So what if I am just a mob in a novel : I will get what I want

Rishitha watched the fire flicker, its warmth brushing against her face, but she felt cold inside—a chill that no flame could chase away. The cave was silent except for the crackling of wood and the occasional shuffle of the others, but her mind was anything but quiet.

The thoughts clawed at her, relentless, suffocating.

What am I doing here? she wondered, staring into the golden interface of her system that hovered faintly in the corner of her vision. How did I end up in this nightmare disguised as a second chance?

The system's cold, mechanical voice echoed in her mind, its commands sharp and unfeeling. It didn't care about her struggles, her emotions, or the lives at stake.

[Complete the story. Save your family.]

It was so simple, wasn't it? Just follow the script. Play your role. Guide the others toward their destined paths. But the reality was far from simple.

The Weight of Manipulation

Her chest tightened as she thought about Mo Tang and Ragith. She could feel Ragith's seething hatred every time his eyes flickered toward her. She deserved it. She knew she did.

Mo Tang didn't know the full truth. She didn't know that Rishitha had been forced to push her into that cave, into danger, all because of a mission dictated by the system.

She could have died because of me, Rishitha thought, her stomach churning with guilt. And for what? A few points? A step closer to saving a family that might not even want me back?

Her gaze shifted to Erin, sitting across from her. He was sharpening his blade, his expression calm but focused. He looked so composed for a boy his age, but she knew the truth. Erin was the lynchpin of this world, the one destined to carry the weight of its survival.

He doesn't know yet. He doesn't remember.

Her fingers curled into fists. The system had made it clear that Erin's regression ability would awaken when he turned eighteen. Until then, he was just a boy, unaware of the countless times he had died, fought, and failed.

How many times has he tried to save this world, only to watch it fall apart again?

Rishitha's throat tightened. She couldn't tell him. She couldn't tell any of them.

They think this is real. And maybe it is. But to me… it's also just a story. A story I have to finish if I want to go back.

Her thoughts turned to her family.

Her mother's face appeared first, weary but gentle. The way she had shielded Rishitha from her father's wrath, taking the blows herself. The sound of her voice, soft and soothing, even when her own world was crumbling.

I miss her so much.

Her brothers came next, each one a complicated mix of pain and love. The backstabber, who had betrayed her once but later became her fiercest protector. The trickster, whose laughter masked his own wounds. The silent one, whose quiet strength had always made her feel a little safer.

And then there was her father.

The memories came unbidden: his anger, his cruelty, the way he had torn their family apart. She hated him. She hated what he had done to her, to her mother, to her brothers.

But I still want to save him so she can kill him.

The thought made her sick, but it was the truth. No matter how much she hated him, no matter how much pain he had caused, he was still her father. And the system had dangled the possibility of saving them all in front of her like a cruel joke.

Turn back time. Save them.

The words echoed in her mind, a promise and a curse.

Her gaze flickered back to the golden interface.

The system wasn't a guide. It wasn't a helper. It was a taskmaster, cold and ruthless. It didn't care about her feelings, her struggles, or the people she had to manipulate to complete its missions.

Mo Tang. Ragith. Even Erin. They were all pieces on a chessboard, and she was the reluctant player.

But they weren't just pieces to her.

They're real. They feel real. Their pain, their laughter—it's all real.

And that made everything so much harder.

How am I supposed to keep doing this? How am I supposed to keep manipulating them, putting them in danger, knowing what it might cost them?

Her hands trembled as she clenched them tighter.

But the system didn't care about her doubts or her guilt.

[Failure is not an option.]

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to push the thoughts aside. The others were resting, recovering from their latest ordeal, but there was no rest for her.

She stared into the fire, its warmth doing little to chase away the cold in her chest.

I can't tell them the truth, she thought. They don't need to know that this world is just an abandoned story. That they're characters in a novel I've barely read. That I'm just a nobody, trying to save a family that might not even want me back.

The thought sent a pang of loneliness through her, sharp and unrelenting.

But I have to keep going. For them. For my family. For myself.

She glanced at the others—Mo Tang, Ragith, Erin—and felt a strange mix of guilt and determination.

They don't know it yet, but they're my only hope. And I'll do whatever it takes to protect them, even if it means sacrificing everything.

As the firelight danced in her eyes, a single tear slid down her cheek.

I'll see this through. No matter what it costs me.

Erin sat near the fire, the soft crackle of flames doing little to soothe the storm in his mind. The warmth brushed against his face, but his thoughts were cold and restless. His gaze flickered to Rishitha, who sat across from him, staring into the fire as though it held all the answers to the burdens she carried.

To Erin, she was an enigma.

From the moment they'd met, something about her had been… off. She was unlike anyone he'd ever encountered. Her words, her actions, even the way she carried herself—it was as though she was holding back a tidal wave of secrets, a weight so heavy it seemed to drag her down with every step.

He'd seen her fight, seen her take charge in situations that would have broken anyone else. But there was always a hesitation in her eyes, a flicker of guilt or doubt that made him question her resolve.

What is she hiding? he thought, watching her carefully.

She didn't seem like a warrior, nor did she seem like someone accustomed to the chaos they faced daily. Yet, she had survived. She had led them. And somehow, she had earned the trust of Mo Tang and even Ragith, despite his initial hostility.

But why does she seem so sad?

Erin shifted his gaze to Ragith and Mo Tang. They were talking quietly, their voices low but intense. It was clear Ragith still had his reservations about Rishitha, though he was trying to mask it for Mo Tang's sake.

Erin's chest tightened as he thought about his own role in all of this.

He wasn't a leader. Not yet. He wasn't the kind of person who could make decisions or inspire others. But Rishitha—despite her flaws and her secrets—had done that.

She's carrying so much. More than she lets on.

And yet, there were moments when she seemed so fragile, as though she might shatter under the weight of it all. He hated seeing her like that.

Why does it bother me so much?

His hand instinctively went to the blade resting by his side. He ran his fingers along its hilt, the cool metal grounding him.

Erin wasn't naive. He knew the world they were in was dangerous, unforgiving. He knew they couldn't afford to hesitate or show weakness. But Rishitha's sadness—it felt like a weakness he wanted to protect, not exploit.

She's hiding something. Something big.

And it frustrated him. Not because he felt betrayed—no, he wasn't sure he had earned her trust enough for that—but because he wanted to understand her.

Who are you, Rishitha? And why does it feel like you're fighting a battle none of us can see?

Erin glanced at Mo Tang, her laughter soft and fleeting as she teased Ragith about his overprotectiveness.

For a moment, the tension lifted, and Erin found himself smiling. Mo Tang had a way of lightening even the darkest moments. She was like a spark, a flicker of hope in a world that seemed determined to snuff it out.

And then there was Ragith, ever the protective brother. Erin admired his determination, his loyalty. It reminded him of how he felt about the others.

I'd protect them, too. With everything I have.

But Rishitha—she was different. He felt something for her he couldn't quite explain. It wasn't love, not yet, but it was a connection, a pull that made him want to stand by her side, no matter the cost.

As the fire burned low, Erin finally broke the silence.

"Rishitha," he said softly, his voice cutting through the quiet.

She looked up, startled, her eyes wide and vulnerable.

"Why do you always look like the world's weight is on your shoulders?" he asked, his tone gentle but probing. "You don't have to carry it alone, you know."

Her lips parted as though she wanted to respond, but no words came out. Instead, she looked away, her gaze falling back to the flames.

Erin frowned but didn't push her.

One day, he thought. One day, she'll tell us. And when she does, I'll be there to help her carry it.

For now, he would keep his questions to himself, but his resolve was firm.

Whatever secrets she held, whatever battles she was fighting, Erin knew one thing for certain:

I'll stand by her, no matter what.