Extra's Ascent

The two walked side by side, their strides unconsciously falling into a rhythm, a quiet synchronicity born not of planning but presence. Around them, life pulsed with vibrant energy, the chatter of vendors, the rustling of leaves in the breeze, and most distinctly, the echoing laughter of children dancing through the square.

Aldrich tilted his head toward Fiona, a reflective glint in his gaze. "You know... the last time I remember laughing like that, it was when I was in a coma."

The statement came from nowhere and carried a taste that surprised even him. He had spent the past half hour listening to Fiona share stories, moments from her youth, recollections of a childhood unpolished by prestige. These weren't tales the novel had ever cared to explore. It had painted her as poised, composed, and dazzlingly untouchable. But hearing her voice them aloud, hearing about scraped knees and quiet doubts, about tears behind perfect smiles and triumphs earned behind closed doors, it grounded her. Made her real.

Now it was his turn.

He wanted to offer something in return, something he had never entrusted to anyone else. And no, it wasn't the truth about who he really was, how he wasn't Aldrich Aldaman, but Paul, a man from another world entirely. A man who'd woken up in the body of a comatose extra in a novel he used to read. That truth was too dangerous, too alien. The mere thought of sharing it sent a cold stab of fear through his chest.

That secret would go with him to his grave.

Still, there were fragments of the past he could offer, pieces of emotion, of memory that could bring them closer without exposing everything.

"In a coma?" Fiona repeated, her brow furrowing with disbelief. "You had fun while you were unconscious?"

"I know," he replied, shrugging sheepishly. "It sounds insane. But it's true. I laughed. I smiled. I lived, in a way. I experienced joy while in that void."

"You mean… like this?" She gestured at the children nearby, their delighted shouts painting the air with innocence.

"Exactly like this," Aldrich affirmed, nodding.

There's no manual for what happens when the mind shuts down and the body sleeps on. Just as no one has ever returned from death to write a memoir. But Aldrich or rather Paul felt certain, even if he couldn't explain why. Whatever that in-between space was… it hadn't been empty. Not for him.

Maybe it was death. Maybe it wasn't. Was it transmigration? Reincarnation? Possession?

He had no answers.

One moment, he had been in his apartment, idly chatting with the novel's author over the phone. The next, he had woken up inside a fictional body, inside this world. Aldrich Aldaman's world.

And yet, adapting to this new life hadn't been hard. It hadn't even been strange.

It had been natural.

Like slipping into a skin that somehow already fit. He had become Aldrich so seamlessly it was as though the character had been a buried part of him all along.

But what did that say about him? About the real Aldrich? A character who'd been discarded before his story ever began. No lines, no spotlight, no voice. He had died nameless in the background, never rising above the level of a forgotten placeholder.

Who was Paul to claim he was doing the character justice?

"Al…?"

Fiona's voice drifted through the fog of his thoughts, gently pulling him back to the present.

He blinked, turning to her with a sheepish grin. "Sorry, I… wandered a little."

"You wandered a lot," she said, her tone light, but concern lingered in her eyes. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, it's nothing," he replied quickly. "Just… thoughts. Dumb ones. You don't need to worry."

Her eyes lingered on him a moment longer, then she nodded. "Alright. But if they're not worth worrying about, don't let them drag you down."

Aldrich smiled at that, forcing some levity into his voice. "Come on now, do I really look like the type to brood over nonsense?"

She tilted her head, gave him a slow once-over, then nodded seriously. "Yes. Yes, you do. Weren't you just sulking earlier because you thought I believed your duel with Kyle was a fluke?"

"That's different!" Aldrich objected, eyes wide with mock offence. "That was a matter of reputation!"

"Sure it was," she said with a chuckle, clearly enjoying herself.

"Go ahead," he sighed dramatically. "Laugh all you want. I'm your clown for the evening."

And laugh she did, the sound ringing out like a wind chime in the breeze, clear, bright, unfiltered.

They kept walking, no particular destination in mind, letting their steps carry them wherever they pleased.

After a while, Aldrich cast her a sideways glance. "So… how's the team bonding going for you?"

The shift in subject was casual, but the silence that followed it was anything but.

Fiona didn't answer right away. Her pause stretched on, growing more suspicious by the second.

"You're having issues," Aldrich guessed, watching her carefully.

Her hesitance, the way she avoided his eyes. It told him more than her words ever could.

Of course she was struggling. Someone with her status was bound to. She was either paired with teammates who resented her fame, or worse, those who idolized her so much they lost the ability to treat her as an equal. Neither dynamic made for good cooperation.

Where Aldrich could still move relatively unnoticed, Fiona was a known quantity celebrated, envied, and judged.

"It's not exactly the team that's the issue," she said eventually. "It's the people in the team."

"I see," Aldrich murmured. "Who are they?"

She sighed again. "Well… for starters, Saldrich."

"Wait, my sister?" Aldrich blinked in surprise. "You're teamed up with Saldrich Aldaman?"

"Yes, your sister," Fiona echoed, emphasizing the name for his benefit.

That was unexpected. If anything, having Saldrich should've made things easier for her. His sister was intense, sure, but also focused and fair. Competent. Reliable.

So why the tension?

"And the others?" he asked, growing more curious by the second.

Fiona opened her mouth to respond—

But her words froze halfway, her attention briefly taken.

Ahead, she noticed the appearance of two familiar figures, known not just to her but also to Aldrich.