was unnaturally vivid.

It hurt. It hurt like mad.

And yet, I laughed.

In front of my fallen body, someone wailed. Probably one of the heroines. I couldn't see who. Rain and blood blurred my sight.

I mustered my last strength and twisted my lips.

"How pathetic ... crying like that."

That wasn't what I wanted to say.

Thank you for surviving. It's okay now. I'm sorry. Forget someone like me and be happy.

That's what I wanted to say.

But as always, what came out was garbage dialogue.

Yeah. That was fine. That was enough.

I'd lived in this godforsaken dark romance otome sim for ten years. Precisely, I'd lived to die.

Dragging the heroines' favorability to rock bottom.

Twisting their fated deaths onto myself instead.

Making sure they wouldn't remember me as their savior.

And dying like a villain in the final moments.

That was my role in this world. Leon Hart. The academy's doomed extra.

A sacrificial lamb to awaken the protagonist's party.

A side character no one loved, no one truly remembered.

But that was okay. Because if I died, I could go back.

Now, when I opened my eyes, I'd see the ceiling of my real-world studio apartment. The moldy wallpaper, the cheap fluorescent light, the cold convenience store lunchbox on the table.

I never thought I'd miss that shabby room so much.

'Yeah, hurry up and send me back.' I sighed in relief amid the darkness.

'That really hurt ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠too much.'

That was the moment.

The system window froze.

'Huh?'

My relieved mind went ice-cold.

'What?'

'Wait.'

The red warning filled my vision.

'This can't happen.'

I'd hidden things. Drinking poison in her place. Taking curses for them. Embracing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a demon sword's madness.

Times I'd been pushed to the brink of death, only surviving by exploiting a bug I knew from the game days.

It worked back when it was a game. Right before an event ended, under specific conditions, the death judgment delayed by a few seconds.

The infamous Death Judgment Delay Bug.

Thanks to it, I survived.

But the bug didn't erase the pain. The poison burning my heart. The curse scraping my bones from inside. The demon sword's voice drilling into my skull.

All of it lingered in my memory.

'No.'

'Don't do it.'

The next instant, sensation was yanked back into my body by force.

"Hah, huff!"

Air flooded my lungs. I spat out a breath and sat up, my upper body heaving.

My whole body was soaked in cold sweat. My heart pounded wildly, and my fingertips still trembled with the memory of death.

The first thing I noticed was the smell.

Not mold. Not the dusty stench of my cheap real-world room.

Rose scent. Thick, sweet, luxurious—suffocatingly so.

'...This isn't my apartment.'

I slowly scanned my surroundings.

The room was vast. Unnecessarily so. Blood-red carpet covered the floor. Deep velvet draped the walls. A dim chandelier hung from the ceiling.

The bed I'd been lying on was the kind fit for royalty.

No windows. Instead, one wall had a massive iron door, etched with intricate imperial crests and magical barriers.

A prison. Or something far worse.

I drew a short breath.

'The Princess's Secret Chamber.'

I moved my wrists. Good, not bound. Yet.

'Okay. Stay calm. Assess the situation first.'

I tried to get off the bed.

Then—

—Clank.

The door opened. The heavy iron swung inward, dim corridor light spilling into the room.

And silhouetted against that light, a woman stepped in.

I knew that face. How could I not?

Arielra von Esterria. The empire's princess. Academy student council president. The first main heroine of the original story.

Her golden hair flowed flawlessly over her shoulders. Her blue eyes were gem-like and cold. Her dark red dress bore the imperial crest embroidered in gold thread: the empire's sun.

The nickname wasn't exaggeration. That's who she was. Unshakable before anyone, showing no weakness. Born to command.

But this Arielra was off. Her chin trembled faintly. Her lips were pressed tight, but her breathing was uneven.

The contempt I knew wasn't in her eyes. Instead, something else lurked. Hunger. Rage. Guilt.

And the damp, wretched obsession of the abandoned.

'Why is she like this?'

Cold sweat trickled down my spine.

'Shouldn't she hate me?'

She was supposed to hate me. I'd made it that way.

To twist her fated poisoning, I'd drunk the cup instead. Nearly died.

Yet I'd insulted her to the end. Mocking if a princess couldn't tell a poisoned cup. If she was nothing without her crown.

Those words made her hate me. They had to.

But those eyes now couldn't be explained by hate alone.

'Talk first. Politely. As politely as possible.'

I opened my mouth. What I meant to say was this:

'Your Highness, what is the meaning of this? Release me.'

But a familiar system window popped up in the corner of my vision.

'Oh no.'

We're screwed.

"For a princess's hobby, it's rather vulgar."

My lips moved on their own. Cold, arrogant, condescending tone. My voice, but not my will.

"Locking people in places like this. Not befitting the crown's owner, is it?"

I screamed internally.

'Shut that mouth, please!'

Why say that now? My head could fly any second.

Arielra was the princess. I was an extra. To her, a trashy guy who'd toyed with and insulted her.

Yet Arielra didn't rage. Didn't call guards. Didn't slap me.

She just approached slowly.

Swish.

Her dress hem brushed the carpet, the sound echoing unnaturally loud.

She stopped by the bed. Looked down at me.

"You."

Her voice was low.

"Always like this."

I stayed silent. Had no choice.

Arielra leaned down. Dazzling blonde hair spilled forward over her shoulders. Her face drew near.

Her blue eyes peered into mine. So close our breaths mingled.

"Leon Hart."

She said my name. Different from before. No disgust now. Something stickier than hate.

"You've never once spoken your true heart to me."

"What nonsense ..."

"Can't a princess tell a poisoned cup?"

My breath caught.

Those words from her lips—ones I'd said long ago.

"Nothing without your crown, huh."

My fingertips went cold.

'Why bring that up now?'

Arielra slowly raised her hand. Her fingers pointed into the air, and the room's darkness split.

Black light bloomed. First like smoke. Then it took form.

A stone slab. Jet-black, floating in the air. Its surface swallowed light, familiar system text glowing atop it.

My heart sank.

The Black Record Slate. The patch the system mentioned.

My hidden logs, now manifesting before my eyes.

"After the ending."

Arielra spoke. Her voice calm. Dangerously so.

"A black monolith fell over the imperial palace."

"At first, only I could see it. The imperial mages couldn't decipher it. The priests couldn't approach."

"But the moment I touched it, this record opened."

Scenes played on the black slab. Long ago, in the palace banquet hall. Arielra holding a golden cup. Me approaching, snatching it.

Drinking the wine inside with a casual face.

On-screen me staggered soon after. Blood trickled from my lips. Fingertips shook. Knees nearly buckled.

Yet I smiled.

'Stop.'

The slab didn't. On-screen, I swallowed blood and said to Arielra,

"Can't a princess tell a poisoned cup?"

That Arielra had been furious. Rightly so. Pure mockery.

But below on the black slate, other text appeared.

Arielra's hand shook.

"I."

She whispered.

"Wanted to kill you that day."

I couldn't respond.

"Really wanted to. Because I thought you were a man who dared insult me. Who trampled my pride, mocked my incompetence."

A tear fell from her blue eyes. One drop. Hot on the back of my hand.

"But no."

Arielra gripped my chin. Her fingertips burned. A princess's hands should be cool. But hers were feverish.

"You were dying."

Her nails dug into my skin.

"Dying, yet insulting me. To make me hate you. So I wouldn't feel guilt. So I could live on oblivious."

'No.' I thought.

'It wasn't that noble.'

Truth was, I was scared. Those 11 seconds as poison spread, I didn't want to die. Lungs burning, heart crushed—it terrified me to madness.

But I endured. Better than Arielra dying.

That was all.

Yet I couldn't say it.

'Don't.'

"Quite the imagination, Your Highness."

My lips moved on their own. Voice calmly ruthless.

"I merely took the most efficient path. Seeing you add meaning and mope is quite amusing."

The words ended. Despair crashed in.

Done. Truly done. Even with the slate, she'd snap back to rage now.

Arielra was the princess. She wouldn't tolerate insults.

But.

"Hah."

Arielra laughed. Low, short, wet.

Chills ran through me.

She didn't release my chin. Leaned closer.

"Again."

She said.

"Acting like that again."

"......"

"You're still trying to push me away."

No. I just wanted to live. To leave. Back to reality. Far from this princess with terrifying eyes.

But to Arielra, it looked different.

She saw pain I hid in my cold words.

Or believed she already had.

"Fine."

Arielra slowly straightened.

"Keep saying it. Keep insulting me, pushing me away, pretending it doesn't matter."

She snapped her fingers.

Clank.

A heavy sound from the door. I turned.

Blue barriers layered over the massive iron door. One. Two. Three. The imperial crest glowed.

Seals to block escape.

"Arielra."

Her name slipped out unbidden. Thankfully, no distortion this time.

Arielra froze briefly at the sound. Her shoulders trembled.

"......Don't call me that."

She said. Voice low.

"Makes me want to run."

"Open the door."

My intent matched the output. Short, dry command.

Yet Arielra laughed at that too.

"No."

She turned back. Tear-streaked face, smiling strangely beautiful—as a princess.

"You're my prisoner, Leon."

Breath caught.

"I don't care if you hate me. Lie to me forever. But."

Her eyes deepened. Too painful for love, too tenacious for hate.

"You won't vanish from my sight again."

Clank.

The final seal locked.

Not just a door. Like chains around my neck.

Arielra looked back at the black slate. Past me vomiting blood still played.

Dying yet mocking her.

She caressed the scene with her fingertips.

"Couldn't see it all."

She said.

"But I know one thing."

"......"

"You're far crueler than I thought."

She smiled. But cried.

"You saved me, then made me hate you."

Arielra walked to the door. Before it opened, she glanced back.

"Rest, my Leon."

My. The word chilled my spine.

"I'll come again tomorrow."

The door shut. Darkness returned.

I was alone on the bed. Door locked, barriers complete. No windows.

I stared at the ceiling.

Thought the ending was over.

But no.

The hate I'd built to save them had twisted into guilt, corrupting them.

And that corrupted emotion became the sturdiest cage imprisoning me.

"......I'm gonna lose it, for real."

Then.

The system window I'd thought gone flickered back in the dark.

I held my breath.

And saw the final line.

'......'

Immeasurable?

I stared at the text for a long time.

But the system didn't stop.

A new window appeared.

My fingertips chilled.

This couldn't happen. This record absolutely couldn't be exposed.

That I hadn't nearly died just once. But multiple times on death's edge.

That the pain never faded each time.

They couldn't know. Especially not Arielra now.

Yet the Black Record Slate had only opened its first page.

I stared blankly at the text.

The secret chamber was silent. No sounds from beyond the door.

Yet somehow, something vaster than this room slowly closed in on me.

I muttered weakly.

"......We're totally screwed."