My name is Yu Seolah, and I'm 21 years old.

I am third-year student at Hanyang University in Seoul—at least, I was.

Now… I'm the daughter of a duke in some twisted blend of sci-fi and magic.

It happened one night when I was combing the library shelves for something to distract me from the endless grind of exams and deadlines. Tucked away in the farthest corner was a beaten-up book, barely legible on the spine—Wings of Dawn. The pages were old, smudged, but somehow… captivating. I could feel a strange pull the moment I unfurled the pages , the kind of pull that makes you think you're on the brink of something extraordinary, something....dangerous.

The world revolved around Arthur von Scit, the son of a Marquis, detailing everything from his training in the prestigious Imperial Academy to the harsh battlefield of the Human-Derelictus War,

Though as all crappy novels, obviously Arthur had to have his own harem, filled with your typical run off the mill rainbow haired cardboard cutout characters.

It seemed as if everything and everyone around Arthur merely existed to glorify and yes-man him, and don't get me started on those "face-slapping" and "Oops I accidentally stole your girl" moments, they were the worst.

I flipped page after page, the hours slipping away until the words seemed to blur. And then…

Nothing.

No ending, just a blank page, like the story itself had cut off before the final chapter.

And then as if on cue,

Somehow, I was here.

It was still me in a strange sense—my face, my features, just younger, thirteen to be exact. It didn't take long to figure out that I'd somehow been pulled into the world of Wings at Dawn, but not as anyone of importance. I was just… an extra, a character who'd never existed in the original story.

In the weeks that followed, I adapted. I learned to navigate the grand estates and intricate social layers of Sothis with ease, slipping into the routines of nobility as if I'd been born to it. My father, the Duke of Sothis, was a powerful man who barely needed to lift a finger to command obedience. He moved through rooms like a king, radiating an aura that drew people to him like planets to a star. Servants, retainers, and lower nobles fawned over him, being his daughter, I knew I had to play my part—smile when necessary, nod when appropriate and laugh when required.

But my real focus lay elsewhere.

To survive, I'd have to enroll at the Imperial Academy on Earth and ally with the protagonist, becoming a necessary part of his rise to power. I needed the right connections and influence to protect myself until I could find a way out of this fabricated world. If that meant tagging along in Arthur's harem like some fawning side character, then so be it.

My first target lay on Zerith, the empire's neglected backwater alley—a stark contrast to the opulence of Sothis. Where Sothis boasted grandeur and refinement, Zerith was an impoverished echo, a planet where the thin veneer of nobility barely masked the decay underneath. Here, the estates wore only faint traces of luxury, like faded memories of better days, with every facade patched and every corner fraying. The buildings seemed cobbled together in haste, as though the residents clung to the illusion of nobility by a thread.

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Tonight's so-called "festival" was no exception, a hollow attempt at celebration. Nobles wandered in worn, outdated finery, their laughter forced, almost brittle. It was less a festival than a gathering of survivalists, determined to show some semblance of pride despite their circumstances.

Unsurprisingly, my father relished the opportunity to visit this backwater alley, especially if it meant keeping Zerith's struggling Duke in line. He navigated the event with his usual air of disdainful control, a constant reminder to the dogs of Zerith of their place beneath him.

The local nobles flocked around my father, practically tripping over themselves to bow and scrape before him, each face wearing the same simpering expression. It was almost too easy to dismiss them as irrelevant—a dull chorus that faded into the background. I still remember the so-called Duke of Zerith, struggling to maintain his composure, his hand shaking every time he greeted my father, and how both the so-called "marquises" practically lay down at his feet as if he held them on a leash, owing him for their very lives

But what truly felt pitiful was the man who owned this territory.

I caught him loitering around in a corner of the festival with his red head bowed down and eyes darting around here and there.

What was his name Richard Balden?....I can't quite recall what my attendant told me....

All in all, the real reason for coming all the way to this barony in Zerith was to acquire something—a piece that, in seven years, the protagonist would eventually claim during the fall of Zerith at the hands of the Derelictus in the war. But why wait? I would take it first.

**********

When it comes to weapons, I've chosen the one thing I trust—guns. I've always known how to shoot, and in this world of mana and magic, few things are as reliable as a bullet. Bullets don't care about who you are; they hit the mark all the same.

I stood at the entrance of an alley, my presence as cold and inevitable as the darkness around me. The bandits froze when they saw me, their eyes widening in alarm. They weren't expecting someone like me—not here, not in this filthy corner of the city. I didn't belong here, not with these men, not in this stinking alley. But I was already here, and I had no intention of wasting the opportunity of testing the new found toys I had acquired earlier.

One of the bandits, clearly trying to maintain some shred of bravado, scoffed. "What's this? A noble lady here to play vigilante?"

He didn't get the chance to finish his sentence.

The sharp, precise crack of a mana-infused bullet sliced through the air, and he crumpled to the ground with a gasping scream. The others tensed, reaching for their weapons, but I was already aiming my guns, the mana flickering ominously in the barrels.

They weren't going to make it.

The alley was mine now.

The results were satisfying, I barely felt the effort required of having to aim my gun.

I turned my gaze towards the boy. He stood there, just a few feet away, a mess of scruffy hair and dirty clothes. He wasn't even looking at me, his eyes vacant, hollow, like he wasn't really there.

I could have killed him in that moment, and I doubt it would've mattered to him.

"You're lucky I came when I did," I said, my voice flat, without a hint of sympathy. It wasn't my job to save people like him. Hell, it wasn't my job to save anyone at all. But I had the power, and sometimes, it was enough to make the world bend to your will.

I watched him for a moment longer, but I didn't feel anything. He wasn't part of my story nor was he a part of Arthurs story. Fate had probably forgotten him a long time ago.

With a final glance, I turned away, my boots making no sound as I slipped back into the labyrinth of the city.

There was nothing here for me

There was nothing here for him either.

He would just fade into the darkness like

a forgotten nobody in a world that had no place for him.