Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

The journey to our destination was long and arduous. The trip would take several days, and each day was a test of endurance and resilience.

The rough floor of the luggage compartment became my bed, and every jolt of the carriage was a reminder of my precarious situation.

The knights allowed me to leave the carriage only twice a day, just to relieve myself. Each time, I was watched closely, and any attempt at escape was immediately quashed by their stern vigilance.

The brief moments outside the carriage were a reprieve, but they were also humiliating as if I was a mere prisoner.

'Just endure it.'

It was a bit unfair, at least I felt like.

But there was nothing that could be done at all.

Meals were sparse and infrequent. I was given food only once a day, and what I received was stone-hard and barely edible.

Stale bread, tough meat, and the occasional bruised fruit. My stomach growled incessantly, but I forced myself to eat, knowing I needed the strength.

Water was rationed, and I was given only a small amount each day, just enough to keep me from dehydrating. The dryness in my throat was a constant companion, and each sip of water somehow felt like I was relieving myself in the holy water itself.

The days blurred together in a haze of discomfort and fatigue. The nights were the worst, the cold seeping into my bones as I lay on the hard floor of the carriage. I wanted to coat my body with mana, but since the amount of food I was eating was low, it was hard for my body to recover.

And I had never been good at using mana efficiently, to begin with. Compared to my elder brother and elder sister, I was a lot worse.

In the darkness, left to my thoughts, even sleep eluded me. Each time I closed my eyes, my stomach would churn with the memory of that centipede and the time Isolde had fed it to me. The grotesque image haunted my mind, making it impossible to find any semblance of peace.

I lay there, counting the ticks of the carriage wheels, each quaking of the rough road jarring me further. The isolation and the darkness pressed in on me, amplifying my fears and doubts.

My mind wandered to Elara, to the hatred in her eyes and the betrayal that had shattered her life as well as mine.

'The plot of the novel, Shattered Innocence.'

I didn't know how I was here. Was it because I just said something about the novel itself? I remembered talking about the novel on the bus with someone.

'Who?'

I asked myself. There was someone there, yet it was blurry. I couldn't recall anything at all.

'How did it come to this?'

Another question. And the answer was unknown.

'Why hadn't I seen it? The façade that she was showing to.'

Thinking about Isolde….I couldn't help but feel a sense of knowing in my heart. All the time that was spent.

All the memories.

Were they nothing but fake?

Was that all it amounted to?

"A stupid country bumpkin who had no idea what was happening around him."

I remembered the words that were spoken by the very fiancée that I had.

'A country bumpkin who had no idea, huh? That seems to be true…..'

Considering that I was never aware of such a thing happening, it seems her words were true. It was not like I was an exceptional person either, not that I ever pretended I was one.

"Lucavion, you are going to meet your fiancée."

The memory flashed vividly in my mind. My father's stern face loomed over me, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and sternness.

"Lucavion, you are going to meet your fiancée," he repeated, his voice carrying the weight of duty and expectation.

I stood before him, feeling the pressure of his gaze. "Yes, Father."

He sighed, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Listen to me, son. You must be careful and never annoy the Lady. The Valoria family is a dukedom that our family, the Thorne family, has been a vassal to for generations. It was because of a promise between me and the Duke when we were on the frontlines that the engagement between our two families was made.

This is an opportunity for us to strengthen our position in the noble society. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father," I replied, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on my shoulders. "I will do my best."

At the start, I couldn't understand why I was the one who would be the fiancée of such a lady. After all, wouldn't my brother, who was not engaged with anyone at that time, be better?

But then, after meeting Isolde, I realized.

She was sick.

Someone who could hardly move outside and spent most of her time in her room. Her standing in her family was weak, just like her body.

Most of the time, it was her sister, Elara, who got all the attention and the responsibilities.

And since her standing was low and she wouldn't be able to influence the noble world too much, sending me instead of my brother would be the right choice.

There was also the requirement of having an heir for the family. Since Isolde was always viewed as weak and sick, expecting an heir from her would be hard.

At the end of the day, even my engagement to her was a way for my family to show that I was not useful.

After all, I was not good at controlling mana, nor was I good at the spear that our family specialized in.

TOK!

As these thoughts swirled in my mind, the carriage suddenly stopped. The abrupt halt jolted me from my reflections, and I listened intently to the sounds outside.

–TAP!

–TAP!

Footsteps approached, heavy and deliberate.

The doors of the carriage swung open, and daylight flooded in, momentarily blinding me. I squinted, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness.

The knights stood there, their expressions stern and unreadable.

Finally, my trip had ended.

I climbed out of the carriage with some effort, my body stiff and aching from the rough journey.

As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw the familiar sight of the Thorne mansion, the place where I had spent all of my childhood.

The grand structure loomed before me, a mixture of imposing and nostalgic.

"Move."

The knights did not give me any time to reminisce. They grabbed me by the arms and started leading me toward the mansion.

Normally, such an act that was made to a noble would be detrimental and would mostly end with execution since disrespecting a noble meant such punishment.

'I can move on my own.'

I wanted to protest, but I couldn't. I could feel the eyes that were piercing through me even now.

He was there, and I knew if I were to just open my mouth, I would be burned. If he was watching this and was now, then the fact that he was keeping it silent meant he was allowing the knights to act like this.

Thus, I could only shut it and accept the treatment.

The path was lined with well-kept gardens and ornate statues, all of which felt strangely alien despite their familiarity.

As we approached the entrance, the heavy doors of the mansion opened, revealing a man and a woman standing there. The faces were familiar, and I immediately recognized the man from the memory I had just now.

It was my father, Gerald Thorne. His tall and imposing figure was draped in fine, dark clothes, his face stern and weathered from years of duty and responsibility.

His sharp eyes were as usual. His demeanor was stern, as usual.

Yet, in his eyes, I could see something different.

'Anger.'

Yes, it was anger. His eyes contained immense anger that was parallel to elder brother as well.

His jaw was set tight, and his silver hair was combed back, giving him an air of severe authority.

Beside him stood another person, a woman whose presence brought a rush of childhood memories flooding back.

Mother.

Eleanor Thorne.

She was a picture of grace and poise, her elegant dress flowing around her as she stood with a regal bearing.

Her hair, a rich chestnut brown, was neatly styled, and her green eyes….

In my memories, she had always been gentle, a comforting figure in my life, always quick with a kind word or a soft touch. But at this moment, her expression told a different story. Her face was hard, her lips pressed into a thin line, and her eyes contained a look….

"Fa-"

I wanted to speak, but before I could even say anything, he just turned back. And then said, "Take him to the basement. And keep him there until the trial commences."

His words were cold, and with each one of those, I felt the words I planned to speak stuck in my throat.

"Understood, my Lord."

Following that, someone familiar appeared before me.

"Excuse my rudeness, Young Lord Lucavion."

It was a man with a wrinkled face.

"….."

The butler of our family.

"Sebastian," I muttered, recognizing the loyal servant who had always been a part of our household.

"Please follow me, Young Lord."

He gestured for the knights to leave me alone and then took over, guiding me through the corridors of the mansion.

As we walked, the grandeur of the place seemed to mock my current state. The tapestries, the chandeliers, the finely crafted furniture—all reminders of the life I had once known, now seemingly out of reach.

We descended a narrow staircase that led to the basement. The air grew colder and damper with each step, and the light dimmed.

The basement was a stark contrast to the opulence above. It was a place meant for storage, for things hidden away and forgotten.

Sebastian led me to a small, dank cell. He opened the door and gestured for me to enter.

"I am sorry, Young Lord," he said softly, his eyes betraying a hint of sorrow. "This is for your own protection until the trial."

"….." I nodded, as I knew he couldn't do anything better than this.

Since I could see a slight mat on the ground.

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