Chapter 1: Awakening in Chains

A dull ache throbbed in Mira's head as she slowly regained consciousness. Her body felt sluggish, her limbs cold and sore. The first thing she noticed was the rough texture of the ground beneath her—a mix of dirt and straw, damp from the humidity of the enclosed space. The air reeked of sweat, filth, and something metallic. Blood.

Her mind was a haze, thoughts sluggishly coming together like mismatched puzzle pieces. But the moment she forced her heavy eyelids open, the reality of her situation slammed into her like a crashing wave.

Thick iron bars. Darkness, save for the dim torchlight flickering in the distance. The muffled sounds of sobbing, chains rattling, and the occasional pained whimper.

A cage.

She was in a cage.

Panic surged through her veins as she scrambled up, only for the harsh bite of cold steel to dig into her wrists. Shackles. They were heavy, rusted, and lined with strange etchings that glowed faintly with an eerie blue light. Magic-restricting runes.

"Where…" Her voice cracked, throat parched and raw. "Where the hell am I?"

Then, it hit her. Memories not her own. A novel she had once read. The protagonist's journey. The academy. The villainess. The heroines. The grand adventure of a young hero chosen by fate.

And her?

An extra. An unnamed background character who had been sold into a slave ring that was meant to be briefly mentioned and forgotten.

"No. No, no, no." Mira's breath came out ragged as she clutched her head, shaking. "This has to be a nightmare."

But the dull throb of hunger in her gut, the sting of her raw wrists, and the sheer, undeniable weight of the curse settling deep inside her soul said otherwise.

She could feel it. The thing that twisted her thoughts, her very personality. Arrogance. Possessiveness. A violent, simmering hatred toward the so-called protagonist of this world.

The author did this to me.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips, breathy and hoarse. "You've got to be kidding me."

The realization was slow and heavy, settling in her bones like lead. If she didn't do something, she'd die here. No hero was coming to save her. No miraculous plot armor would protect her. She was just an extra, and extras died like insects in the background of a grander story.

Her fingers curled into fists.

Not happening.

A soft shuffle caught her attention. A figure huddled in the corner of the cage, curled into themselves, ears twitching slightly. Feline ears. A nekomimi.

The girl was small, barely more than skin and bones, her silver-gray fur matted with dirt and blood. But despite her fragile appearance, sharp golden eyes peeked at Mira through messy bangs, watching her warily.

"...You're awake," the girl whispered. Her voice was quiet, cautious, as if speaking too loudly might draw unwanted attention.

Mira took a slow breath, steadying herself. "Yeah. What's your name?"

The girl hesitated, then murmured, "...Nia."

Nia. One of the many nameless slaves in this wretched place. But not for long.

Mira leaned in, lowering her voice. "Listen, Nia. We're getting out of here."

Nia's ears flicked, her body tensing. "That's impossible. We're shackled. There are guards. Even if we run, where would we go?"

Mira smirked, despite the situation. The curse running through her veins made arrogance feel as natural as breathing. She refused to be a nameless extra.

"I don't care how impossible it is," she said, her voice laced with an unnatural, compelling certainty. "I will not rot in a cage."

Her mind was already working. The guards. The keys. The patrol patterns. The weak points in the structure.

She wasn't the protagonist of this world, but she would tear the script apart and rewrite her fate with her own hands.

Even if she had to burn this entire place to the ground.

The night stretched on, thick with an oppressive silence. Somewhere outside the cages, the sound of boots echoed against stone—patrolling guards. They were confident, arrogant in their control over their prisoners. Mira committed their pacing to memory, the rhythm of their steps, the intervals between each round.

This was no ordinary slave ring. The presence of magic-restricting shackles meant that some of the captives were valuable. Mages, knights, or those with potential. That meant someone here had to be worth a lot of money, and that meant tight security.

She shifted, testing the weight of the shackles. Heavy, but not unbreakable. If she could just find a way to—

A sharp clang rattled through the dungeon. One of the prisoners further down the row let out a weak, pained sob. A guard stood outside their cage, sneering down at them.

"Quiet," the man spat, slamming his baton against the bars. The girl inside recoiled, her frail body trembling.

Mira's nails dug into her palms. The sight of it sent a rush of anger through her—fury that felt almost unnatural in its intensity. The curse was feeding her emotions, fueling the flames.

She exhaled slowly, pushing it back. Not yet. She needed to be smart.

Next to her, Nia shrank further into herself, her tail curling around her knees. Her golden eyes flickered with fear but also something else—familiarity. This wasn't the first time she had seen this happen.

Mira turned to her. "How long have you been here?"

Nia hesitated before whispering, "Days. Maybe a week. Time's… hard to tell down here."

A week. If she had lasted that long, then she had some kind of survival instinct.

Mira's smirk returned. "Then you'll last a little longer."

Nia gave her a wary look. "What are you planning?"

Mira's gaze flickered back to the guard. If she wanted out, she needed an opening. And she had just found her first target.

"Something bold," she murmured. "And very, very stupid."

The plan was already forming in her mind.

By sunrise, this cage wouldn't be holding her any longer.

Over the next few hours, Mira observed every detail she could. Where the guards stood, how often they moved, which ones were lazy, and which ones enjoyed tormenting the captives.

She whispered her findings to Nia, who hesitated before nodding. The catgirl's wariness never fully faded, but Mira could tell she was clinging to the smallest shred of hope.

Hope was dangerous. It could get them killed. But it could also make them fight harder.

Finally, as dawn threatened to break, Mira tensed. The time was near.

Their chance was coming.

She licked her dry lips and smirked.

Let's rewrite this story.