**********
"Pain shapes purpose."
Funny how that sounds so poetic, right?
Like something you'd read on an inspirational poster in a therapist's office or slapped on a mug someone gave up on trying to make meaningful.
But for me?
Pain wasn't some abstract concept or a poetic punchline.
It was a daily meal, and trust me, I've been force-fed enough servings to last ten lifetimes.
If pain really shapes purpose, then I'm probably the sculptor of Michelangelo's David.
Except instead of marble, I've been chipping away at my own soul.
The masterpiece?
A pale, hollow man who looks like he hasn't seen sunlight since dinosaurs roamed the Earth.
Seriously, I could get hired as an extra for a vampire movie with no makeup.
But hey, it's not all bad.
Well, okay, it is mostly bad, but I've learned a thing or two.
Lesson one?
You'd be surprised how much a person can take before they stop caring.
After a while, pain doesn't feel like a knife anymore.
It's more like an annoying roommate who leaves dirty dishes in your soul.
Like, yeah, it sucks, but you just kind of live with it.
"Oh, what's that, Pain? You're back again? Cool, make yourself at home. Rent's due Tuesday."
Oh, and the jokes—can't forget those.
Humor is my armor.
And not the shiny knight-in-shining-armor kind.
No, mine's more like duct tape and bubble wrap.
Falling apart, but hey, at least it makes people laugh before they see the cracks.
Take the fact that my skin looks like printer paper.
"You okay, dude?" they ask.
"Yeah," I tell them,
"just auditioning to be Casper the Unfriendly Ghost."
And, oh, my favorite:
"You ever think of tanning?"
Sure.
Let me just walk outside and spontaneously combust like a cursed scroll in the sun.
Thanks for the tip.
But let's circle back to purpose, because that's the punchline, isn't it?
What purpose does someone like me serve?
The world's already overflowing with people who smile too wide, laugh too loud, and have their lives tied up in neat little bows.
Meanwhile, I'm here holding a box labeled "mystery suffering, fragile contents," and guess what? The instructions are written in invisible ink.
Here's the thing about being alone—truly, epically alone.
It's like you're a ghost haunting your own life. People don't see you;
they see through you.
At some point, you stop trying to remind them you're there.
It's easier that way.
But being invisible has perks, too.
You get to watch, observe.
You see humanity in its raw, unfiltered form.
And what a mess it is.
People are so scared of pain.
They'll do anything to dodge it—lie, cheat, numb themselves with distractions.
And here I am, drowning in it, carrying it like it's my birthright.
Maybe that's my purpose.
To remind the world that pain doesn't kill you.
Not right away, at least.
It just carves you into something sharper, something that cuts through the lies.
Dark, huh?
Let's lighten the mood with a fun fact:
Did you know the average human body contains enough iron to make a small nail?
So technically, I'm not just a person.
I'm also a hardware store.
That's a weird kind of purpose, right?
My life in one sentence:
"Some assembly required, batteries not included."
But seriously, there's something… almost funny about how much I've been through.
Like, at this point, it feels like the universe is running out of creative ways to mess with me.
"Oh, what's that, life?
Another tragedy?
Cute. Let me guess—you're going to kill my hopes next.
Oh wait, you already did that in Chapter Three."
The worst part isn't the pain, though. It's the waiting.
Waiting for things to change, for someone to notice, for the world to throw me a bone.
Spoiler alert: it doesn't.
But here's the kicker: I've stopped waiting.
Pain shaped me into something else, something that doesn't need anyone else's validation.
Do I still suffer?
Of course.
That's the backdrop of my existence.
But now, I carry it differently.
I'm not some broken thing waiting to be fixed.
I'm the guy who keeps walking, even with the weight of the world strapped to his back.
Because if pain shapes purpose, then my purpose is simple: keep going.
Keep surviving.
Keep laughing at the darkness, because if you don't, the darkness wins.
And here's one final joke for you: Why did the pale man cross the road?
To get away from people who asked dumb questions.
But also because on the other side, he thought he saw a glimmer of something—a flicker of light.
Maybe hope.
Or maybe just the headlights of an oncoming truck.
Either way, it's better than standing still.
So yeah, pain shapes purpose.
My purpose?
To remind the world that even in the bleakest of shadows, there's room for a little sarcasm, a little defiance, and maybe—just maybe—a sliver of hope.
**********
"Fuck! Thats all I have for today"
A man, seemingly in his late twenties to early thirties, sat precariously on the taut metal rope of a suspension bridge.
His posture was tense, his left hand clutching a cellphone, the screen casting an eerie glow against his somber face.
His gaze was fixed, desperate, as though seeking solace from the device—a silent plea etched across his expression.
Each exhale was deliberate, a strained attempt to steady the storm within him.
His appearance was striking, almost unnaturally so, for someone who had clearly weathered more years emotionally than his youthful visage betrayed.
His raven-black hair, long and unkempt, danced faintly in the caress of the breeze, a dark cascade catching the dim light of the evening.
It gave him an air both disheveled and enigmatic, as if he belonged more to the night than to the waking world.
Draped over his lean frame was a dark suit, impeccably tailored yet carrying an aura of neglect, as though it once belonged to a man more ambitious, more whole.
The fabric absorbed the surrounding shadows, making him appear as if he were melting into the abyss that lay beneath the bridge.
It was the kind of attire that whispered of professionalism—a uniform of the corporate grind—but on him, it felt like a costume, a relic of a life long abandoned.
The wind, light and playful, toyed with his presence as if mocking his isolation.
His silhouette against the twilight sky painted a scene of quiet despair—a man on the edge of everything, balancing between the gravity of the world below and the tenuous thread of hope that kept him seated there.
The dim glow of the phone's screen danced across his pale face, flickering intermittently as if the device itself shared in his unease.
The faint hum of electricity crackled in the silence, each pixel struggling to hold its clarity.
On the display, a cascade of words unfolded—sharp, unyielding, as though etched with intent.
His eyes, shadowed by dark circles born of restless nights, were locked onto the screen with an intensity that bordered on desperation.
The faint tremor in his hand betrayed the storm brewing within, though his grip remained firm, almost possessive, as if letting go of the device would sever his only tether to the world.
The dim light painted his features with an eerie sharpness—the hollowness in his cheeks, the tension carved into his brow, the subtle twitch at the corner of his lips.
The text on the screen blurred momentarily as the device flickered again, the letters reforming like ghosts materializing in the dark.
Yet his focus didn't waver.
He was a man lost, searching for something within the sterile glow of technology, each word reflected in the glassy sheen of his tired eyes.
It wasn't just reading; it was dissecting, analyzing—trying to extract meaning from the lines that stared back at him.
Time seemed to stall, the steady rhythm of his breath the only sound breaking the heavy silence.
Outside, the world continued, indifferent to the battle raging within the confines of that tiny screen and the man who clung to it as though it held the answer to a question he couldn't voice.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
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✦ Title: The Unveiling Mage
✦ Genre: Fantasy | Realism
✦ Author: AncientCALX
✦ Total Chapters: 3,789
✦ Volumes: 112
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✦ Ratings: ★★★★☆ (7.8)
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'"Haa…"
A deep sigh escaped him, his chest rising and falling as he drew in a deliberate breath, eyes still locked on the flickering screen in his hand.
The light from the device illuminated his pallid face, highlighting the faint hollowness beneath his cheekbones.
Then, with a small motion, he pressed the button to close the screen, the glow vanishing into darkness.
As the silence settled in, he muttered to himself, his voice low but tinged with a quiet determination.
"I'll read it once I'm back at the apartment. It is the final volume, after all. I can't afford to miss it."
His tone was calm, almost detached, but hidden beneath the monotony of his expression was the faintest spark—an undercurrent of amusement and a flicker of excitement.
It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it lingered in the way his words stretched just a little longer, as though savoring the moment.
Though his face remained pale and stoic, that subtle change in his voice spoke louder than any smile ever could.
He stretched in a fluid, deliberate yoga pose, allowing his muscles to unwind and his mind to relax before he prepared to rise from the ground.
The cool breeze of the bridge rustled around him as he exhaled, feeling the tension leave his body.
With a calm, steady motion, he slowly stood up, his feet finding balance on the taut metal rope suspended above the deep chasm.
Once stable, he reached into the inner pocket of his suit and pulled out a sleek piece of metal.
It was a highly polished, rectangular identification card, its surface gleaming with a quiet authority.
As he held the card in his hand, the metal gleamed under the dim light, reflecting a sense of both elegance and practicality—an extension of his identity in this suspended moment between the earth and the sky.
----------
╔══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗
║ 🌟 LIFETIME IDENTIFICATION CARD 🌟 ║
╚══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝
──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
**Name**: Kim Eun Woo
──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
**Age**: 26
──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
**Date of Birth**: 2nd February, XXXX
──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
**Father's Name**: Nill
──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
**Mother's Name**: Nill
──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
**Status**: Orphan
──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
**Address**: Ongchan Apartment Complex
Gangbuk, Seoul
──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
**Cell Phone No.**: XXXX XXXX XX
──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
**Profession**: Graduated from Gangbuk University
Currently Unemployed
──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
╔══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗
║ 🌟 Forever Valid, No Expiry 🌟 ║
╚══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝
**Issued by the Government of Seoul**
----------
He stood there for a moment, the metal card resting in his hand, its smooth surface catching the dim light.
His eyes fixed on the card as if searching for something within its gleaming, cold metal.
The silence of the bridge seemed to envelop him, the distant sound of the rushing river below providing a subtle but constant backdrop.
For several long moments, he simply stared at the card, lost in thought, as though contemplating the weight of its significance—or perhaps its insignificance.
Then, with a decisive motion, his fingers tightened around the edges of the card. Without hesitation, he drew his arm back, the muscles in his shoulder and forearm tensing with purpose.
In a swift, powerful motion, he hurled the identification card into the air.
It spun gracefully, reflecting light as it sailed through the air, before plunging into the river below with a sharp splash.
PLOP—!
The sound of the card hitting the water echoed briefly before it was swallowed by the current, disappearing into the dark flow beneath the bridge.
His gaze followed the ripples that spread across the river's surface, as if the card's fate had severed some unseen tie, leaving him free, or perhaps severed from something he no longer wished to carry.
He, then stepped forward with his left leg, trying to jump down onto the empty road below.
The plan was simple enough: one step forward, a little hop, and he would land safely on the ground. But as soon as his right foot, the one still gripping the metal rope, slipped, everything turned upside down.
What had been a calculated move turned into an uncontrolled fall.
His back arched awkwardly, and his body was now suspended in mid-air, trapped in that brief, terrible moment before gravity would take hold.
His mind raced.
Is this it?
Is this how it ends?
he wondered, the thoughts coming at him like a flood, each one more grim than the last.
Was this the end of the line?
Really?
Just like this?
The air around him felt impossibly still, and for a moment, he wondered if the universe was playing some cruel joke on him.
His heart pounded, but it wasn't just from the adrenaline of falling; no, it was the weight of inevitability settling in.
He couldn't help but think about the absurdity of it all.
Why is my fate so messed up?
How did I end up like this?
His thoughts flickered back to the earlier part of the day when everything had seemed so normal, when the biggest worry had been deciding what to eat for lunch.
Now, he was about to meet his end, face-first in a river.
I didn't even get to have a decent lunch today!
Hell, I didn't even get to finish my novel!
And speaking of that novel, a small, bitter chuckle escaped his lips as the thought took root.
Wait.
My luck is so bad that I'm about to die mid-air like some idiot, but the real tragedy is that I never finished the last volume of that web novel!
He had bought the final volume just a moment ago, so excited to finally see the hero's last stand against the villain, to witness the epic showdown he had been waiting for.
The protagonist had been facing the ultimate battle, fighting against an evil force that seemed unbeatable.
And now, here he was, in mid-air, heading toward a watery grave—never knowing how that final battle ended.
"I can't believe this,
he thought with a sigh, almost laughing at the sheer absurdity of it.
Here I am, about to drown in a river, and the only thing I can think about is that damn web novel.
He couldn't help it—his brain had a way of finding the most ridiculous thoughts in the most inappropriate moments.
It was almost too much.
Am I really going to die like this?
No grand last words, no final heroic act, just... faceplanting into some random river?
The irony wasn't lost on him.
He had spent so many years reading about daring heroes, legendary struggles, but it looked like his own story was about to end with nothing but a wet splash and a forgotten final chapter.
But then, in the middle of that spiraling panic, something strange happened.
A flicker of something more, something deep in the pit of his stomach—a reminder.
The last volume.
He had never gotten to read the conclusion. The final page was lost to him forever, slipping out of his grasp just as surely as his right foot had slipped off the rope.
I can't believe this,
he muttered again, a wry smile curling his lips, despite the situation.
Of all the things to regret, it's that... not finishing the last chapter."
The realization hit him hard, like a slap across the face. In this moment, as his body plummeted towards the river below, he wasn't thinking about his life, his achievements, or even the people he'd known.
He was thinking about a fictional character, locked in a battle with some over-the-top villain, and how it all ended.
Or rather, how it would never end.
And for that brief, absurd moment, he found himself mourning the unfinished story more than the life that was slipping away from him.
But then—nothing.
The inevitable fall hadn't yet come, and in the stillness of that moment, something in his mind shifted.
It was as if the universe, in all its chaotic randomness, had allowed him this one, final, ridiculous thought, just to make peace with the absurdity of his situation.
Maybe that was the real twist of fate—dying just as you'd finally gotten hooked on the one story that would never be finished.
Plop—!
Whoosh—!
{Ding—!}
----------
{[System Notification]}
Soul Status: Not yet extinguished.
Rebirth Process Initiated.
[Goddess of Darkness] has activated resurrection protocol.
Soul is being reconstructed.
Final Judgement: Rebirth in the embrace of darkness.
System Update: Rebirth complete.
Status: Awaiting next phase of existence.
----------
"Eh?..."
*********
Author's Note:
Thank you for reading! This is my second novel, and it takes a darker approach to the "Extra" theme.
Unlike the typical take on extra's novels, this story explores the complexities and shadows of that role, offering a unique and gripping experience.
If you're looking for something lighter and brighter, feel free to check out my first novel.
However, if you're ready for a more intense journey, I hope you enjoy what's to come in this one.
Your support means the world to me, and I look forward to sharing this new world with you!
*********
Update Schedule: 1 chapter per day! Please note that I also have to update my first novel daily, so I appreciate your patience and support!
**********