Transmigrated As An Extra In The Novel I Love And Hate

The fire crackled between us, the only source of warmth in the endless void. The tension that had built between us for what felt like hours had finally begun to fade.

I exhaled and leaned back, staring at the flickering flames. "You know… if someone told me a year ago that I'd be sitting by a bonfire, talking to my own dark side in the middle of a pitch-black void, I'd have called them insane."

He snorted. "And yet, here we are."

A small smile tugged at my lips. "Yeah."

For the first time since this conversation started, it felt less like a battle and more like… a conversation.

"So," he tilted his head. "You gonna tell me about this life?"

I sighed. "Where do I even start?"

"How about the part where we're literally inside our favorite novel?" he deadpanned.

I chuckled. "Yeah, that part still messes with me."

He hummed. "So? How does it end?"

I groaned, rubbing my face. "God, don't even get me started."

That caught his interest. "That bad?"

I shot him a deadpan look. "You tell me. The protagonist goes through hell, builds an empire, collects overpowered abilities, and then, at the very end, dies because of a stupid mistake. The author tries to make it poetic, but it's just frustrating."

He stared at me for a second. And then—

"Pffft—"

I blinked.

"HAHAHAHAHA!"

I watched as he clutched his stomach, laughing his ass off like this was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. And the thing was—I couldn't even blame him.

Before I knew it, I started laughing too.

For a solid minute, the void was filled with nothing but our laughter, echoing into the nothingness.

Eventually, he wiped his eyes. "Man… that's so fucking stupid."

I smirked. "I know, right?"

He shook his head, still grinning. But then his expression softened.

"You know…" He turned to me. "I am a part of you."

I stiffened.

He leaned forward, his crimson eyes locking onto mine. "Then why do you keep hiding me?"

I opened my mouth but hesitated. Then, after a moment, I admitted, "Because I'm afraid."

"…Afraid of what?"

I swallowed. "Losing someone again."

His expression flickered.

For a long moment, he didn't say anything. Then, finally, he sighed. "And what about me?"

I looked up.

His voice was quieter now. "Are you going to let your fear kill me? A part of you?"

I didn't know what to say.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You know very well we didn't kill that many people anyway—except for a few bastards who deserved it."

I gave him a dry look. "Yeah, that makes it sound so much better."

He rolled his eyes. "Look, I get it. You don't want to be that person again. And I'm not saying you should." He sighed. "But I was never the problem, Adrian. You just never wanted to accept me."

I stayed silent.

Then, after a pause, he scratched the back of his head. "…And, uh, about that whole 'we stopped being human when we slit our first throat' thing—"

I raised an eyebrow.

He coughed awkwardly. "Yeah, I may have exaggerated that. A lot."

I stared at him.

He gave a sheepish smile. "Bit of an emotional outburst, you know? Got caught up in the drama."

I kept staring.

"…Okay, fine, I was trying to push you in the wrong direction. Sue me."

There was silence.

Then, out of nowhere, I burst into laughter.

He blinked. "The hell are you laughing at?"

I shook my head, still laughing. "You! You're such a dumbass!"

He gaped at me. "Excuse me!?"

That only made me laugh harder.

A second later, he let out a dramatic sigh. "Man, whatever." But then, despite himself, he started laughing too.

And just like that, for the first time in forever, it felt like I wasn't fighting myself.

I was just… me.

The fire flickered, casting shifting shadows across his face—my face. He stared into the flames for a moment, then spoke.

"If I hadn't killed them… we would've died." His voice was steady, but there was something beneath it. Something raw.

I stayed silent.

"And what about Mom?" He turned to me, eyes searching mine. "If we died back then, what would've happened to her?"

I clenched my jaw.

"At least as long as we were alive, she had a chance. She could get treatment." His fingers curled into fists. "It wasn't much, but it was something."

I wanted to argue. I wanted to say something—anything—that would prove him wrong.

But I couldn't.

Because deep down, I knew he was right.

I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temples. "Damn it… I don't know why, but that actually makes a lot of sense."

He snorted. "Of course it does. I'm you."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. No need to get cocky about it."

We sat there for a while, just talking. About the past. About this life. About everything.

And as we talked, something strange started happening.

The darkness around us—it was fading.

Slowly but surely, the pitch-black void that had surrounded me for so long was beginning to dissipate. The shadows that had once felt suffocating were retreating, replaced by a soft, golden glow.

I didn't know what it meant.

But for the first time in a long time, I felt like I could breathe.