"Theodore?" Seraphina looked baffled. "Why would I like Theodore?"
"Because he's the protagonist!"
The word hung in the air.
It was a strange word. A foreign word. It didn't belong in this world.
Seraphina frowned. "The... what?"
Marcus felt the dam breaking.
He had been holding this secret for months.
He had been carrying the weight of the world, the plot, and the prophecy alone.
And he was tired. He was so incredibly tired of lying.
"The hero!" Marcus shouted. "The Chosen One! The Child of Destiny!"
He began to pace the narrow corridor. He waved his hands manically.
"Don't you see? It's a story. It's all a story."
Seraphina watched him. She looked concerned. She looked like she was assessing him for a concussion.
"Marcus," she said slowly. "Are you feeling quite well?"
"I am feeling the opposite of well!" he ranted. "I am feeling like a glitch in the matrix!"
"Matrix?"
"The narrative! The plot!"
He grabbed his notebook from the floor. He opened it to a page covered in scribbles.
"Look at the flags!" he pointed to a diagram. "You + Theodore = Alliance. Alliance = Victory. Victory = Not dying to demons."
Seraphina stared at the diagram. It looked like the drawings of a madman.
"You think..." she paused. She tried to parse his words. "You think I need to marry your brother to save the world?"
"Yes! Exactly!" Marcus felt a surge of relief. She understood. "It's the Golden Route!"
"The Golden Route," she repeated.
"The best ending! Where everyone lives! Where you find happiness!"
"With Theodore?"
"Yes! He's strong. He's brave. He has great hair."
"He talks about mineral oil for forty minutes at a time."
"He has hidden depths!" Marcus insisted. "You just have to unlock them! You have to trigger the event!"
Seraphina stared at him.
She looked at his frantic eyes. She looked at his messy hair. She looked at the desperate, terrifying sincerity in his face.
"Marcus," she said softly. "Who told you this?"
"The book!" he shouted. "The webnovel! I read it!"
"You read a book... about your brother?"
"No! About this world! Before I came here!"
He froze.
He hadn't meant to say that part.
"Before you came here?" Seraphina took a step closer. "Marcus, have you been cursed?"
"No! I'm a transmigrator! I'm from Earth! I was a life coach!"
The words tumbled out.
"I died! I had a heart attack! And now I'm here, and I'm ruining everything because I'm a side character who stole the main character's romance lines!"
He stopped.
He breathed heavily. The silence in the corridor was deafening.
He looked at Seraphina.
She was staring at him with a mixture of horror and pity.
"Oh god," Marcus whispered.
He heard what he had just said.
I'm a transmigrator. I was a life coach. I'm a side character.
It sounded insane.
It didn't sound like the truth. It sounded like a mental breakdown.
"I sound crazy," he said. His voice trembled. "I sound completely crazy."
He slumped against the wall. He covered his face with his hands.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled through his fingers. "Forget I said anything. I'm just... I'm tired. I've been eating beef jerky for three days."
He waited for her to leave.
He waited for her to call the healers.
He waited for her to run away from the lunatic in the library.
He felt a hand on his wrist.
It was warm. Gentle.
"Marcus," Seraphina said.
He didn't look up. "Please just go. I'm embarrassing myself."
"No."
She pulled his hands away from his face. She forced him to look at her.
Her eyes weren't filled with fear. They weren't filled with judgment.
They were filled with something that terrified him even more.
Understanding.
"I don't know what a 'webnovel' is," she said quietly. "I don't know what a 'life coach' is."
"It's like a therapist but with less regulation," Marcus sniffled.
"Okay," she accepted that without blinking. "And I don't know why you think life is a story."
She squeezed his hands.
"But I know what panic looks like. And I know what guilt looks like."
She stepped closer.
"You think you're responsible for everything, don't you?"
"I am," Marcus whispered. "If I fail, everyone dies."
"That is a very heavy thing to carry."
"It's the plot."
"It's a burden," she corrected. "One you decided to carry alone."
She looked at the dark circles under his eyes. She looked at the way his hands shook.
"You think you don't matter," she said. It wasn't a question. It was a diagnosis.
"I'm the side character," Marcus said weakly. "I'm the extra. I'm not important."
"To whom?"
"To the world. To the story."
"Screw the story," Seraphina said.
Marcus blinked. He had never heard her use profanity.
It was shocking. And weirdly attractive.
"What?"
"Screw the story," she repeated firmly. "I am not a character. I am not a 'route'. I am a person."
She let go of his hands. She placed her hands on his shoulders. She grounded him.
"I make my own choices, Marcus. I choose who I talk to. I choose who I spend time with."
She leaned in. Her forehead touched his.
"And I choose who I love."
Marcus stopped breathing.
"You can't," he whispered. "The prophecy..."
"Does the prophecy say Seraphina Ashwood must be miserable?"
"No, but..."
"Does the prophecy say I must marry a boy who cares more about pommels than people?"
"It implies it."
"Then the prophecy is wrong."
She pulled back slightly. She looked him in the eye.
"Come with me."
"Where?"
"To a chair. A comfortable one. Not a floor."
She took his hand again. She began to lead him down the corridor.
"We are going to sit down," she instructed. "You are going to drink water. And then you are going to explain this... 'transmigration' to me properly."
"You believe me?" Marcus asked. He stumbled after her.
"I believe you are hurting," Seraphina said. "And I believe you are hiding a truth that is eating you alive."
She found a study alcove. It had a plush velvet chair. It had a lamp with a warm yellow light.
She pushed him into the chair.
She sat on the ottoman opposite him. She didn't let go of his hand.
"I don't understand half of what you just said," she admitted.
"It's a lot," Marcus agreed.
"But I understand one thing," she said.
"What?"
"You've decided you don't deserve happiness."
She looked at their joined hands.
"I've done that," she whispered. "After Richard died. I decided I was done. That my story was over."
She looked up at him.
"It doesn't help, Marcus. It doesn't save anyone. It just makes you cold."
"I'm not cold," Marcus said. "I'm just... terrified."
"Good," Seraphina said. "Fear means you have something to lose."
She settled in. She looked prepared to wait all night.
"Start from the beginning," she commanded. "Not the 'protagonist' nonsense. The real beginning. Who are you, Marcus Aldridge?"
Marcus looked at her.
He looked at the woman he was supposed to matchmaker. The woman he was supposed to push away.
She was looking at him with a fierce, protective intensity that burned through his "plot armor" defenses.
He realized then that he had lost.
.
.
.
A/N:
Shoutout to Valyrxa for the golden tickets. Thanks mate.