Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

"Don't you see that I'm the one who cared about you?!"

The words tore from her throat, raw and trembling, cracking under the weight of everything she had buried for years.

Her voice—usually measured, controlled—was wild now, hysterical.

"I was the one who stayed!" she cried, her body trembling as she stepped closer. "I was the one who watched over you! I was the one who made sure you were never alone!"

Her breath hitched, her heart pounding against her ribs like it wanted to tear free.

"And her? What did she ever do? She just took! Took and took and took—until there was nothing left of you!"

Her silver-blue eyes burned with something desperate, something dangerous.

Madeleina's breath came out in ragged gasps, her entire body trembling as the dam inside her shattered completely.

There was no composure left.

No grace.

No carefully measured words.

Only raw, unfiltered rage.

"She used you!" she shrieked, her voice breaking as she stepped closer, her silver-blue eyes wild. "She used her illness as a privilege! As a barrier! And you—" she let out a sharp, bitter laugh, "you let her!"

Her breath hitched, her vision swimming.

"She took and took and took! And no one could say anything, no one could stop it, because poor, sickly, fragile Lady Aeliana had to be protected!"

Her spit flew from her lips, but she didn't care.

Didn't care that her hair clung to her face, damp with sweat.

Didn't care that her voice had lost its elegance, that it cracked with every word.

Didn't care that she must have looked utterly pathetic.

Because what did it matter?

What did anything matter, when he still didn't see it?

"And you still don't see it?!"

Her chest heaved, her throat raw from screaming.

"And you still think if she continued to live, you would have been happier?"

Her hands shook violently at her sides, her nails digging into her palms so hard she thought she might bleed.

"If she had lived, Duke—" her voice wavered, but she forced the words out anyway, "you would have never—never—been free!"

Her breath came out in a shudder, her head spinning.

She was ugly now.

Messy.

Ruined.

And she didn't care.

Not anymore.

The chamber was silent.

Heavy.

Suffocating.

Madeleina's ragged breaths were the only sound, her chest rising and falling unevenly, her hands still trembling at her sides.

And yet—

Neither Duke Thaddeus nor Aeliana spoke.

They stood frozen, their gazes unsteady, their bodies shaky.

Even Aeliana—who had been seething with rage, who had lunged at her, who had dug her nails into her skin—now looked uncertain.

Like, for a fleeting moment, some part of her had been struck by Madeleina's words.

"….."

Still, they said nothing.

Madeleina swallowed, her throat raw, her entire body shaking.

And then—

"I just wanted you to be free."

Her voice cracked as she spoke.

"That's it."

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Everything she had done—every step, every choice, every betrayal—had been for him.

For the man she had watched suffer. For the man who had buried himself in grief, in duty, in chains of his own making.

She had only wanted to set him free.

To give him back the future he deserved.

That was all.

That was all.

And then—

"Bullshit."

The word cut through the silence like a knife.

Cold. Unforgiving.

Madeleina's breath hitched.

Slowly, she turned her head.

And there he was.

Luca.

His black eyes locked onto hers.

But this time—

They weren't playful.

They weren't amused.

They weren't watching her like a spectator enjoying a show.

They were cold.

Cold in a way that made something deep in her chest twist.

None of those reasons are correct.

He hadn't spoken yet, but she felt the words in the way he looked at her.

Then—

"You did not do any of this out of selflessness," Luca said, his voice steady, unwavering. "It was your own greed."

A sharp breath caught in her throat.

But before she could speak, before she could even gather her thoughts, he continued.

"You couldn't stand her, could you?" His tone was almost clinical, like he was dissecting her, laying her open piece by piece. "Not just Aeliana—but her mother as well. From the moment you entered these halls, from the moment you devoted yourself to the Duke, you hated them."

Madeleina's body tensed.

Wrong.

He was wrong.

But Luca—he wasn't looking for her response. He wasn't waiting for her denial.

Because he already knew.

"You couldn't understand it," he said, voice dropping lower, sharper. "How someone like her—fragile, passive, never lifting a single finger—was the center of everything. How she could do nothing and still hold all of his attention, all of his care, all of his love."

Each word was a hammer against her skull, driving into the thoughts she had buried deep.

"You—" he pointed at her now, his finger extending toward her heart, pressing directly against the fabric over her blossom.

Madeleina flinched.

Not from pain.

But because it felt like he had reached inside her.

His touch was nothing. Just a finger. Just pressure against fabric.

And yet—

Her pulse pounded against it like a trapped bird.

"You, who have never felt the loss of someone you wanted to save—" Luca's voice did not waver, did not soften. "You, who have never had to stand over a dying body and know that no matter what you did, no matter what you gave, you could never take their place—"

The words struck like a whip.

He leaned in slightly, eyes never leaving hers.

"You couldn't understand."

Madeleina's breath came shallow, uneven.

She wanted to speak. She wanted to push him away, to tell him that he was wrong, that he didn't know anything.

But she couldn't.

Because his words kept coming.

"You thought that with Aeliana gone," Luca continued, "you would be the one consoling the Duke."

Her nails bit into her palms.

"You would be the one bandaging his wounds."

Her throat clenched.

"And in the process—" his voice softened, just slightly, but the force behind it did not wane, "you would overwrite everything."

Luca tilted his head slightly, watching her now with something like understanding.

Not sympathy.

Not pity.

Understanding.

Because he had seen people like her before.

"You only wanted to make everything about yourself."

The words were soft. Almost gentle.

And somehow, that made them even crueler.

"Anything wrong with what I said?"

As she heard this she couldn't say anything.

Since she could feel it.

The truth in his words.

It coiled around her, thick and suffocating, wrapping itself around her ribs, around her throat, digging in.

Madeleina's lips parted, but no sound came out.

Nothing.

Not a single word.

Because what could she say?

"That's not true?"

But it was.

"I didn't want that?"

But she did.

Luca smiled.

Not his usual smirk, not that playful amusement he always carried like an afterthought.

This was something else.

Sharper.

Colder.

"See." His voice was quiet, but it carried through the room, filling every corner. "Even you know that my words are correct."

The chamber seemed smaller now.

The walls closer.

The air tighter.

Madeleina's breath came shallow, rapid, her fingers twitching at her sides.

Because he had said it.

He had laid her bare.

He had taken everything she thought she had justified, every noble reason she had convinced herself of, every truth she had built her world upon—

And he had torn it apart.

Reduced it to greed.

To jealousy.

To something selfish.

Her head spun.

She wanted to deny it.

Wanted to scream. Wanted to tear him apart for looking at her like that, for speaking like he had reached inside her and dragged her soul out into the open.

But she couldn't.

Because there was nothing left to say.

Nothing left to fight back with.

"I see…."

And the Duke finally spoke.