Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Mireilla lay on the edge of the massive bed, not under the covers, but atop them—as if too much comfort might swallow her whole.

The mattress was too soft. The air too still. The silence too curated.

She had grown up learning that even quiet came with price tags. And this one felt… steep.

The suite around her was all pale opal and woven light—walls that pulsed with barely-contained enchantments, surfaces that didn't just gleam, but glowed, gently reflecting the aether that laced the air like perfume. It was all beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, it unsettled her more than a blade at her back.

This wasn't a place meant for someone like her.

And yet here she was.

'Maybe that's why it feels like walking inside someone else's skin.'

She'd used everything available. She wasn't above that—not after clawing her way through years of scarcity and silence. The message interface had been her first experiment: a brief communication with the attendant assigned to her, asking for a list of nearby library networks.

It had answered instantly, with a tone so politely efficient it made her teeth ache.

Meals came next. She ordered something basic—root-vegetable stew, grain porridge, a tea blend labeled "focus enhancement"—and it had appeared on a gleaming tray without a single creak of a serving cart. Every item was perfectly balanced, perfectly hot, perfectly... impersonal.

Then came the real test: the cultivation chambers.

There was one embedded into the suite floor, but a secondary chamber had been listed—a room three floors down, accessible only by attuned glyphs, its walls laced with silver-threaded runes that heightened the ambient mana density by nearly forty percent. It wasn't just opulent—it was ideal.