Chapter : 18
Even as an Extra, I Refuse the Death Route (18)
The fear I thought I had long forgotten—the first time I faced the madness—suddenly surged vividly in my mind.
Moreover, unlike back then, there was no one to stop it this time.
“What should I do…!”
My body, seized by terror, began to shake uncontrollably.
The tray I was holding wobbled in my hands, plates clashing with a clatter.
“Oh, right… the dessert!”
It wasn’t a guaranteed solution, but I had to do something, even if it was just grasping at straws.
And if the madness subsided, then I’d finally have a reliable method in hand.
I raised one hand and picked up a madeleine from the plate.
Fortunately, the smoke hadn’t fully soaked into my hair yet.
If Iart fell completely under the grip of madness, there would be no way to stop it.
This was my chance.
“…Ugh.”
With a faint groan, Iart staggered to his feet, clutching his head with murky eyes.
I seized the moment, forcing all the strength into my trembling legs, and approached him.
“…No!”
The moment I brought the madeleine to Iart’s lips, he snapped his head away, pressing his lips tightly shut—probably because of the headache.
The madeleine tumbled not into his mouth, but onto the floor.
Even if the dessert could halt the madness, it wouldn’t work unless it actually entered his mouth.
Bang.
I slammed the tray down on the table as if throwing it, then picked up another madeleine.
I stepped closer to Iart and, without hesitation, reached for his lips.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”
I knew touching someone without permission was wrong, but… this was a life-or-death situation.
I slid my fingers between Iart’s slightly parted lips and pushed downward.
Seizing that tiny gap, I stuffed the madeleine in.
At that very moment, the smoke fully penetrated, and his once platinum-blonde hair darkened completely to black.
“Did I… fail?!”
If it didn’t work, I’d have to run like mad immediately.
Backing up and bracing my feet,
“Argh!”
Iart’s body twisted and leaned toward me.
I tried to block his chest with my hands, but his weight was far beyond what I could withstand.
I was pushed over by Iart, tumbling to the floor.
Thud.
A heavy pain should have surged along with the sound… but
“…Huh?”
It wasn’t nearly as painful as I expected.
I should have hit my head falling backward with my hands outstretched.
Instead, the surface against my head felt warm and soft, not hard at all.
“…What… is happening?”
Looking up at the low voice, Iart was staring at me with his usual blue eyes.
“Ah… that’s…”
Panicking, my gaze darted around, landing on Iart’s arm.
Following it naturally downward, I realized it ended behind my head.
I looked and saw the position we had ended up in was… strange.
Like… no, no.
“Ha… I guess I should just get up.”
“Yes, yes!”
I scrambled to my feet, and Iart furrowed his brow.
“Explain what just happened.”
Only then did I begin piecing together what had just occurred.
Soon, I became certain.
“I figured out a way to stop Your Highness’ madness.”
“…What?”
Iart’s expression twisted instantly from shock.
“If that’s a lie, you’ll pay dearly for your words.”
“It’s true. Not just this once—I just confirmed it now.”
I frantically waved my hands at Iart’s fierce gaze.
He continued scanning the surroundings with a stern expression.
The chairs mismatched with the table after we staggered, the madeleines scattered on the floor, the dishes messy from being hastily placed.
Plus, since the smoke had started to take effect, Iart’s memory was likely patchy.
He probably had some awareness of what had happened during the madness.
“Ha…”
Iart exhaled deeply.
Pressing his temples, he spoke.
“Go for now. We’ll talk later.”
“Eh? But—!”
“Go.”
I had thought it best to explain immediately, but Iart needed time to process.
“Understood.”
Reluctantly, I left the greenhouse for the time being.
Two days later.
Iart was still struggling with unresolved thoughts.
‘Why now… of all times.’
He lay against his bed, eyes tightly shut.
It was already painful enough that the madness had targeted someone else.
But twice… and to the same person… showing his own vulnerability—it tormented him further.
And that person was none other than Irenea.
Reminding him of what happened two years ago.
“Ha…”
He exhaled slowly, the heavy breath filling the room.
It wasn’t just what Ruela had mentioned that weighed on him.
He knew Irenea’s feelings leaned toward goodwill.
But Iart’s heart wasn’t healthy enough to trust those feelings fully.
He had to doubt—constantly.
That was the only way he could prevent himself from breaking further.
“Damn it.”
He ground his teeth.
Two years ago.
Right before the engagement talk with Ruella.
While out hunting, Iart succumbed to a sudden madness and attacked the beasts around him indiscriminately.
When he regained consciousness, covered in blood, he hated himself.
A woman approached him.
She wiped the blood from his hands with her skirt and smiled, saying she had gotten lost in the hunting grounds but survived thanks to him.
Ordinary in appearance, yet her smile was pure.
It shook Iart’s heart.
Could anyone truly smile that purely at him?
The woman, introducing herself as Enna, was brought to the palace by Iart.
She didn’t even know if she was a noble or commoner, or her age.
Pitying her lost memories, he offered her a place in the palace until she recovered.
“You are such a kind person,” Enna said nearly every day.
Iart found himself secretly looking forward to it.
Only then did he realize he had begun opening his heart to Enna.
While she stayed in the palace, she witnessed his madness several times.
One day, while he returned reeking of beast blood, she met him in the hallway with a bright smile.
“This isn’t your fault, Your Highness.”
That was all he had wanted to hear.
And he thought: maybe this woman could accept him.
Someone to hold him, whom he had always thought he would only bring guilt to.
He imagined happiness, even if briefly.
One starry night, he called Enna to the garden and showed her a ring given to him in childhood by the Empress Leiana.
“Give me your hand.”
Enna extended her left hand, bewildered.
Iart slid the ring onto her finger.
“I want you to stay by my side.”
He believed those feelings were love, and that they were mutual.
But when he looked at her face, he realized it was all a misunderstanding.
Enna had turned pale, stepping back.
The emotions on her face were clear: fear, dread, contempt, disgust.
The smiles she gave him were merely masks.
Iart blamed himself.
The ring slipped from her finger as she ran away.
“Damn it! Damn it!”
Haunted by the memory, Iart jumped up.
He never saw Enna again.
Whether she lived or died, he didn’t know.
He assumed she had fled far away to avoid him.
Recently, though, Irenea reminded him of Enna.
With words like “I hope you’re happy” or “You’re a good person.”
Iart wanted to shout, What do you know?!
Yet, part of him had been waiting for those words.
He despised himself for hoping again, knowing he would likely be hurt.
A drop of blood slipped from his clenched fist onto the floor.
“Ha…”
I sat at my desk, burying my head in my hands with a deep sigh.
What on earth is he thinking?
Since that day, Iart had been noticeably avoiding me.
When I brought dessert, Taron stood at the door, unusually stiff.
Receiving the plate with an awkward smile, he probably did so at Iart’s instruction.
I had figured out how to calm the madness, yet I couldn’t even convey it.
Then, on top of everything, the episode ended.
[Episode 2. Surface and Core: The End]
[Death Probability: Unchanged]
[Current Death Probability: 84%]
A truly hopeless state.
Focused on Iart’s madness, I had no new discoveries or incidents.
I felt suffocated in this utterly helpless situation.
I hated such vagueness.
“Do this, do that.”
If instructions were clear, I could try everything.
I disliked all the vague, roundabout hints.
My patience was wearing thin.
“Ugh, this is so frustrating!”
I slammed my fists on the desk repeatedly until my hands began to hurt.
That would only hurt me.
Clearly, solving anything this way was impossible.
I needed someone to help or clear, concrete information.
I clutched my head and racked my brain, hoping for inspiration.
“Please, think of something…!”
Muttering alone was useless.
“Damn this book! Why me?!”
I shouted, glaring at the book on the desk.
“Wait.”
Then, a few days ago, the face of the man I had met flashed through my mind.
“…That man.”
From his meaningful tone to his odd behavior, he was suspicious.
He seemed to know something.
Finally, I had an idea in this desperate situation.
I leapt to my feet and looked out the window.
There was still time before sunset.
“Alright. Let’s go.”
