In the quiet darkness of his cramped apartment, Leo stared blankly at the glowing laptop screen. Coffee cups and instant ramen wrappers—(mostly Buldak 2x Spicy LOL what is your favourite ramen personally mine is not buldak thats all you need to know bad shits)—littered the desk, silent proof of too many nights spent binging obscure content.
Tonight, Leo was deep into the final boss fight of A Lost Soul's Path for Revenge, a brutally difficult RPG that had consumed the last few years of his life. The game followed the journey of a disgraced noble heir clawing his way to power at a magical academy. But Leo didn't care much for the protagonist.
What truly intrigued him was a minor NPC: a nameless attendant assigned to Lady Celina, the academy's top-ranked heroine. The attendant had one short questline and died unceremoniously during an ambush in the midgame taking with him many assassins to give the main character time to escape.
"They really did him dirty," Leo muttered, leaning back in his chair as the 'Chapter 40 completed' screen blinked in red. "He had so much potential. If I were in his shoes, I'd change everything. Not chasing the heroine around like a rabid dog—just building power through pure strength and intellect."
He moved to load his last save.
"Huh?" Leo frowned.
Instead of the save menu, a message popped up:
Thank you for playing A Lost Soul's Path for Revenge. This game will no longer receive updates. Please look forward to our upcoming title: The Maniac Male Lead!
Leo stared at the screen in disbelief.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me..." he growled.
In a fit of frustration, he slammed his laptop shut, cracking the screen. Five years—he had followed this game for five years, only for it to be abandoned.
Fueled by anger, Leo reopened the laptop, clicked on the support page, and began typing a furious review.
But before he could hit submit, the cracks on the screen grew. The glow twisted into a vortex, and a phrase appeared, letter by letter:
"Welcome, Observer. Your path begins in the unknown."
Leo's hand jerked back. The vortex spun faster, a pressure building in the room. He could feel a force pulling at his legs—dragging him in.
"No—NO!" Leo screamed.
Then—silence.
When Leo opened his eyes, the air was damp and thick with the scent of old parchment, sweat, and candle wax.
He wasn't in his room.
He stood in a narrow dormitory hallway, dimly lit by floating blue crystals. His clothes were no longer his own. A fitted black uniform with a silver crest clung to his body, and in his hand...
...a student handbook for Virelion Academy. At the bottom, in ornate writing:
Occupation: Attendant of Lady Celina — House of Lorvine
"Wait... this can't be real..."
Memories—fragments not his own—began to surge through his mind. His name wasn't Leo anymore. It was Caelum Lorvine.
He hadn't just fallen into a game.
He had become the forgotten extra himself.
Chapter 2: The System in the Dust
Caelum stumbled forward, bracing a hand against the cold stone wall of the hallway. The flickering crystal lights hummed above him, casting pale shadows. His heart pounded—not from fear, but from the sheer unreality of it all.
This is the academy... from the game.
It was just like he remembered from the early missions: the narrow halls, the strict gothic architecture, the ever-flickering mana lamps. Even the faint trace of incense and chalk lingering in the air was spot on.
But more importantly—he was here. He was Caelum Lorvine now, the disposable NPC.
He took a shaky breath and glanced again at the handbook in his hand.
He caught his reflection in a polished section of the crystal-lit wall—a young man with tousled black hair, striking gray eyes, and sharp features that gave him an effortlessly noble look. Not Leo's face anymore. This was Caelum's—handsome in a way that invited both intrigue and dismissal. The uniform fit his tall, lean frame with practiced elegance. He looked like a servant, yes—but a refined one, the kind you'd glance at twice without knowing why. The leather binding bore the golden crest of House Lorvine—a broken sword wrapped in thorns. The writing inside detailed his schedule: potion brewing, sword etiquette, mana circulation training, and... "attendant duties."
Right. Babysitting the future Saintess. Joy.
Before he could think further, a soft chime echoed in his ears.
SYSTEM BOOT COMPLETE
Initializing: [Shadow Archive]
Welcome, Caelum Lorvine. Role: Forgotten Extra
Main Objective: Survive.
Sub-Objective: Protect Lady Celina.Failure Condition: Death of Lady Celina will result in system lock and forced narrative collapse.
Synchronization: 6.2%
A translucent blue interface appeared before his eyes, much like the one in the game—only this time, it wasn't a screen. It hovered in the air, responding to his thoughts.
"...This is new," Caelum muttered.
In the original game, NPCs never had access to a system—not even the main character had something like this.
He focused on the floating window, and it shifted in response:
Skill Unlocked: [Observer's Insight Lv.1]
Effect: Allows detection of hidden traits and weaknesses.
Cooldown: 10 minutes
Warning: Using system functions may affect narrative stability.
Narrative stability?
Caelum's brow furrowed. "What kind of fourth-wall-breaking nonsense did I get myself into?"
Footsteps echoed around the corner.
Without thinking, he straightened his posture and slipped the handbook into his coat. Just as he did, a voice rang out.
"Attendant Lorvine. You're late."
Caelum turned.
There she stood. Lady Celina. Silver-blonde hair cascading like moonlight, violet eyes sharper than the blade at her hip, and the air of someone born to rule. Just as flawless—and terrifying—as the game portrayed her.
Caelum bowed slightly. "Apologies, my lady. I was... disoriented."
She gave him a brief glance, then sighed. "You're lucky you're new," she said, her tone softer than expected. "Just don't let it happen again. Come—we're expected at the east courtyard."
Behind her stood three other attendants. All eyes were on him. Judging. Measuring.
In that moment, Caelum realized something important.
This isn't a tutorial.
There were no checkpoints. No restarts.
If he made a mistake—he wouldn't be reset to a save point.
He'd just be dead.