I Transmigrated as an Extra in a Trashy Dark Romance Game - Chapter 4

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※ This work contains depictions of coercive relationships, explicit language, and other graphic content. Reader discretion is advised.

Finally, the grand doors at the top of the central hall staircase opened, and majestic music heralding the entrance of the protagonists filled the air.

Under the gaze of the crowd, a slender man appeared with a gentle smile, a woman in a pristine white dress awkwardly linked arms with him. Beneath his slightly wavy, dazzling golden hair, his sparkling golden eyes held a soft yet charismatic aura.

Edith thought the Crown Prince was even more blindingly handsome in reality than in the game. Then, she turned her gaze to the woman beside him.

At that moment, Edith felt she understood why the men coveted and sought to corrupt the saintess. Wavy platinum hair, tied in a lovely half-updo that reached her waist, was adorned with a tiara-like hairpiece. Her eyelashes were slightly lowered, and from beneath them, green eyes shining brighter than emeralds enhanced her pure, beautiful face.

‘How could someone with that appearance have remained unknown until her debutante ball?’ she mused, marveling at the game’s own brand of logic as she stared blankly at the heroine’s face.

“From today, the empire has an official heir. I extend my deepest gratitude to my vassals who have gathered here to celebrate this occasion.”

Like a scene from a movie, light reflected off the golden wall behind them, casting a bright, halo-like glow.

“Furthermore, the appearance of a saintess after a century in this era must surely be a blessing from the Goddess of Abundance. An empire under the goddess’s protection will be filled with nothing but radiant prosperity.”

“For the little sun, His Imperial Highness Crown Prince Ellucian!”

Amid the cheers, Edith, who had been blankly watching the heroine, felt a strangely despondent mood welling up within her. It was as if the brighter the scene before her, the more she was consumed by the dark depths below. Once the feeling took hold, it plunged endlessly downward.

[Status: Melancholy (39%)]

Outside Edith’s field of view, the status window seemed to announce its presence, its numerical value glowing a slow, ominous red.

Her legs felt like someone was pinning them down. She finally managed to move, deciding she needed a glass of wine, and headed toward the tables laden with food and drink.

Then, in an instant, the crowd surging forward to greet the banquet’s main guests overwhelmed her. As if she were some invisible obstacle, people shoved past. She cried out and fell. The absurdity of the situation left her stunned.

“Oh my, heavens… Are you alright, young lady?” a plump noblewoman asked, bending over Edith where she lay on the floor.

“Who is that young lady? I’ve never seen her before…”

“You know, the one from that upstart family that bought their title… the Moulton viscountcy…”

As attention focused on the fallen Edith and someone mentioned Viscount Moulton, the whispers began.

“The one who always hides in the corner? She really does have a gloomy, unpleasant look about her.”

“The viscount’s daughter? I’ve heard… unfavorable rumors…”

The hall went quiet as if splashed with cold water, then everyone began whispering behind their fans.

The moment her identity was revealed, the whispers shifted from concern to ridicule. That unpleasant sensation she’d felt since earlier surged up from the floor, threatening to swallow her whole.

‘What is this? What kind of life did Edith lead for me to feel this way?’

‘It’s strange. An overwhelming sense of rejection…’

[Warning! The Melancholy Level has exceeded 50%! Entering Panic State!]

‘Panic? What does that mean, wait…!’

‘My’ internal cry was trapped within. The whispers grew distant, her vision darkened, and the final thing she saw was the warning window flashing a vicious, rapid red. Then, ‘I’ lost consciousness.

* * *

Knight Commander Carlton finished exchanging reports with the last patrol. The weather, just at the cusp of spring after winter, was still too chilly for light clothing. He hurried toward the Great Hall where the banquet was being held, adjusting his cloak.

Today was the historic day his master, the First Prince, was invested as Crown Prince. To ensure security was tighter than ever, he had left the interior hall to his deputy and was now returning after a thorough perimeter check.

Huff…

“Who goes there?”

While crossing the central garden, a sound caught Carlton’s attention. He focused, pushing through the garden toward the noise. Someone was huddled and weeping beneath a bush of red camellias.

Startled by his voice, the already small figure flinched and looked up at him.

Just then, the moon, temporarily hidden by clouds, revealed itself again. In the bright moonlight, the mysterious person’s appearance became clear.

Hair like a starry night sky, a mess of shining strands, was disheveled everywhere. Following the tear tracks up from flushed, cold-reddened cheeks, he met a pair of dark, rabbit-like eyes, glistening wetly, staring back at him.

For some inexplicable reason, as their eyes met, Carlton felt a surge of elation, like an explorer who had just discovered a long-hidden treasure.

“Young lady, of which house are you? If you require assistance, I shall provide it.”

“Help me…”

“Yes, my lady. Have you lost your way? Shall I escort you back to the banquet hall?”

At the mention of the banquet hall, the young lady, who had been crying incessantly, suddenly lunged and clung to him. He could have easily stopped her abrupt action.

But it felt less like an embrace and more like her desperately holding him back. Her face was pale, and her weak struggles were not threatening in the least.

“No! I don’t want to go back there! I mustn’t go back!”

“Please calm down, my lady. Then, to return to your estate, we should head to where the carriages are…”

Carlton had no thought of prying the young lady off him, instead trying to soothe her.

“C-Couldn’t you… stay with me, Sir Knight?”

“What?”

Her unexpected words froze him in place.

“If it’s not too much… just until the night passes… Please, stay with me…”

To Carlton, a knight commander whose only point of contact with women was his loyalty to the First Prince—now Crown Prince—this young lady, who suddenly flung herself at him with a terrified expression, was impossible to refuse.

Stay with her through the night? Even a blockhead would understand the implication. And for a young lady who was clearly a stranger to say such things, akin to women in back alleys… her words and actions felt dangerous.

Yet, despite this thought, Carlton felt strangely bewitched, unable to refuse the peculiar sensation.

A conflict arose within him. Should he ignore this clearly distressed young lady, escort her to a lounge in the banquet hall, or follow his current instincts?

His reason sent warnings: This is a disaster, harboring such feelings for a young lady whose house you don’t even know, despite hearing such words. But his instincts, coupled with an inexplicable possessiveness and a heat pooling low in his abdomen, pulled him the other way.