Coin’s Edge: Reincarnated as a Extra

"What the hell? He's still alive after that? What reason kept him going until now? If I were him, I would've died a long time ago."

Tyrone's eyes widened in shock as he looked at Hector's frail state, lying on the treatment bed with a thick layer of bandage on his drained body.

"I need the capsule—the one you said could treat the illusion of symptoms. I think he'll need it again in a few days," Kevin said nearby in a deep voice.

Tyrone could only sigh for a moment at Kevin's request. He had accepted Kevin's deal, and now he was one of Kevin's partners.

He would gain a lot of useful things in return, and that temptation was enough for him to ignore the Big Clan's hatred, at least for now.

"Here, take it! I don't even need it. These symptoms don't affect me. But I don't have many left, since I was just a regular prisoner back there." Tyrone retrieved the capsules from his storage system and handed them to Elder Butler.

Kevin gave a slight nod, instructing Elder Butler.

"Once he's stabilized, test it. We need analysis—no, I need to know what flaws it has. If Haley's product succeeded, then we'll need something."

"And now, we head to the Academy. There's still a lot to be done." Kevin glanced at Tyrone without opening his eyes.

Tyrone nodded in agreement. He was eager to go. He had once been rejected from the Academy for many reasons, but now—with Kevin's help—he could finally make it in.

That was exactly the kind of power they called status.

….

Then, about a month passed without any change.

….

Nothing much happened—until one day.

"AAAAAHHHHHHHHH! FUCK YOU! I'LL KILL YOU!"

"FUCKING BITCH!"

A roar of rage echoed through the treatment room, followed by the violent crashing of objects.

"Fuck you!" Hector's face twisted in fury as he forced his weakened body to move, slamming into everything in front of him wildly.

Even though it hurt him.

Bam!

A nearby cabinet was immediately smashed, revealing Hector beneath the splintered wood. His layer of bandage was getting soaked in bloodstains, and bruises had started to form across his body.

"Fuck!"

Hector slowly struggled to get up, staggering slightly as he looked for something else to slam into.

"I will kill... y-you..."

But his movements grew weaker and slower as streams of blood poured from his mouth and reopened wounds that had only just begun to heal.

He stumbled and threw himself at a cabinet, then collapsed motionless.

Then, his body started to shiver.

"No! Get away from me..."

He began to panic.

He curled into himself, trembling, trapped in a storm of terror.

He kept mumbling incoherent words into the air, as if he were truly a lunatic patient in a hospital.

And for someone like him—abused and tortured so many times before—it was all too familiar.

It had left deep scars on him.

Truly, under the long-lasting emotional corruption, and without the relief of a capsule, the symptoms had merely accumulated over time—until they finally burst out now.

This led to a total loss of control, even though he had once been able to suppress his negative emotions.

He shook his frail, scarred body, glancing around wildly with wide, white eyes full of terror.

He saw nothing real—but that was the problem.

Because now, the hallucinations were helping him see everything.

Twisted, misshapen humanoid figures danced around him.

They greedily shouted, cursed whispers into Hector's ears until he clamped them shut with both hands as tightly as he could.

"Why should you live? Just die. It would all be over. No more pain. Just... die."

"Well, then he could meet her! Right? Don't you really want to see her?"

"Do it!"

"Do it!"

"Do it!"

...

Endless encouraging voices echoed.

The phantom illusion was encouraging and pushing him toward suicide.

And it was working.

"Y-You're right. I can't suffer anymore."

Hector glanced around and began to crawl, trembling, his hands moving wildly as he searched for something sharp.

Finally, he found it.

A shard of wood, split off from the cabinet during his rampage.

Slowly, he lifted it and brought it close to his throat.

"Do it!" The voice pierced the air, carrying a thread of madness with it.

With a trembling hand, Hector began to press the jagged wood against his neck—but he moved too slowly, shaking too hard to be precise.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, BOY?!"

That gruff voice rang out just as the floor beneath him shifted, forming a small pillar of earth that shot up and wrapped around him, restraining his body and halting his mad act.

"My God! My young master will kill me if your friend dies over this bullshit reason!"

"He needs the capsule right now!"

As time passed, Hector gradually returned to a stable state—back to an ordinary human, not a lunatic.

But it was only temporary.

He would need something more… something special to truly deal with it.

"Are you okay, boy?" a weathered voice echoed gently in the air.

The Elder Butler was seated in a chair beside Hector, who was now lying on the bed, leaning against the wall, his eyes fixed blankly on the door.

"Do I... really have to say it?" Hector's face twisted into an expression of helplessness and hollow despair as the Elder asked his empty question.

The old man sighed deeply and gave a faint nod.

"I see. I'll step out of the room. Settle whatever you need to. Sorry for the stupid question."

Then, quietly, without a sound of footsteps, he rose from the chair and left the room.

...

Hector glanced around the room with empty, unseeing eyes, the torment in his mind crawling across his skin.

Nothing.

Just darkness.

Yet, he could still sense pressure points—some tiny flows of vitality from scattered objects around the room, and the presence of the Elder Butler outside the door.

Beyond that?

Only dull, suffocating blackness.

"Fuck!"

Hector's hand trembled as he clutched the coin hanging around his neck.

His face twisted with madness.

Then, without warning, he ripped the coin from his neck and hurled it out through the doorway.

"YOU BITCH!"