The morning sunlight spilled through the tall windows of the Valeris manor, touching polished marble floors and gilded frames. Outside, birds chirped as if nothing unusual could ever happen here. Inside, Niana Velaris sipped her tea, her fingers brushing the delicate porcelain.
Finally, she thought, a peaceful morning. No balls, no monsters, no princes starring at me like I'm the story's unexpected variable.
Lucien appeared in the doorway, movement calm, precise as ever. Even when carrying troubling news, he never betrayed a flicker of emotion. His hands were empty, but his posture was enough to make anyone uneasy.
"Mistress," he said, voice smooth, almost too composed. "I have news. You should attend the council immediately."
Niana blinked, mid-sip. The tea dribbled dangerously close to her lip. "Council? At… nine? I thought this morning was for… breakfast and… uh, planning my schedule for today."
Lucien did not flinch. Not even a hint of amusement. "The council will convene in thirty minutes. The King has deemed this urgent."
Niana nearly choked on her tea. "Urgent? Calm down! What's happening? Did a chandelier fall? Did someone steal the royal pudding?!"
Lucien's expression remained ice-cold. "Neither. Monsters."
Her cup slipped. She barely caught it. "…Monsters? In the… city?"
"Yes," Lucien replied simply, almost too calmly. "Outside the southern gates. Citizens were injured. Reports indicate… abnormal strength and organization."
Niana's stomach sank. She could feel the pull of the story in her chest. This is… not supposed to happen yet. The monster attack in her plot was supposed to be weeks from now. She should have time to prepare. Time to do nothing but observe.
Her mind raced as she jumped to her feet. "Okay. Okay, so… monsters. Got it. Got it. So… what do I do? I'm… I'm a Duchess. I… yes, I'm a Keeper of the Divine Word. I have… uh… powers?"
Lucien's eyes flicked over her. Sharp. Calculating. He folded his arms. "Mistress, your role—observing, protecting, understanding the Divine Word—remains the same. Your presence at the council is required. Action will follow as necessary."
She opened her mouth, ready to argue—but paused. Lucien's calm tone made her nerves coil. He never raised his voice. He never gestured dramatically. But somehow, the gravity behind his words spoke louder than any scream.
"Right… so… monsters. Got it. I… I'll be careful. I'll sit quietly and… not die."
Lucien inclined his head. "Wise."
---
By the time they reached the council chamber, the room buzzed with activity. Nobles murmured over reports. Maps were spread across long tables. Guards in polished armor moved in quiet precision. The usual bustle of court was here—but underlined with tension.
The King stood at the front, face set, shoulders squared. The Queen beside him looked calm yet piercing. "These monsters are different," she said, voice echoing through the chamber. "They have strength unlike anything we have faced in recent decades. The southern villages report structures destroyed, livestock gone, and even trained soldiers injured."
Niana sat quietly, hands folded in her lap, pretending to take notes. Her mind, however, raced. This is exactly the moment the story begins. The first chapter. I know this. I wrote it. But why… why now?
Kael entered last, silent and commanding. Every head turned instinctively. Even Niana's. She gripped the edge of the table subtly, heart hammering.
The King gestured toward him. "Prince Kael will lead a squad to confront this threat. Those chosen will depart immediately."
A hush fell. Eyes darted between Kael and the scattered nobles.
Niana's pulse jumped. This is the chapter I've read a hundred times. The first action. The first mission. And I'm… here. Watching it unfold.
Then, Kael's gaze swept over the room.
…and paused.
On her.
Her stomach dropped.
No. Not now. Not like this. Please—this isn't me. I'm not supposed to matter yet. That's the heroine's role…
Kael's lips curved in the faintest smile—not cruel, not teasing—but observant. Calculating.
Lucien, at her side, shifted imperceptibly. He had already known she would react. His eyes flicked toward the southern maps, then back to her. Quiet. Ever-watchful. Silent judgment.
Niana forced herself to nod subtly, trying to remain calm. I can do this. I am a supporting character. I just… sit here and look pretty while chaos happens.
And yet, as the council began assigning squads, Niana couldn't shake the feeling that her story—and her life—had just flipped its first page in a very wrong direction.
The first step toward the monsters had begun.
…and she was standing right in the center, story be damned.
---
The sun was barely peeking over the eastern walls when Niana followed Kael out of the council chamber. The castle gates had opened to the clatter of hooves, the smell of leather and horses filling the air. Her dress had been swapped for a simpler riding outfit—a dark blue tunic with silver embroidery, leather boots, and a cloak that brushed the ground.
Lucien walked just behind her, cloak flowing like a shadow. His calm presence contrasted sharply with Niana's racing thoughts. Why am I even here? I'm a supporting character… I shouldn't be riding into monster territory. Not yet. I should still be… safe…
Kael glanced at her once, as if measuring her courage. "Duchess Velaris, remain behind the main squad if necessary," he said politely, but there was a weight to the command that made it impossible to ignore.
"Yes… yes, of course," Niana mumbled, gripping the reins with white-knuckled hands. Support, observe, survive… that's the plan. Just survive.
Lucien leaned slightly closer, voice low. "Mistress, remember what we discussed. Observe, protect, and do not draw attention. You are not meant to fight."
"Not fight. Got it. Just… survive." Her stomach flipped. "Just survive."
The group rode out of the city and into the forested path leading to the southern villages. Birds scattered at the horses' approach, the forest quieting into a tense stillness. Niana tried to focus on the scenery, but her eyes kept darting toward the treeline, toward every shadow. I wrote this scene. I know what's coming. I know someone dies first… please let it not be me…
Kael rode at the front, silent and imposing. His black hair shimmered in the morning light. Eyes like steel scanned every inch of the forest. Niana couldn't help but notice the grace in every movement—the same Prince Kael she had drawn, composed, unshakable, infuriatingly perfect.
A sudden rustle in the bushes stopped everyone in their tracks.
One of the squires—bright-eyed, young, and clearly meant to be the first casualty—reached for his sword. "M-monsters!" he stammered.
Before Niana could breathe, Lucien's hand shot out to steady her horse. Calm. Controlled. A small reminder: Don't panic, Mistress.
From the shadows, a massive figure emerged—a hulking, snarling creature, teeth like jagged shards of obsidian. Its eyes glowed faintly, unnatural and cruel.
Niana froze. This is it. This is the moment. The first death. I… I'm here instead. I'm in the story.
Kael swung his sword in a fluid motion, cutting a swath through the trees. "Keep your distance! Stay behind the line!"
Niana's horse whinnied. She gripped the reins tighter. Lucien's eyes met hers, calm and deadly. He didn't speak—he didn't need to. She understood: stay alive, stay smart, and do not be the first to die.
The squire lunged forward, panicked, swinging wildly. Niana's heart hammered. She knew he was supposed to die here. Not me… not me…
Lucien's hand brushed her arm. "Mistress, move closer to me. Now."
She did. Her horse shifted beside his. The creature roared, teeth snapping, claws raking at the nearest tree. Niana swallowed her fear. Observe. Protect. Survive. Just survive…
For the first time, she realized that her knowledge of the story gave her a dangerous advantage—but also painted a target on her back. The world expected her to fail, to remain a passive observer. But she wasn't passive anymore.
She squared her shoulders. Supporting character or not… I'm not going to die first.
And in the shadows of the forest, with Kael leading, Lucien watching, and monsters closing in, Niana Valeris made a silent vow: she would rewrite her own story—one carefully measured step at a time.