Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into A Novel As An Extra Mga Nobela at Kwento

[Dear Transmigrator, So, you died again. I was half-hoping that you wouldn't be reading this letter, but you are back here already. How sad! Just kidding. I am not sad. Now, you know the difficulty level of this novel. All the characters are nuts. I pity you though. I didn't die like this. You haven't finished one-third of the last part in the story and you are already here. Do you feel like cursing now? Go ahead.

​"TRANSLATION: THE AUTHOR... IS... RECYCLING." ​"He’s being repurposed," Nora realized, her silver-streaked eyes flaring. "The 'Ink-Man' couldn't kill him, so he’s trying to use Papa’s 'Friction' to fuel a different story. He’s being pulled into the Sub-Plot."

She had no reason to be happy that I was here. I stopped in front of her and crouched down so I was at her eye level. "What is wrong?" Milo held up a broken plastic toy. It was a small animal, a dinosaur maybe, and one of its legs had snapped off completely. The plastic was cheap and brittle, the kind that broke easily and could not be fixed with glue. "Someone accidentally stepped on it," she said, her voice small. "And now it cannot be used anymore." She looked down at the broken toy in her hands, and her lower lip trembled. I felt that twisting sensation in my chest again, stronger this time.

She stepped forward— And fell through. --- The reflections screamed: REWRITE INCOMPLETE! The End roared: ANCHOR MIGRATION SUCCESSFUL. And everything shattered again. But this time— Something remained. And somewhere far beyond the correction layer— Emma landed hard on unfamiliar ground. Breathing. Alive. Unwritten. And not alone. A shadow stood ahead of her. Waiting. Watching. And when it spoke— It wasn’t the man. It wasn’t the End. It was something older. “You were not supposed to escape twice.”

She disgusts me. I opened my mouth and mechanically ate the piece of apple. Once, I had believed Eden was my salvation. When my family tormented me until I was covered in emotional scars, he was the one who pulled me out of the darkness. When I was bullied at school, he was the one who held my trembling body tightly in his arms. He healed every wound I carried and made me believe I was loved. But now, I finally understood. He was a transmigrator from another world, and I was nothing more than his target.

I played it again. And again. And again. Until something in my chest started to split, not loudly. Quietly. Like fabric tearing beneath skin. Like grief folding in on itself. Like shame curdling behind the ribs. She was right. It would destroy Ixora. Not because of what she found out, but because of who she would have to become after. Because innocence doesn’t grow back once it’s been burned. Because she would stop being soft. Stop being safe. Because she would learn what I already knew:

The next morning, Jone would open his eyes to see Nile, who had mistakenly fallen asleep with their fingers hooked. The naive Jone would feel his cheeks burning up, and his heart would race uncontrollably. That was how he fell into the tumultuous trap. Falling for a Playboy young master. The blushing scene was a bit harder for Brewster to handle, but after one mistake, he was able to act it well, and the director gave him a pass, praising and handing him a bottle of water again. Jim felt like someone was about to snatch his cabbage from him... but he had no idea why he felt that way.

There was a trace of sorrow in the way he looked at me. He smiled gently. "You're welcome." Yet his gaze seemed to pass through me, as though he were looking at someone else. As time passed, my memories gradually merged, and I came to fully understand everything about this body's past. The abusive novel's male lead had tormented her relentlessly. But she had been hopelessly love-struck. No matter how badly she was hurt, she believed there was a place for her in his heart. In the end, he abused her to death.

The tray in my hand fell down with a thrashing sound as every delicate crockery placed in it was broken into pieces. “What happened to my memory. I don’t remember there was a wall here.” I murmured as I crouched down to pick up the broken glasses. They could hurt anybody and the moment I touched the sharp edge of a broken glass I hissed the same moment the light came back because I got a small cut on my hand but what made my eyes widened was the presence of someone’s shiny shoes beside my hand. I gulped. This can’t be true. There was no wall.