The Extra's Emergency Stash

Behind me, the imperial palace's alarm bells were tolling. Dong. Dong. Dong. The commotion that had started in the princess's private annex was spreading throughout the entire palace.

I slipped through the rose bushes and hid myself toward the low colonnade. The tall garden trees were blocking the line of sight for now, but it wouldn't last long. Arielra wouldn't let me get away. She was the princess. She could mobilize the knight order, manipulate the palace barriers, and if necessary, seal off the entire palace. I was just an extra. A wounded extra. A shackled extra. A fleeing extra. My chances were slim.

But it's not zero.

I looked down at the restraint on my right wrist. The silver metal surface bore the faintly glowing sun emblem. The imperial symbol. The thing they'd clamped on me to bind me. And at the same time, the authentication mark that let me pass some of the palace's internal security measures. Arielra had fastened the restraint to keep me locked away. Yet that same restraint had gotten me out of the princess's secret chamber.

The system really is weak to wordplay.

I caught my breath. A system window lingered in the corner of my vision.

Good. Still okay. Not because I wasn't scared. I was terrified out of my mind. If I turned around right now, I'd probably see Arielra with her golden hair flying, standing there searching for me. Those blue gem-like eyes, her face twisted in tears and laughter, saying, "Come back." And I'd waver again. So I didn't look back. I couldn't show fear. The more afraid I got, the stronger the cage became. Because of that damned Effect 2, I didn't even have the freedom to be scared while running.

"This is so unfair," I muttered under my breath.

I nearly stopped in my tracks. "..."

That counts too? I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠clamped my lips shut. No more talking to myself. What a flawless imprisonment system.

I headed toward the broken statue at the edge of the garden. Princess's private annex, west garden. Broken angel statue. Rose vines beneath the statue. In the game, it was just background set dressing no one paid attention to. At first, I didn't know either. But the hardcore players grinding the hellish difficulty hidden routes discovered it. Inspecting the statue's pedestal under specific conditions opens a hidden underground storeroom.

The conditions were simple. Infuriatingly simple. Reach the true ending as a scapegoat extra. In other words, a reward you could only claim after dying in the original story. The devs were real sadists.

What good is a reward to a dead man?

But things were different now. I hadn't died. Log out had failed too. So I had to claim what was mine.

I reached the statue. The angel was half crumbling. One wing broken, its face eroded by time into a blur. Rose vines tangled below it. In the game, you'd just hit the interact key. In reality?

I placed my shackled right hand on the pedestal. My palm touched the cold stone surface. Nothing happened.

"..."

Right, no muttering. I cursed inwardly. I recalled the details. It wasn't just inspecting. There was dialogue. The exact phrase. The password to open the hidden achievement reward window. I drew a shallow breath. I had to speak. The problem was the voice log going straight to Arielra. But no choice. I had to risk it. I whispered low.

"To the one no one remembers, what remains."

The pedestal hummed faintly. Rumble. The earth split beneath the rose vines, revealing a small underground staircase.

Perfect. Really perfect. For once, the system window felt welcoming. I hurried down the stairs.

The underground storeroom was small. Low ceiling, walls lit by faint old magic lanterns. Dusty, but no moldy smell. It felt like the system had just reconstituted the space itself. In the center sat a weathered wooden chest. It looked like a real treasure chest—suspiciously so. I stood before it. Touching it brought up a window.

I nodded. The chest creaked open. Inside were unimpressive items. Three worn coins with a black sheen. A dusty gray cloak. A small leather pouch. A cracked glass vial. And a battered ID token. Windows popped up one by one.

I stared at them for a long while. 12 gold coins. Minor recovery potion. Worn cloak.

"..."

Speaking sends it to Arielra. So I muttered internally. Saving the world and this is the reward? Less than a night shift at a convenience store.

Still, it was good. Sincerely good. What I needed wasn't a holy sword, grand magic, or a dragon heart. Just a bit more means to escape. That was enough.

I picked up the minor recovery potion first.

Sufficient. I uncorked it and downed it in one gulp. The taste was awful—like chewing rusty coins and rotten herbs. But it worked. The pain in my left shoulder eased a bit. Not fully healed, but I could move my arm now.

"Hoo."

I exhaled. Shit. A window popped up.

I shut my mouth. Imagining Arielra hearing even that sigh made my head spin. Do I have to breathe carefully too?

Next, the Coins of Oblivion. The black coins were about two finger-widths across. Their surface bore a faceless figure. Same on both sides.

I read the description and grimaced. Blurs recent memories. Bad tradeoff. But no options now. The princess's restraint was signaling my position. The saintess's record slate tracked me via the black stigmata. The imperial knights were hunting physically. Three minutes was precious. Precious.

Last, the Extra's Worn Cloak. I unfurled the gray cloak. It looked ragged. Hole-ridden, faded, frayed edges. Something even a street bum would frown at. But the system description differed.

I swallowed a sigh at the last line. Useless against Arielra. Probably the saintess too. But it would work on knights, maids, regular soldiers. That was enough. I draped the cloak over myself. A faint gray aura settled over my body. I didn't vanish. But I felt more blended into the background. Unnoticed. Unmemorable. Very extra-like.

Finally, the Nameless ID Token.

Rohan. Not bad. Way safer than Leon Hart. I tucked the token inside my clothes. That's when footsteps echoed from above the storeroom. The knight order. Faster than expected. A window appeared.

No time. I gripped one Coin of Oblivion. "Use."

This would go to Arielra too. Whatever. A window confirmed.

My mind flashed white. A memory slipped through my fingers. I steadied myself against the wall. What vanished? I blanked out briefly. Then realized. I couldn't recall Arielra's last expression when she called me.

"..."

Good that it was gone. Recalling it would've stopped me cold. But oddly, my chest felt uneasy. Like I'd forcibly shoved an important guilt into a drawer. I shook my head. Escape now. I groped the opposite wall. In the game, this storeroom was bidirectional. The entrance stairs led to the annex garden; the hidden door opposite to the palace outer abandoned stables. I found the worn handle carved into the wall. Pulled. Click. The door opened. Dust and must rushed in. I plunged inside without looking back.

The abandoned stables were on the palace outskirts. Once for imperial hunting horses, now rarely used. In the original game, just background; a brief chase event in Arielra's route. I crouched behind a pile of rotten hay. Outside, knights were rushing about.

"West garden search complete!"

"Traces of secret passage found!"

"Report to Her Highness the Princess!"

I held my breath. Whether from the cloak or not, a soldier passing nearby didn't spot me. Or maybe he did, but his gaze slid off. I must've looked like just a dirty rag huddled by the hay. Good. Ugly cloak, solid performance.

Time ticking fast. I moved deeper into the stables. The restraint on my right wrist still glowed. But delayed transmission meant the knights hadn't pinpointed me yet. The problem was the stigmata. My lower left chest burned hot. The saintess's record slate calling me. She probably hadn't seen all the logs yet. But even just "Curse Substitute Accepter: Leon Hart" was enough. She'd act. The saintess was that type. Learning someone took a curse for her? She couldn't sit still. Especially if it was the guy who'd insulted and ditched her.

Good.

I opened the back door of the stables. Outskirts waterway. Follow to lower district. Survive there with cloak and ID. 12 gold gets a dingy room. Hide a few days. Perfect plan. Flawless. Of course, my past "perfect" plans had mostly failed. But this time... I wanted to believe.

I headed for the waterway entrance. Then a voice echoed from afar.

"Her Highness the Princess approaches!"

My body froze. Arielra. Already? I peered through a stable crack. Far off, golden hair gleamed. She wasn't running. Walking slowly. Yet all around, knights held their breath. Her face was too distant to see. But I knew. Not angry. That silence made her more dangerous.

I dropped low immediately. Had to go. Now. I approached the waterway door at the back. Rusted shut. I pulled the handle. Stuck.

"..."

No talking. No cursing. I gritted my teeth and yanked again. Screech. It half-opened. Then the restraint on my right wrist heated up.

"Ah."

I'd spoken. A window flashed.

Sent to Arielra. That I'm here. Not exact spot, but that I'm panicking. Coin duration still active. Please hold. Please.

Survived. I slipped through the waterway door. A low stone path stretched into darkness. Stench assaulted me—rotting water, mud, old moss. Far better than the palace's gaudy rose scent. I hunched and hurried. The waterway was pitch black. But I knew the way. Palace outskirts waterway linked to lower district sewers. Infiltration route assassins used in the original. Poison smuggled in for Arielra's assassination attempt via this path. Back then, I'd run to block it. Now, fleeing through it. Life's unpredictable.

After coin ends, it'll climb again. I checked the two remaining coins in my hand. Conserve. Reached a waterway fork. Left: Capital Lower District. Right: Temple underground sewers. Straight: Academy old school outer waterway. Right out—saintess territory. Straight too far—no stamina for academy. Left. Lower district. I turned left. Then faint light flashed behind. Imperial knights' tracking magic.

"This way!"

A voice echoed. Coin effect ended. I reached for the second coin. Stopped. Conserve. Just a few knights. Cloak can hold. I pressed against the wall, pulling the cloak tighter. Two knights rounded the corner. Magic lantern swept the dark. Light passed before me. My heart pounded wildly.

Not scared.

I told myself. Not scared. Not scared.

Of course I was.

Please. The knight's gaze locked on me. Done for. Then the Extra's Worn Cloak faintly glowed. The knight's eyes glazed. "Rat?"

"Deeper in. Go."

They passed me. I didn't breathe until they were gone. Then slowly exhaled. Survived. Second time? Or who knows how many. I moved again. Spotted the rusted iron grate to the lower district. Locked. But rusted. Can't strain left shoulder. Right hand awkward from restraint. Picked up a rusty iron shard from the floor. Wedged into the gap. Slowly. Silently. Click. Lock undone. Worth the hundreds of lockpicking minigames in the original. I opened the grate and emerged.

Capital ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Lower District. The smell changed. No palace roses, no temple incense. Oil. Baking bread. Damp stone. The humid reek of crowded streets. I stepped into a narrow alley. Cloak hood up, leaned against the wall, catching breath. Palace bells tolled distantly. But locals ignored it. To lower folk, palace uproar was always distant. Noble deaths, princess tantrums, knights rushing—bread money mattered more.

Perfect. No one saw me. No one called my name. No one cared who I was. A strange relief welled deep in my chest. This. Not grand thrones, beautiful heroines, epic tales. Just streets where no one hunted me. That sufficed. I touched the ID token. Rohan. From today, I'm Rohan. Leon Hart is dead. At least for a few days.

Checked the gold pouch. 12 coins. Dingy room, cheap food, some meds—lasts a week. A week. Black record slates might quiet. Princess's Cage weaken. Saintess tracking cut. All hopes. But plans needed. I slipped from the alley into the crowd. Extra's Worn Cloak dimming my presence. For the first time. Truly. I hid in the throng.

I hardened my face. Tracking too fast. Use another coin? Not yet. But the next window stopped me cold.

My left chest ignited. I gripped the wall. "Kuh."

A sound leaked. Window flashed.

To Arielra again. And saintess finds me. From both sides. I gritted teeth, pulled second coin. Conserve. But not now, game over. "Use."

I clutched my reeling head, dove deeper into the alley. Head felt hollow. Couldn't pinpoint what blurred. But some vital scene seemed sliced away. Arielra's face. What did she say holding me? Finally. To me. It surfaced, then fogged like mist. Good. No need to remember. What I needed wasn't guilt, but escape routes. I pulled the cloak tighter.

Capital Lower District was a maze. Narrow alleys. Crooked signs. Wet cobblestones. Poor merchants' shouts. Booze, oil, old sewage mingled. World apart from the palace. That's why good. No eyes on me. No curiosity. But couldn't hide forever. Dong. Palace bell again. Dong. Second toll. Before third, imperial soldiers' voices erupted from streets.

"By order of Her Highness the Princess!"

Crowds murmured, heads turning.

"Capital-wide temporary lockdown! All main gates sealing immediately!"

I kept walking. Expected. Arielra would do that. One chamber door not enough? She'd make the whole capital her cage.

"Search for imperial protection target underway! Non-compliance at checkpoints deemed defiance of imperial order!"

Imperial protection target. Laughable. That was me. I touched the nameless token. Rohan. But no passing gates on this alone now. Normal paths closed.

Time for abnormal. Ways out during capital gate lockdown: three.

One, noble secret carriage. Impossible—heading to nobles means caught by princess.

Two, temple underground sewers. Worst. With slate open, walking into her altar.

Three. Thieves' guild smuggling route.

I eyed the alley end. Gray Hand. Fugitives, fake IDs, black market, smuggling. First name for quietly erasing someone from the capital. No assassin guild—they calculate ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bounty over jobs. Spot Leon Hart? Sell to princess or haggle with my head.

Thieves different. Prefer stealing over killing. And thieves know paths. I headed deepest into lower district alleys.

Gray Hand. No sign. Front piled with rusted pots, broken wheels, dead magic lanterns, chipped plates like a junk mountain.

I entered. Back sat a wizened old man. One eye milky, the other knife-sharp.

"What you seekin'?"

I didn't answer. Save words. Voice goes to Arielra. Grabbed dusty paper and charcoal from table.

Old man's eyes narrowed. Not literal shopping. Code for wanting Gray Hand contact. He folded paper twice. "Pricey."

I placed one gold coin. He flicked it with finger. "Not glove price."

I wrote again. [Outside capital. Tonight.]

His expression shifted. "Not hear the bells?"

Short note. [That's why paying premium.]

He laughed first time. "Customer wants out during imperial lockdown."

His gaze dropped to my right wrist under cloak. I tugged cloak lower. He pretended not to see. Good merchant. One who wanted to live. "Ten gold to capital outskirts."

I stared. All but two coins. No conscience? But no speaking. Wrote. [Conscience?]

He smirked. "First customer asking for conscience in lockdown."

I conceded. Pulled ten gold. He didn't take. "Seven upfront. Three after exit."

Thought. Fair. Not seeing me as total fool. Placed seven. He pocketed like smoke. "Anything else?"

Listed prep. [Food. Water. Travel cloak. Dagger. Small crossbow. Bolts. Smoke bombs. Capital outskirts map.]

Brow raised. "War?"

Wrote. [Fleeing.]

Laughed again. "Honest customer. Silent but writing true."

No reply. "Special for honest: two gold."

Nodded approval. He vanished back. Items emerged: hard bread. Jerky. Waterskin. Cheap travel cloak. Worn dagger. Palm-sized small crossbow. 12 bolts. Two smoke bombs. Thin iron needle bundle. Capital outskirts sewer map. I hefted crossbow. Light. Aiming tough, but close range doable. No sword—cool, but I sucked with them. Sword vs knight? Suicide. Crossbow different. Hit good. Miss, still stalls foe. Enough for runner. Packed up. Remaining: three gold. Minus three payoff: zero. Perfect. Now princess prisoner, saintess target, empire fugitive, and broke. Freedom's price—cheap. He said low. "Midnight. East mill back. Late, ditched."

Nodded. "And." Eyed wrist. "That silver thing. Hard to hide long."

Froze. He met eyes. "Smells imperial. Gray Hand no sell customers. But imperial blade to throat? Story changes."

Wrote. [How long holds?]

Three fingers. "Longest three days. Shortest tonight."

Crumpled paper. Tonight. No time. "Really want out? Go tonight. Tomorrow late."

Nodded. Last, small black cloth pouch. "Service."

Eyed wary. "Rat repellent powder. Blinds dog noses short. Useless on people."

Took it. Nearly said thanks. Clamped mouth. Bowed slight. He smirked. "Silent customers live long."

True. Especially me.

Sun dipped. Midnight. East mill back. Gray-hooded man waited. "Balance."

Handed three gold. Now zero. Checked, opened rusted iron door. Stairs down. Rotten water, cold wind rose. "This path out capital."

No answer. Rolled last Coin of Oblivion in hand. Looked sky. First Black Record Slate over palace. Second over temple, black-glowing. Two tombstones looming over my sins. Bowed head. Bit last coin.

Memory blurred again. Couldn't tell what. But oddly... a voice saying "Thanks for living" to someone faded far. Descended stairs. Thieves' guild man low. "No talk. Follow."

Liked this guide. Stepped into dark. Then. Palace bells far off... stopped. Completely. The silence more ominous.