“Hero Association’s Agent Military Academy, Seoul Branch Graduation, Class of 2024, Rank 1 Cadet, Kim Suho.” The announcer’s voice boomed across the stadium, and my mind went blank. I blinked, glancing around at the sea of people in the bleachers, everyone craning their necks to get a good look at the podium. I was blending in nicely—just another guy lost in the crowd, a perfect background character. Déjà vu tickled my brain, and I squinted at my surroundings.

"Wait... where am I?"

I glanced down at myself, half-expecting to see my usual jeans and hoodie combo, but nope—military uniform, polished boots, and... oh, come on, was that a name tag?

I froze.

My mind raced. I knew this place. It was all too familiar—the bleachers, the ceremony, the unnerving amount of pomp and circumstance. And then it hit me like a runaway truck: I was in a novel. Inside a novel. Specifically, The Novel's Extra.

I had read it... and reread it… and even skimmed through the manhwa. Now, here I was, smack in the middle of the story I’d devoured from the comfort of my couch. Well, not just any part of the story—this was the moment, the grand opening where everything kicks off. The protagonist’s award ceremony. The big deal.

And what was I doing? Standing in the bleachers like a confused extra who wandered onto set.

Great. Just great.

Inside the massive auditorium, packed with over 3,000 cadets and thousands more spectators, the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation. All eyes were locked on the stage, where the spotlight fell squarely on one man—Kim Suho, the Rank 1 Cadet, the hero among heroes, and the protagonist of this whole ridiculous story.

I watched as he made his way up to the stage, trying not to roll my eyes. His face was taut, his jaw clenched like he was holding back a sneeze, and while he was doing his best to look cool and composed, the sweat running down his temples wasn’t exactly helping. Still, this was typical Kim Suho—stoic, heroic, and just the right amount of awkward.

A soft chorus of gasps and squeals erupted from the female section of the crowd as he passed.

"That’s Kim Suho? Oh my gosh~" one girl whispered to her friend, sounding like she was on the verge of passing out.

"He’s so handsome," another gushed, her eyes practically sparkling like she’d walked into a K-drama.

I resisted the urge to gag. Honestly, the guy looked like he’d walked straight off the cover of a magazine—tall, muscular, with a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. But come on, this was Kim Suho—the golden boy whose whole existence revolved around saving the day.

As he reached the podium, murmurs rippled through the audience, some filled with admiration, others tinged with bitterness. I caught snippets of conversation around me, some of it less-than-flattering.

"Lucked out with his gift. What a bastard," one guy behind me muttered, crossing his arms. "Like anyone could’ve pulled that off with the crap he was handed."

I almost laughed. Luck? Yeah, sure, if "luck" included fighting life-and-death battles every other Tuesday and carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Suho’s gift might’ve been strong, but it wasn’t a free ride to the top. I mean, I’d read this story—multiple times. I knew exactly what this guy had been through.

But here I was, standing in the bleachers like some NPC while the protagonist soaked up all the attention. As the applause thundered around me, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit… out of place. How did I even get here? Why wasn’t I waking up from this weird fever dream? Was this karma for binge-reading novels at 3 a.m.?

Whatever the case, one thing was clear: I wasn’t just a spectator anymore.

God help me.

"Yeah, Sword Saint Gift from what I hear. Totally broken. That Kim Suho guy…" some random cadet behind me grumbled, clearly salty about not being blessed by the universe with godlike abilities.

I tuned him out, though, because—well, sure, Suho’s gift was OP, but let’s face it, that was the least interesting part of this whole circus.

At first glance, you could tell Kim Suho was the protagonist, no questions asked. The guy practically radiated main character energy—heroic, noble, with that signature ‘I-was-born-to-save-the-world’ look on his face. I could’ve picked him out of a lineup without even knowing the story, which, I’ll admit, made me feel a little special. I mean, recognizing the protagonist of a story inside a story? It’s like having a superpower, right?

…Not that I was delusional or anything. Let’s be real—Suho was the hero, but I wasn’t here for him. No, Kim Suho wasn’t the main character I was hunting for in this sea of extras.

I was looking for the Extra. The one who, despite being written off by most, would carve out his own place in this messed-up world. The guy who made being an underdog look like an art form.

Kim Hajin.

The real star of the show, hiding in plain sight like the pro that he was. Well, theoretically hiding. In reality, it was going to be like finding a needle in a haystack because this auditorium was packed with people. Rows upon rows of cadets, spectators, and staff, all blending into a massive crowd. Trying to spot Hajin in here? Yeah, good luck with that. The guy was probably suffering the same kind of existential crisis I was, trying to make sense of this whole "I’m in a novel" situation.

I sighed, pinching my cheeks hard enough to leave red marks. "Ow."

Great, so this wasn’t a dream. I wasn’t going to wake up in my bed, groggy and cursing at the alarm clock, any time soon. No, this was real. The pain was real. I was stuck in a novel.

I briefly considered that maybe if my obnoxious elder sister kicked me in the shin right now, that might do the trick. External stimuli, right? Maybe she’d barge into my room, all 'what-the-hell-are-you-doing-sleeping-in,' and I’d snap out of this weird fever dream.

But nope. No such luck. Instead, I was here, surrounded by a thousand sweaty cadets, while the universe's favorite protagonist took his victory lap.

"Sigh… I hope I’m dreaming," I muttered internally. But the throbbing in my cheeks said otherwise.

And now, on top of everything, I had to find a way to track down Kim Hajin. Which, given the sheer number of people here, was about as easy as trying to pick out a single grain of rice from a buffet.

Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't be a total disaster.

Yeah, right.

I took a deep breath and tried to wrap my head around the absurdity of my situation. Internally, I began piecing everything together, like solving a puzzle that was just a little too trippy to make sense.

So, the novel The Novel’s Extra was about Kim Hajin, an author who gets sucked into his own story—The Returnee Hero. He finds himself in his own novel after getting an email requesting a remake, and boom, he’s suddenly part of the world he created. As the plot progresses, he ends up teaming up with the story’s main protagonist, Kim Suho, to save the world from a fate worse than death. Typical world-saving stuff, nothing new in the realm of fiction.

That much, I got.

But this was where things started to get really weird. I wasn’t Kim Hajin, obviously. I was just a random dude who happened to answer some online survey about my favorite novel, which, of course, was The Novel’s Extra. I remembered filling it out, listing all the reasons why I loved the novel—Hajin’s wit, the unique take on being an extra in your own story, the self-aware humor—and after clicking “submit,” I… fell into a daze.

And then, like magic, or the worst prank in history, I ended up here.

In the actual story. Inside a novel about a guy who got sucked into his own novel, which was about a guy who… ugh, my brain hurt just thinking about it.

So, to recap:

1. The Returnee Hero by Kim Hajin. The protagonist is Kim Suho.

2. The Novel’s Extra by Jee Gab Song. The protagonist is Kim Hajin.

And now? Me? Well, I was neither Kim Hajin nor Kim Suho. But somehow, I’d been dragged into this convoluted mess, living through The Novel’s Extra like some uninvited guest.

And unlike Hajin, I hadn’t written any of this. I had no control, no authorial power to change the narrative, no cheats to rely on. I wasn’t some overpowered transmigrator, and my knowledge of the plot wasn’t exactly going to give me an edge when I was just one guy lost in a crowd of thousands.

I was, essentially, an extra in The Novel’s Extra—ironic, right?

I rubbed my temples, trying to stave off the incoming headache. “This is seriously messed up…”

But despite how surreal everything felt, I couldn’t help but wonder—was this fate? Destiny? Some cosmic joke? Or was it that stupid survey’s fault? Either way, I was here, and unless some miracle happened, I wasn’t waking up in my bed any time soon.

The auditorium was still buzzing with the energy of the ceremony, Kim Suho basking in the applause as he stood tall on stage. Meanwhile, I stood here, half-expecting some kind of divine intervention—or at least a clue to why the hell I was here.

And now, my top priority wasn’t to figure out the meaning of life or heroism. It was simple:

Find Kim Hajin.

Because if anyone could help make sense of this, it was the guy who wrote the damn book.

“Hey,” I blurted out, without bothering to be polite. “Can I borrow your sunglasses?”

I pointed to the shades on her face, the kind of accessory that screamed, "I'm too cool for this," despite us being indoors, in an auditorium, with no sunlight in sight. Who wears sunglasses inside? I thought she must be a bit eccentric, but who cared? I had bigger problems.

The woman next to me, seemingly unfazed by my rudeness, continued talking into her earpiece. “We call dibs on that kid, so don’t touch—”

Wait. That voice. That exact line. My brain short-circuited for a moment as I processed her words. As she turned slightly toward me, her face partially obscured by the shades, I froze.

Yun Seung-Ah.

Yun. Freaking. Seung-Ah.

Her sunglasses didn’t hide the fact that she was one of the most important people in The Novel’s Extra. As soon as I recognized her distinct features—sharp jawline, sleek black hair, and that ever-present air of confidence—I was sure. She was the future right-hand woman to Kim Suho and a major player in the whole ‘saving the world’ thing.

I blinked. Yun Seung-Ah. Right here. Sitting next to me.

The sheer absurdity of it nearly made me laugh. I was asking for her sunglasses, of all things.

But instead of laughing, I frowned. My mind started pulling at the loose threads of memory from my scattered knowledge of the novel and manhwa. Hold up—wasn’t Yun Seung-Ah supposed to be up in some VIP section, mingling with the bigwigs, not down here with the plebs like me?

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Unless… No, wait. The novel and the manhwa had slightly different events. Maybe she was moving differently in this version of the story? Or maybe I just remembered it wrong. Either way, the fact that Yun Seung-Ah was sitting next to me wasn’t something I could brush off.

“Excuse me?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, clearly irritated at my request. But there was a tiny flicker of recognition in her expression, like she was sizing me up. “Why do you want my sunglasses?”

Okay. Stay cool. Stay cool. I was talking to someone who was about to become one of the most powerful people in this world, and I was asking her for sunglasses. I realized how dumb that sounded.

I cleared my throat. “Uh… You see, I’m kind of dealing with an identity crisis right now,” I said, which, technically, wasn’t a lie. “So, could I just borrow them for, like, five seconds? I swear I’ll give them right back.”

She stared at me for a long moment, clearly weighing whether I was an idiot or just insane. “An identity crisis? That’s your excuse?”

I nodded. Earnestly. Because what else was I going to say? “Yep. Exactly.”

"Crazy kid…” She sighed deeply, shaking her head before finally relenting. “Fine. But five seconds. If you scratch them, I’ll have you arrested for property damage.”

“Deal,” I said quickly, grabbing the sunglasses from her hand like I was being handed the Holy Grail.

I slipped them on and squinted through the darkened lenses. Did they help me see the plot clearer? No. Was I any closer to finding Kim Hajin? Still no. But somehow, having these on made me feel… cool… I just thought her sunglasses was cool, so I had to try them on…

Yun Seung-Ah glared at me, clearly unimpressed by my complete disregard for basic human decency. Her sunglasses, now perched on my face, gave me the kind of look that screamed ‘main character, but obnoxious.’

"Eh?" she said, her voice dripping with disdain, revealing a sharp eyebrow raised in pure annoyance. "What a rude brat… In my day, kids knew respect." She tried to get the sunglasses back—

I let out a half-hearted apology, barely muttering, “Sorry,” before—like a man on a mission—I slapped her hand right off the bat with a smooth, non-hostile (but undeniably rude) speed. Even if she was superhuman, she was caught off-guard. I had a single goal in mind: to see how I looked in this strange new reality. I dragged the glasses and used it like a mirror.

As I glanced into the reflective surface, I saw my face, now five years younger, staring back at me. “Not bad,” I mumbled, totally unaware that I’d said it out loud.

The sight of my rejuvenated self was a silver lining I didn’t even know I needed. Sure, I’d been dragged into this chaotic world with no rhyme or reason, but hey, I looked great. Five years younger, a little fresher, and with the chance to live through this story? I could work with that. Besides, wasn’t this world filled with heroes? They’d fix everything eventually, right? The end of the world would come and go, but I’d be here, playing it cool, keeping a low profile, and investing in the right stocks while the main characters handled the heavy lifting.

Suddenly, I could see it—a future where I’d emerge from this bizarre novel, rich, powerful, and completely unbothered by whatever fate had in store for me. I was already imagining the dividends rolling in as I wisely stayed in the background, letting Kim Suho and company save the world.

I was just about to indulge in another daydream about my future mansion when Yun Seung-Ah’s voice snapped me back to reality.

“Such a narcissist… Disgusting…” she sneered, her expression twisted in annoyance as she grabbed the sunglasses back from me, her movements sharp and deliberate.

I couldn’t even blame her. I probably looked like an idiot, using her shades as a mirror to admire my own reflection, grinning like I’d just won the lottery.

“Well, I didn’t ask to be dropped into a novel,” I muttered under my breath, a little salty at how quickly my fantasy had been shattered.

Yun Seung-Ah, still glaring at me, didn’t seem to care. She put her shades back on, mumbling something about kids these days and how far basic manners had fallen. I shrugged. No point in explaining myself. It wasn’t like I could tell her I was stuck in a fictional universe and just wanted to check if my face had hit the reset button. That wouldn’t exactly make me sound any less crazy.

Still, as I looked around the auditorium, my mind drifted back to the bigger picture. Kim Suho was standing proudly on stage, basking in the glow of his achievements, while Yun Seung-Ah had been scouting him out for her guild. From what I remembered of The Novel’s Extra, Cube, the school where Suho and Hajin trained, had a policy that cadets couldn’t be recruited before graduation. It made sense the Agent Military Academy had something similar in place. With special talents like Kim Suho, it was only natural that guilds would be vying for them, trying to snatch them up as soon as possible.

And Yun Seung-Ah, in the future, would play a pretty pivotal role in Suho’s life. At least, that’s how it went in The Returnee Hero, which I hadn’t read but heard enough about. I only really knew her from The Novel’s Extra, where she was Kim Suho’s future love interest, a major player in the hero world.

But right now, all I had was a one-sided beef with her. Why? No reason, really. Maybe it was her attitude. Maybe it was the fact that she always seemed to look down on everyone. Or maybe it was because she interrupted my perfectly good stock-market daydream.

“Hey, give me your sunglasses,” I repeated, this time with a little less conviction. There was no way she’d hand them over again after that little display.

Sure enough, she shot me a withering look and muttered, “Get your own.”

Touché.

I couldn’t blame her for misunderstanding my motives. From her perspective, I was probably just some narcissistic weirdo trying to admire himself in public. Which, I suppose, wasn’t entirely wrong.

I couldn’t help but stew in my own mixed feelings. Why didn’t I like Yun Seung-Ah? It wasn’t just her attitude or her position as some untouchable elite. No, I had to be real with myself. I was jealous—jealous of this senior who was nearly ten years older than Kim Suho, yet somehow, the author had decided that their ship would eventually sail. How? How did that even make sense? Even now, having been thrown into this bizarre world, I still couldn’t wrap my head around it. What was the logic behind pairing them up?

But enough of that. I needed to act like a functioning person, so I cleared my throat and made my best attempt at a sincere apology.

“I apologize,” I said, putting on my best ‘I’m-really-sorry-and-not-just-awkward’ voice. “I actually have short-term-mild-amnesia and forgot how I looked. I thought I should be five years older by now.” I added a bit of seriousness to my tone, as if that would make my nonsense sound more believable.

Yun Seung-Ah stared at me for a moment, clearly processing whether I was completely off my rocker or not. “O-ok…” she finally said, though it sounded more like she was cautiously accepting my apology to avoid further awkwardness.

I sighed internally. Crisis averted—for now.

Turning my attention back to the stage, I absentmindedly grabbed the cup of soft drink next to me. I took a long sip, trying to calm my nerves. I needed the sugar. The nerves of being stuck in a novel were fraying me, and I had to get a grip on things.

“Hey, that’s mine! You freaking thief!” Yun Seung-Ah suddenly snapped, her voice cutting through my brief moment of peace.

I froze. The cup in my hand—definitely not mine. In my absent-mindedness, I’d just swiped Yun Seung-Ah’s drink. Before I could apologize or explain myself, though, the universe decided to play a cruel joke on me.

Because that’s when it happened.

“Class of 2024, Rank 2 Cadet, Chae Nayun.”

The moment that name hit my ears, my body reacted before my brain could even process it. I spit the drink out in sheer shock, and of course, because fate hates me, the trajectory of the spit sent the sugary liquid directly into Yun Seung-Ah’s face.

It wasn’t intentional. At least, I didn’t think it was intentional. But that didn’t matter. Yun Seung-Ah was now dripping with soda, her face frozen in a mix of disgust and pure rage. My stomach churned violently, my brain trying to process the fact that Chae Nayun was Rank 2 in this world. That one revelation alone was enough to send me spiraling into a mental black hole of terrible, terrifying implications.

The crowd stirred as Kim Suho and Chae Nayun stood side by side on stage, basking in the glory of their achievements. Chae Nayun, with her long brown hair and that ever-present confident smirk, raised her fist to the cheering crowd, shouting ‘fighting’ with all the charisma that I remembered her having in the story.

Then her gaze shifted, and for a terrifying second, it looked like she was staring directly at me.

No. Not at me.

I whipped my head around, heart pounding in my chest, only to find him. Standing a few rows behind me, his frown deepening as if he, too, was trying to make sense of this chaos.

Kim Hajin. The Extra. The man with the gun.

His black hair was tousled in that careless way, his expression as dull and clueless as ever, exactly how I remembered him from Chapter Zero of The Novel’s Extra. This was where the prologue had kicked off. This was where the story within the story began.

But something was off. What the hell was going on?

This was… weird.

Really, really weird.

I stared at Hajin.

The Kim Hajin I saw began to distort, warping in ways I couldn’t comprehend. His form shifted, becoming a shadow of itself, a dark silhouette that made my heart skip several beats in panic. My body tensed up, every nerve on edge, and I couldn’t help but feel my pulse quicken from the sheer wrongness of what I was witnessing. There, standing just a few rows behind me, was no longer just Kim Hajin.

No, this wasn’t him anymore. Or, more accurately, this wasn’t entirely him yet.

Only I seemed to notice the bizarre phenomena unfolding. The crowd around us continued cheering for Kim Suho and Chae Nayun, blissfully unaware of the twisted reality morphing right before my eyes. My throat felt dry, but I forced myself to swallow, trying to comprehend what I was seeing. This person—this figure—could only be Kim Hajin.

Except… it wasn’t.

The face before me, the one I thought I knew from the novel, was in a state of constant flux. Kim Hajin’s current identity—Kim Chundong—stood there, his appearance blurring in and out like a mirage. His once jet-black hair began to lighten, turning a shade of brown that felt both unfamiliar and unsettling. It was like watching a glitch in the matrix, and just when I thought I could hold on to some semblance of recognition, his features dissolved completely into a haze. His face became a blank canvas, an eerie Question Mark staring back at me where his eyes should’ve been.

I froze. My mind struggled to keep up with the surreal scene in front of me.

I gulped involuntarily, feeling the weight of the situation settle in my gut like a stone. What I was witnessing wasn’t just some random occurrence or a trick of the light. No, this was something far more sinister. I was watching the very nature of Kim Hajin’s existence rewrite itself, usurping another person’s life. The real Kim Chundong was fading away, becoming a ghost, and in his place, Kim Hajin was taking root.

I had read about it—about how Kim Hajin’s transmigration wasn’t just a simple matter of crossing over into another world. He wasn’t just inhabiting another body; he was erasing someone else’s existence. And here, in real-time, I was seeing it play out, the boundaries of reality stretching, bending under the weight of a new narrative being forced upon it.

I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know how to feel. Should I have been horrified? Fascinated? Both? My brain couldn’t keep up with the flood of emotions and thoughts that crashed into me like a tidal wave.

Kim Hajin was becoming someone else. And the real Kim Chundong? He was being erased from this world, bit by bit.

I felt a cold sweat run down my spine.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the distortion stopped. The shadow disappeared, and standing there once again was Kim Chundong—except he wasn’t quite Kim Chundong anymore. He was Kim Hajin, at least to the rest of the world.

Reality was rewritten in front of me and it sent chills down my spine.

I knew the truth now.

The person before me was an impostor, and I had just witnessed the death of someone who should’ve existed.

I didn’t know whether to call it fate, or something far more terrifying.

I stared at Chae Nayun, trying to suppress the growing panic bubbling up inside me. The story—no, this world—was already spiraling out of control, far from anything I could have predicted. Kim Hajin’s confused expression mirrored mine as he stood there, likely trying to wrap his head around the changes as well. The stage was set for something huge, and I wasn’t ready for any of it.

And then I focused back on my priorities—

Why in the world was Chae Nayun standing there as the Rank 2 Cadet? Shin Jonghak was supposed to be up there, flexing his ego and making smug comments as Kim Suho’s rival. Not Chae Nayun. What the hell was she doing in his place? This wasn’t how the story was supposed to go.

And Kim Hajin... I had barely processed the whole shadowy usurping situation when this hit me. Why could I see Hajin’s real face for that brief, terrifying moment? It felt too early, too strange. Was the world breaking before my eyes?

I had to take a deep breath to stop myself from going into a full-blown existential crisis. Focus. Calm down. But as I tried to replay the events of the novel in my mind, things started to click in the worst possible way.

The [Miracle Stone].

The one reward from the Tower of Miracles that haunted the final chapters of The Novel’s Extra. Chae Nayun’s ultimate regret and desire to change the past—it was one of the most heartbreaking, tragic parts of the story. In the novel’s original timeline, Chae Nayun had used the [Miracle Stone] to reset her life, hoping to fix the unfixable, to turn back time and undo the mistakes she could never forgive herself for. But with that came the price—the key to the Demon King’s prison was that very stone. She had unknowingly paved the way for Baal, the Final Boss, to descend upon the world.

And now, here she was. As the Rank 2 Cadet. Which meant…

She had used the [Miracle Stone]. Already.

I gripped my head, pulling at my hair in sheer frustration. I could feel my heart racing, the implications slamming into me like a freight train. Chae Nayun’s presence here meant that this timeline was already altered. She wasn’t supposed to be Rank 2, she wasn’t supposed to be standing next to Kim Suho right now, smiling at the crowd.

But the worst part wasn’t that. The worst part was what her use of the [Miracle Stone] implied.

Chae Nayun’s actions had already set the wheels in motion for Baal’s descent. The Demon King would be unleashed upon the world, sooner than anyone could possibly know. And if that wasn’t terrifying enough… I remembered something even more terrifying.

There was only one Baal in the original timeline. One final boss.

But this was a second timeline. A reset. A second chance.

There would be two Baals.

Two. Demon. Kings.

I felt bile rising in my throat. What was worse than fighting a demon lord hell-bent on world destruction? Two demon lords hell-bent on world destruction.

"Baal my balls…" I muttered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. I felt a wave of mortification wash over me. This was too much. Way too much. I wasn’t ready to deal with one Baal, let alone two!

The future, the one I’d been trying to convince myself would be solved by the heroes like in the original story, suddenly felt a lot more bleak. And chaotic. And filled with double the Demon Kings. I was screwed. We were all screwed.

And Chae Nayun? She had no idea. No one did. Except for me, the poor idiot stuck in the bleachers, watching the world as we knew it edge closer to a catastrophic collision course.

I glanced back at Kim Hajin, wondering if he had any inkling of what was coming.