Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

'Your mother never gave up. She never stopped fighting.'

The thought twisted the knife in his chest, guilt and anger warring within him. It wasn't fair—not to Aeliana, not to himself—but it was there all the same.

The room felt suffocating, the weight of their unspoken words pressing down like a vice. His mind churned, a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. He wanted to hold her, to tell her it wasn't her fault, that he would keep fighting for her. But he also wanted to shake her, to demand she take responsibility for her own life, to stop making him carry the burden alone.

"Sigh…."

The Duke exhaled heavily, his shoulders sagging for the briefest of moments as he reined in the chaos of his thoughts. His gaze drifted downward, a fleeting expression of something unspoken crossing his face. But when he raised his eyes to meet Aeliana's once more, they were steeled again—cold, commanding, every inch the authoritative figure she had grown to resent.

"Aeliana," he said sharply, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "That's enough. Cease this tantrum at once and behave like a lady. You are a Thaddeus, and I will not have you disgracing this house further."

Aeliana's body froze for a moment, her chest still heaving as his words echoed in her ears. Then, her eyes widened, blazing with fresh anger. The trembling in her hands returned, no longer from fear or fatigue, but from a rage so deep it seemed to consume her entirely.

"Tantrums?" she repeated, her voice trembling but louder now. "Does this look like a tantrum to you?" Stay updated through empire

Her fingers snatched at another porcelain vase from a nearby table, and with a sharp motion, she hurled it with all her might. It soared through the air, its ornate patterns blurring in the dim light, only to meet the same fate as the others—disintegrating into harmless shards against the Duke's mana barrier.

"Does this look like a tantrum to you?" she screamed again, her voice raw and cracking as she grabbed yet another object—a heavy crystal decanter this time—and flung it toward him. It shattered just as the vase had, raining shards across the floor like glittering fragments of her fury.

"You lock me away, you silence me, and then you dare to call this a tantrum?" she shouted, her movements becoming more frantic. She grabbed whatever her hands could find—porcelain bowls, candlesticks, even books—and hurled them one after another at the unyielding barrier.

Each shatter was a punctuation to her cries, a physical manifestation of the years of frustration and pain she could no longer contain.

"I've given you everything I have left!" she cried, her voice breaking as she paused, her breath hitching with emotion. "And you still expect more. You demand I be something I can't, someone I'm not, all for the sake of your precious house!"

The Duke stood firm, his mana barrier glowing faintly with each impact. His expression remained stoic, but beneath the surface, his emotions churned like a storm. He knew she was exhausted—physically, mentally—and that this outburst was years in the making. Yet he couldn't waver now, not in the face of her defiance.

"Aeliana," he said, his tone firm but quieter now. "Enough of this. Breaking vases and screaming will not change the reality we face. This is unbecoming of you. You are a Thaddeus—start acting like one."

"Stop saying that!" she screamed, her voice raw as tears began to spill down her cheeks. "I don't care about being a Thaddeus! I don't care about your legacy, or your name, or your duty! I just want to be free—free of this sickness, free of this cage, free of you!"

She stumbled backward, her legs shaking as if the weight of her rage had finally taken its toll. Her chest heaved, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

For a moment, the room fell silent save for the distant crash of the waves outside. The shattered remains of porcelain and glass glittered on the floor, a chaotic testament to her fury.

The Duke looked at her, his expression unreadable. Then, in a voice that was softer but still carried his authority, he said, "And what would you do with that freedom, Aeliana? What would you do if I let you go?"

Aeliana froze, the question catching her off guard. She blinked at him, her tear-streaked face partially obscured by her veil.

"Do you even know?" he pressed, stepping closer but keeping his tone calm. "Or is this just another way to run from what you cannot face?"

"I WOULD!" Aeliana's voice tore through the room, raw and defiant, trembling with both anger and desperation. "At least I would try!"

The Duke's expression darkened, his calm gaze unflinching. "Just like how you've tried until now?"

The words hit her like a blow. Her chest tightened, the air in the room feeling impossibly thick. She wanted to scream again, to hurl something else, to fight back against the quiet sting of his accusation. But her body betrayed her. Her lips parted, yet no sound came out.

'Do you think I haven't tried?' she wanted to shout, but the words caught in her throat, suffocating her.

Her fists trembled at her sides, her nails biting into her palms. Unable to meet his gaze, she turned away, her eyes drawn to the open window. The bright expanse of the ocean stretched far into the horizon, its rolling waves glistening in the sun.

It was a sight she hadn't truly seen in years.

The memories surfaced unbidden, vivid and bittersweet. She had played in those waters once, a lifetime ago. She had swum freely, her laughter carried on the salty breeze. She had marveled at the strange creatures that lurked beneath the waves, their mysterious forms dancing in the depths. The ocean was vast and wild, a place where adventure and wonder felt endless.

It was also a place she had longed to return to, a place that had seemed impossibly far away from her cage of sickness and duty.

'Right?' she thought, her vision blurring. Wasn't that where her heart still yearned to be? Beyond the waves, where she could feel alive again?

Her thoughts drifted further, to a memory buried in the back of her mind. It was a conversation she had overheard one afternoon, the voices of the maids echoing in her chamber as they cleaned. She had feigned sleep, her frail body too tired to speak, and listened as they talked amongst themselves.

"Did you hear? The Duke's forces are preparing to head east," one of them had whispered. "There's been trouble along the trade routes—monstrous sea beasts attacking ships."

"The Duke himself is ordering the expedition," another had replied. "They say it's not just about the beasts. There are ruins out there, ancient ones. Some think they might hold treasures or even answers to strange ailments."

Aeliana had barely moved, her breathing shallow as she absorbed their words.

"What kind of answers?" the first maid had asked, her tone hushed with curiosity.

"Who knows?" the other had shrugged. "But it must be important if the Duke's going. They say the sea itself has grown angry—waves as tall as mountains, storms that come out of nowhere. The expedition's not just about trade; it's about survival."

The memory lingered now, heavy with possibility. Answers. Ruins. The sea that had once felt like her playground now a place of danger and mystery.

Her fingers twitched against the windowsill as her thoughts crystallized.

"Father," she said, her voice quieter now but steadier. Her gaze remained fixed on the horizon. "The expedition… I overheard the maids speaking about it."

The Duke's brow furrowed, his stance shifting slightly. "What of it?"

"I want to go," she said, turning back to him, her veil catching the light as her eyes burned with resolve.

The Duke's expression hardened instantly. "Out of the question. You can barely stand some days, let alone endure the rigors of a journey at sea. Do you have any idea how dangerous this expedition will be?"

The Duke's expression darkened further, his brow furrowing deeply as Aeliana's words settled in the air like a challenge. "You will not go," he said firmly, his voice carrying the unyielding weight of his authority. "The rumors are false—I am not leading this expedition. My men will handle the dangers, as is their duty. You are far too weak to endure such a journey. This conversation is over."

"No," Aeliana said, her voice trembling but resolute. She stepped forward, her fists clenched at her sides. "It's not over. I am not going back to that room to rot while the world moves on without me. If this illness is going to kill me anyway, at least let me see the sea one more time. Let me live—even if it's just for a moment."

The Duke's jaw tightened, his expression like granite. "Aeliana, I will not allow you to risk your life for a fleeting whim. You have responsibilities, whether you acknowledge them or not."

"Responsibilities?" she snapped, her voice rising with emotion. "To what? To marry some Count and be paraded as your sickly, broken daughter? To spend every day locked away, too ashamed of my face to look in the mirror? What kind of life is that, Father?"

"You think the sea will give you freedom?" the Duke retorted sharply. "It will swallow you whole, Aeliana. You'll die out there, and for what? A foolish dream? No. I forbid it."

Aeliana's breaths came in short, sharp gasps, her mind racing. Her father's words felt like chains tightening around her throat. Every part of her screamed against his cold finality, against the prison of her sickness and the endless cycle of his control. She couldn't—wouldn't—go back to that room. Not again.

Her eyes darted to the side, landing on a knife that lay atop a silver tray by the door, its blade catching the light. Her pulse quickened as desperation clawed at her chest.

"If you won't let me live, then let me end this myself," she said, her voice trembling as she snatched the knife and held it to her wrist. Her hand shook violently, but her grip remained firm. "Because I can't—no, I won't—go back to that room. Not this time."