The Extra's Guide to Accidental Treason

Chapter 1

"It's completely burnt."

Seven-year-old Penelope Celestia de Rosier stared at the smoking, pitch-black rectangle resting on her wooden plate with a stray tuft of her messy hair falling over her eyes.

"Oh, sweetheart, let me scrape that off for you," her mother said cheerfully, bustling over with a warm smile and a tea towel draped over her shoulder. "Your father left the toaster iron near the embers a bit too long while fussing over his seedlings."

"It bloomed!" Baron Rosier burst through the kitchen door, his face smeared with dark soil, waving a small clay pot in the air like he had just discovered fire. "Martha, look! My pink tea rose has a fourth petal! We must celebrate! I shall order three tons of imported bat guano from the eastern merchants immediately!"

"That's wonderful, dear," Martha Rosier hummed, setting down a fresh jar of sweet apple jam. "Just don't spend our winter coal money on bat droppings again."

Beside Penelope, one of her three-year-old twin brothers, Cory, let out a warlike screech and promptly slapped a sticky hand covered in strawberry jam directly onto his brother's forehead. The second twin, Collin, gasped in betrayal, shrieked like a banshee, and retaliated by lobbing a soft bread roll across the table.

It hit the vase their father made with the Kingdom's insignia that made it shatter on the floor.

"Nooo!!!" Baron Rosier screamed in slow motion at his most prized work shattering on the ground.

"Oh, honey." Baroness Rosier comforted her grieving husband.

Cory could only shut his mouth at what had happened.

"I-I'm sowwy." Collin apologized sincerely.

Baron Rosier could only sigh before putting on a smile on his face again.

"It's alright, Collin." He stood up and pat Collin on the back. "I'm sure I can make a new one again."

He comforted his kid who was on the verge of crying.

"Ah! My cinnamon rolls!" Baroness Rosier exclaimed, taking out her freshly baked cinnamon rolls out of their oven.

Penelope, however, didn't blink. She couldn't. The loud thud of the vase and familiar insignia had broken something in her.

As the bitter stench of incinerated bread filled her nostrils, a terrifying avalanche of memories crashed into her seven-year-old brain.

What the--

She thought, her eyes widening until she looked like an owl on high caffeine.

The memories flooded in like a broken dam. She remembered a past life. A quiet and unremarkable existence. And, crucially, she remembered the trashy romance w*******l she had read shortly before waking up in this world.

The Imperial Blossom.

It was a classic romance novel centered around a sweet and impoverished noble girl named Lillian, who was destined to melt the icy and terrifying heart of the Empire's most overpowered human disaster:

Crown Prince Theodore von Valerius..

Penelope thought internally, a cold sweat breaking out across her tiny forehead. The raven-haired prodigy. The ruthlessly brilliant military commander with raven-black hair and piercing blue eyes who executed a traitorous duke at age twenty, consolidated imperial power by twenty-five, and didn't smile a single genuine smile until the heroine accidentally tripped over a rug and fell onto his chest in chapter forty-five.

"Pen?" Her mother paused, noticing her daughter's frozen, traumatized expression. "Darling, are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Mother," Penelope said slowly, her voice uncomfortably flat for a seven-year-old. "Who is the ruler of this country?"

"Why, His Imperial Majesty, of course, Emperor William von Valerius III," her father replied absently, trying to scrape jam off his fourth rose petal.

"...Does he have a kid, mother?"

"Why, yes, dear. Crown Prince Theodore von Valerius. A terrifyingly clever boy. They say he reads battlefield tactics for light bedtime entertainment and solves state treason before breakfast. Why are you suddenly interested in the Royal Family?"

Penelope's stomach didn't just drop. It plummeted straight through the floorboards, dug a hole to the center of the earth, and died there.

I really reincarnated into that crappy romance novel,

She realized, her inner monologue ascending into a frantic spiral of sudden realization.

And there's no mention of the Rosier family in the story at all. Which could only mean, we are one of those background families that aren't even worth mentioning.

The horror of knowing this made Penelope have chills. Because she wouldn't know what would happen to a background family who isn't even mentioned in the original novel.

She looked around the chaotic, sunny kitchen. Her father was currently comforting her brother. Her mother was smiling while pulling a tray of fresh cinnamon pastries from the oven, filling the room with the divine scent of melted butter. Her twin brothers were currently snuggling their father for his comfort with Collin crying and Cory just joining in for a hug.

Penelope caught her reflection in the polished copper kettle on the table. Pale skin, wide green eyes, and soft light-blonde hair tied back in a messy braid.

An overwhelming sense of warmth filled her chest, so sweet and deep it made her throat tighten.

She loved them. She loved them with every single fiber of her being. Her soft-hearted father, who cried over rose petals.. her mother, whose warm hugs smelled like vanilla and sugar..her chaotic little brothers, who always insisted on giving her the biggest strawberry from their bowl. She had a family that adored her, a home filled with laughter, and a life that felt completely, beautifully full.

Even with the knowledge she had of the story, her current life was all she could ever ask for. She didn't want power. She didn't want anything more. She was so deeply grateful for this wonderful life that she wouldn't change a single thread of it.

And to keep it that way, she needed to make sure she never, ever pulled the thread of the main plot.

I have to make sure the story flows without it harming my family.

She swore internally with the burning passion of a thousand suns.

If I so much as change a single plot, it could mean getting caught in political crossfire that could endanger the very people I want to protect. Because if I so much as touch the plot, who knew what dominoes might fall? What if a stray political conflict reached father's estate? What if my quiet, perfect little haven was disrupted?

No.

Penelope decided, her determination solidifying like iron.

I have everything I could ever ask for right here. The best thing I can do for my family--and for my own peace of mind--is to play the role of a flawless background character.

She was going to master the art of being invisible. She would be an extra so utterly convincing that the main characters wouldn't even notice her existence.

"I am going to be a wall," Penelope monologued dramatically in her head, running a hand through her light-blonde hair before taking a crunchy bite of her burnt toast.

"I am going to be the wallpaper. I will eat sweet pastries, read trashy books in the shade, cherish my goofy family, and let the main characters handle their own emotional baggage five hundred miles away."

"Pen!" her mother gasped, noticing her chewing.

"Don't eat that part, darling, you'll ruin your stomach!"

"I must consume the darkness, Mother," Penelope declared with tragic, deadpan intensity, chewing through the ash.

"It prepares me for a life of absolute obscurity."

"What a strange thing to say, dear." her father muttered. "Do we have a life of absolute obscurity, honey?"

"Well... we haven't been going to any balls recently, dear." Baroness Rosier answered as she leaned down on her husband to whisper. "I think it's time we attend some. Our children are growing up, and I think being in the countryside has made them lose their senses."

"I see. Well, shall we go back to the Capital for a while?"

"Let's talk about it tonight."

They stopped their whispering as they looked at their kids who looked like they were in their own worlds.

"Yeah, let's definitely talk about it tonight." Baron Rosier said.

-----

That night, Penelope sat at her small wooden desk under the dim glow of a single candle. She pulled out a small, leather-bound notebook and began writing.

It wasn't a plan to gain influence or wealth. It was The Official Survival Guide for Background Extras.

Rule 1: Never, under any circumstances, visit the Imperial Capital during the Winter Solstice. (High probability of assassin ambushes, dramatic speeches, and collateral damage).

Rule 2: If Crown Prince Theodore enters a room, locate the nearest exit immediately. Stand precisely four meters away from the doorway at all times to ensure a clean getaway.

Rule 3: If a main plot event occurs in public, DO NOT gasp, DO NOT scream, and DO NOT make eye contact with anyone holding a sword. Grab a pastry, chew quietly, and pretend to be part of the furniture.

Rule 4: Protect family peace at all costs. Always.

Penelope closed the notebook with a satisfied, triumphant snap, hiding it beneath a loose floorboard under her bed.

Perfect.

She thought, burying her light-blonde head under her warm, fluffy feather duvet with a deeply contented sigh.

The plot can run its chaotic course. I am officially going to be the most invisible spectator in the history of this Empire.