The Extra Wants To Die

Survival.

This word has been etched into my memory for as far as I can remember.

Well, it's not like I am the only one, who wants to survive.

I mean, is there any "normal" human being, who wants to die?

However, for me, that word holds a whole different meaning.

Why, you ask?

First of all, think about the most common reasons people die in this world.

Heart disease?

Accidents?

Cancer?

Or the infectious diseases that cause pandemics?

Most of the people die due to the above causes I mentioned.

But in my case?

No, that'd be too normal.

Fate—or maybe some sadistic cosmic prank—has had me dodging death at every ridiculous turn.

A piece of metal in my stomach at birth.

A lightning strike on a sunny day in fourth grade.

A falling piano in middle school.

When I was in high school second year, at the road crossing on my way to home, I had an encounter with the legendary reincarnating truck.

I thought, it was finally time for me to reincarnate in a fantasy world.

But, miraculously, I survived from a serious brain injury.

Then, during my college years, I had 2 heart attacks, diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and several road accidents, in one of which, my left arm was temporarily paralyzed.

It was like the whole universe was out to get me.

And yet, through every absurd twist, I clung to life.

Maybe it was luck.

Maybe it was some stubborn refusal to let the universe win.

But every time I felt death's grip closing in, I found a way to slip out, to take one more breath.

I was like a cat with nine lives—except I was burning through them faster than I could count.

My parents were a bit wealthy, for which hospital expenses were not a problem.

Well, thanks to them, I survived for a whole 24 years.

But, they couldn't.

Being their only child, my parents provided me with anything I wanted.

They genuinely cared for me a lot more than I knew.

Hence, looking at me on the brink of death for so many times, their health began to deteriorate rapidly.

Cause of death : heart attack due to prolonged hypertension.

Both of them died within an interval of a month, while I was in college.

They were the only family I had.

And my parents weren't the only thing I lost during my lifetime of constant turmoil.

As I was often hospitalized, the only friends I had made during childhood, began to grow distant.

Eventually, we lost contact.

Middle school, high school, college.

I never got a freind.

The only thing I got, is the sympathetic looks of everyone around me.

Still, I moved forward.

Because, "survival" is the only way I knew how to live.

The strangest of the accidents continued, as I finally gave in to a fucking grape, stuck in my throat.

Choked to death.

Just when I realized that I was dead, everything around me turned dark.

There was nothing, and I was a part of this nothingness.

Then, suddenly, in front of me, a ray of light appeared.

A light of almost blinding intensity.

It wasn't just any light—it was warm, inviting, and utterly mesmerizing.

For a moment, I felt all the weight of my past lift off my shoulders, as if I was being embraced by something far greater than myself.

Then two figures appeared from the ray of light.

The figures stepped closer, and as the light softened, I froze.

My breath caught in my throat, and for the first time in years, it wasn't because of a near-death experience.

It was them.

My parents.

Their faces were just as I remembered, though they seemed... brighter somehow.

Healthier, happier.

They looked at me with those familiar eyes, the same ones that had always been filled with love, concern, and unwavering care.

"Come here, sweetheart," my mom said softly, her voice carrying the warmth that had kept me going through the hardest of times.

"It's been so long, son," my dad added, his voice steady and comforting. "You've fought so hard. You deserve to rest now."

My chest tightened, and for a moment, I was overwhelmed with a sense of peace.

The kind I hadn't felt in years.

They were here.

The only two people who had ever truly cared about me.

And they were inviting me to join them, to finally let go of the struggle.

But then, something strange happened.

My legs didn't move toward them.

Instead, they turned on their own, and I started running—no, sprinting—in the opposite direction.

"Wait, what?!" I yelled at my body, my mind racing.

I could hear my parents calling after me, their voices filled with confusion and sorrow, but I didn't stop.

My body refused to listen.

My legs were pumping like my life depended on it.

"What the hell is wrong with me?!" I shouted into the void as the light behind me grew distant.

And then it hit me.

I didn't want to die. Not yet.

After everything I'd been through, every absurd accident and every brush with death, something deep inside me still clung to the idea of survival.

I'd lived so long fighting to stay alive that even in death, my instincts refused to surrender.

The blinding light behind me faded, replaced by a cold, empty darkness.

My parents' voices grew quieter until they disappeared completely.

A sense of relief spread over me.

And at the same time, I felt disgusted with myself.

The darkness stretched on endlessly, silent and cold.

I floated in it, feeling a mix of emotions. Relief that I had escaped death—again. Disgust at myself for running away from the only people who ever truly loved me. Confusion about why my body had acted on its own.

But before I could make sense of anything, the world around me began to change.

It started with a faint warmth in my chest, growing stronger with each passing second. A pulse, rhythmic and alive.

Then, I felt something else.

Weight.

My body was no longer floating in the void.

The warmth of sunlight on my face woke me up. I blinked, feeling strange. The air smelled fresh and clean, and everything around me felt different.

I sat up, rubbing my head as a dull ache throbbed in my temples.

The bed I was on was soft, too soft, covered in silky sheets. I looked around and froze.

The room was huge. The ceiling was high, decorated with gold designs. The walls were covered with fancy tapestries, and the furniture looked expensive. A crystal chandelier hung above me, casting sparkling light everywhere.

"What… where am I?" I whispered.

My voice sounded deeper. It wasn't my voice.

Before I could panic, the door opened. A young woman walked in, holding a tray of food.

She was beautiful.

Her black hair flowed down her back like silk. Her green eyes were sharp but warm, and she wore a neat black-and-white maid outfit.

Then, a sudden realization hit me, as I recognized her face.

I had never met her in my lifetime, but I knew her all too well.

On the hospital bed, I got bored too easily.

So, most of the time, I searched for entertainment like web novels and webtoons.

There was this, not very famous webtoon, named, THE EXTRA WANTS TO SURVIVE.

The story itself was not very generic, but I remained with it until the very end, as a matter of curiosity, and I had nothing more to do anyway.

And, even now, I remember the faces of all the characters in that webtoon.

There is no doubt that the maid in front of me, is one of the female leads of that story, Evelyn.

I rushed to the nearby large mirror, and after seeing my own reflection, all of my doubts were cleared.

Standing before the mirror, I froze.

The face staring back at me was not my own.

Sharp, aristocratic features. Piercing gray eyes. Short, raven-black hair that framed a pale, almost sickly complexion.

This wasn't me.

This was Reynard Alistair, the villain from The Extra Wants to Survive.

My stomach dropped as memories of the webtoon flooded back.

Reynard was despised by everyone—his family, his peers, even his own servants.

He wasn't just a spoiled noble; he was cruel, arrogant, and reckless.

However, the most alarming thing for me is the fact that...

Reynard dies at an early age.

And the one behind his death, is none other than, this innocent looking maid herself.

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A/N :

Next chapter - The Night Of Death

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