I Transmigrated as an EXTRA, So Why Is the PLOT OBSESSED With Me?!

The first thing I noticed was the ceiling. It was beautiful. That was my immediate and completely useless observation. The ceiling above me was painted with gold vines and tiny silver stars, arranged so delicately that I was almost afraid to breathe in case the whole thing collapsed from the sheer weight of its own elegance. I blinked. Once. Twice. Then I stared harder. *This is not my ceiling.* My ceiling had a water stain shaped vaguely like a duck. This ceiling looked like something a king would sleep underneath. I slowly sat up. The blanket slid down my body. I froze. My hands were tiny. Very, very tiny. I stared at them. Then I looked down. A white nightgown. Small legs. Small feet. Small everything. I grabbed my face. My cheeks were soft. My hair was long enough to fall across my shoulders. I rushed toward the enormous mirror standing beside the bed. A little girl stared back at me. She looked about five years old. I stared. She stared. I poked my cheek. She poked hers. I pulled at my hair. She did the same. Then I whispered the only reasonable conclusion. "…Oh, no." The little girl in the mirror looked terrified. I was terrified. Unfortunately, screaming seemed like a terrible idea. So I sat down on the floor. And thought. Very carefully. Because the last thing I remembered was going to sleep after spending an unreasonable amount of time reading a novel. A very long novel. A very dramatic novel. A novel filled with magic, political conspiracies, handsome men, tragic backstories, unnecessary misunderstandings, and a heroine who somehow survived every disaster the author threw at her. I remembered complaining about the ending. I remembered saying— *"If I were in this novel, I'd stay as far away from everyone as possible."* I had apparently been very confident about that. The universe, it seemed, had a sense of humor. I looked back at the mirror. Five-year-old me looked back. "No." I slapped both cheeks gently. "Wake up." Nothing happened. I slapped them again. "Wake up." Still nothing. I pinched my arm. "Ouch!" I immediately stopped. "Okay. Definitely not a dream." There was a knock on the door. I froze. The door opened. A woman in a maid's uniform stepped inside. Her eyes widened when she saw me sitting on the floor. "Your Highness!" She rushed toward me. I stared at her. Your Highness? She knelt. "Princess Liora! Why are you on the floor?" Princess. Liora. My brain stopped. Then started again. Then stopped. "No." The maid looked confused. "Your Highness?" "No, no, no, no." I stood up. "What's my name?" The maid looked even more confused. "Princess Liora Aveline." My heart dropped. **Liora Aveline.** I knew that name. I knew that name very well. I had read about her. She was the princess who barely appeared in the novel. The King's youngest daughter. The Crown Prince's little sister. A completely insignificant character who appeared occasionally during royal events. She had no major role. No tragic villainess arc. No grand destiny. No important romance. She was basically furniture with a title. I slowly smiled. Then laughed. The maid stared at me like I'd gone insane. I didn't care. "I'm an extra." The maid blinked. "…Yes, Your Highness?" "I'm an extra!" I threw my arms into the air. The maid looked alarmed. "Should I call the physician?" "No!" I grabbed her hands. "I'm safe!" She looked terrified. "Safe?" "Yes!" I released her. Then I began pacing. This was wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. The original story didn't begin until years later. Liora barely appeared. She wasn't involved with the villainess. She wasn't involved with the heroine. She wasn't one of the male leads' love interests. She wasn't even important enough to die. I was safe. I could live quietly. I could eat expensive food. I could read books. I could sleep in a giant bed. I could enjoy being a princess. And most importantly— I could avoid the plot. I turned toward the maid. "What year is it?" She told me. I calculated. My eyes widened. The novel's main story wouldn't begin for nearly ten years. Nearly. Ten. Years. I nearly cried from happiness. "Ten years…" The maid tilted her head. "Is that good, Your Highness?" "It's wonderful." I smiled. "Absolutely wonderful." --- My new life began immediately. The palace was enormous. Ridiculously enormous. There were so many rooms that I was convinced the royal family had deliberately built extra ones just to make children get lost. There were gardens. Fountains. Libraries. Training grounds. A ballroom. Three dining halls. A greenhouse. And a kitchen that smelled so good I nearly abandoned my plans to stay dignified. The servants called me Princess Liora. Everyone bowed. Everyone smiled. Everyone treated me carefully. It was strange. Very strange. I had gone from an ordinary life to having someone tie my shoes for me. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Then I met the King. My new father. He was sitting in his study when I entered. He looked exactly like a king should. Tall. Regal. Dark hair beginning to show traces of silver. His expression was calm. Almost too calm. He looked at me. And for the briefest moment— something changed in his eyes. Sadness. It was there for barely a second. Then it disappeared. "Come here, Liora." I walked toward him. He placed a hand gently on my head. "You are awake." "Yes, Father." The word felt strange. Father. I had never called anyone that before. He looked at me for another moment. Then his gaze shifted toward the silver necklace around my neck. I hadn't noticed it earlier. It was delicate. A small moon-shaped crystal hung from it. The King touched it. "Never remove this." I blinked. "Why?" "Because I said so." That was not an answer. I narrowed my eyes. The King sighed. "It is a protective artifact." "Oh." That sounded believable. I touched the crystal. It was warm. "Does it protect me from monsters?" "Among other things." "Ghosts?" "Perhaps." "Bad dreams?" "Possibly." "Etiquette lessons?" He paused. "No." I sighed. "Then it's useless." The King's lips twitched. Just barely. I noticed. He almost smiled. Then his expression became distant again. "You should rest." "Okay." I turned toward the door. Before I left, I glanced back. He was staring at me. Not like a father looking at his daughter. Like someone looking at a memory. His expression made my chest feel strangely heavy. I didn't understand why. I only knew that when I smiled at him, he looked away. --- I didn't understand the King. But I understood one thing. Being a princess was exhausting. Especially when you had a schedule. Breakfast. Etiquette. History. Reading. Music. Lunch. More etiquette. A nap. More reading. I stared at the schedule. "This is slavery." My tutor looked horrified. "Your Highness." "I'm five." "Indeed." "Why do I need three hours of etiquette?" "Because you are a princess." "I already know how to bow." "Your posture is incorrect." I straightened. "Like this?" "No." I straightened more. "Like this?" "No." I leaned backward. "Like this?" "Your Highness." "Yes?" "Please stop." I grinned. This was going to be fun. --- That evening, I escaped. Technically, I didn't escape. I simply walked away while my maid was distracted. There was a difference. I followed a corridor that I was fairly certain led toward the kitchens. It did. The smell of freshly baked bread grew stronger. My eyes sparkled. Finally. My new life had meaning. I pushed open the kitchen door. Everyone froze. I froze. A cook dropped a spoon. "Princess?" I smiled. "Hello." "Your Highness, what are you doing here?" I looked at the bread. Then at him. Then back at the bread. "Research." "Research?" "Very important research." The cook looked suspicious. I pointed toward the bread. "I need to determine whether royal bread tastes different from normal bread." The cook stared at me. I stared back. Finally, he sighed. "Would Your Highness like a roll?" "Yes." He handed me one. I took a bite. My eyes widened. This kingdom was worth staying in. I sat happily at the kitchen table. Maybe being an extra wasn't so bad. Maybe I could really live peacefully. Maybe I could grow up, enjoy my life, and completely avoid the complicated plot waiting ten years in the future. I smiled. Then the kitchen door suddenly opened. A boy stood there. He looked about eight years old. Golden-brown hair. Blue eyes. Royal clothing. He stared at me. I stared at him. I recognized him immedi ately. **Caspian Aveline.** The Crown Prince. My older brother. He looked at the bread in my hand. Then at me. Then at the cook. Then back at me. "Liora." I swallowed. "Yes?" "What are you doing?" I thought carefully. Then smiled. "Research." Caspian stared at me. The cook quietly turned away. And somewhere deep inside my soul, a terrible feeling began to grow. I had only been in this world for one day. And somehow... I already suspected that my peaceful extra life was going to be much harder than I thought.