This Background Girl Is Cashing In

My second year inside a novel. While I was feeding medicine to the old man I’d rescued from the roadside, a line of text suddenly floated across my vision: [That’s the richest man in New York! The male lead is so damn lucky. The heroine was the one who saved him, but the first person he saw when he woke up was the male lead. Then that brat used his connections to climb straight to the top.] My hand trembled around the spoon. I immediately set down the medicine and shook the old man awake. To make sure I could cash in on this favor later, I even shelled out a whopping two thousand dollars for a full medical checkup. Later, lying in bed and counting on my fingers, I felt more ripped off by the second. I wanted to leap up and slap myself ten times. The floating comments exploded again: [Help. What is the male lead even trying to prove? Money practically wants to sprout wings and fly into his pocket, and he’s still giving us that “Don’t look down on me just because I’m poor” crap.] [Can you do this or not? If you can’t, let me! I’d drink myself to death for that hundred thousand dollars.] I sprang out of bed, grabbed a huge sack, and raced toward the bar mentioned in the comments. Whatever else happened, nobody should turn down money just to protect their pride. “Ethan Grant, drink this, and the hundred thousand dollars is yours.” A thin young man stood ramrod straight in the middle of the private room. On the round table beside him sat half a glass of crimson wine and a dazzling stack of cash. Another young man, dressed like a punk rocker, lounged in the booth. My eyes locked onto that money. I couldn’t look away. If I hadn’t been afraid of getting mistaken for a thief, I would’ve stuffed the whole stack straight into my sack. “Not drinking? Too bad. Guess I’ll have to give the money to someone else.” The conversation continued inside. The second I heard that money might go to someone else, I scratched my butt in agitation, grabbed my sack, and shoved through the door. I made a beeline for the wine. “No! If he won’t drink it, I will!” I snatched up the glass and drained it in two big gulps. Then I grinned at the punk-looking guy, still holding the empty glass. “So, uh, that one’s finished. Can I go another round?” He shot off the couch and pointed at my nose. “What the hell? Who are you? Who let you in?” The comments dissolved into chaos. [Holy shit, which one of you girls got transported in there? She actually did what I wanted to do. Real talk, can I have a cut?] [Wait, where did this random extra come from? How’s the plot supposed to continue now? If the spoiled rich kid doesn’t throw a fit, how will his grandpa meet the male lead again and help him climb the ladder?] I blinked. Wait. You’re saying all I have to do is piss off this punk, and I’ll get to meet the richest man in New York and reach the top? Being obnoxious? Please. Broke people like me were born for that. Under his murderous glare, I pointed at myself with a shit-eating grin. “Hey, Rooster Boy, are you talking to me? I heard you were paying people to drink, so I rode a rental bike over. Oh, right. You should reimburse me for that too. Five bucks a ride. Pretty expensive.” His face went scarlet. He glared at me like he wanted me dead and strode toward me. “Help! Someone’s attacking me!” I spotted the door, spun around, and bolted. “What’s all this noise? Don’t you know the chairman is here?” At the end of the hallway stood the old man. His usual kindly expression had been replaced by a stern one. I couldn’t stop the corners of my mouth from rising. The top of the world, here I come!Naturally, that was when everything went wrong. The old man walked straight past me and headed for the supposed male lead. He scolded the punk. “Noah! Are you bullying people again?” Then his face softened as he turned to Ethan. “Don’t be afraid, young man. I’ve spoiled Noah rotten, but he doesn’t mean any real harm.” His bodyguards went around me too, as if I didn’t exist. Seriously, even a dog should know better than to be an NPC in a billionaire romance. Now what? The top of the world didn’t seem very welcoming. The comments became even more merciless: [Phew. The billionaire just walked right past the random extra who saved his life. That’s so mean. exhales] [Our precious male lead really is blessed. Born to be rich.] [Am I the only one who feels bad for this poor background character? She spent two thousand dollars on his checkup, and he won’t even look at her.] [Stop. You’re hurting me. This is exactly how I do all the work at my job just for somebody else to take the credit.] … Right. Exactly zero people cared about me. While they were talking, I raced back into the booth, whipped out my enormous sack, and coolly shoveled the money inside. Both eyes were on duty—one standing guard, the other keeping watch. My ears stayed pricked for any movement outside. I’d drunk the wine for the male lead. Taking a little money wasn’t unreasonable, right? The sack was a bit big. A hundred thousand dollars didn’t even cover the bottom. My eyes swept around the room before landing on three unopened bottles of red wine. Well, hello. Château Lafite, 1982. My eyes lit up. I rubbed my hands together with a delighted grin. “Hey! What are you doing now?” I hadn’t even touched a bottle when Noah’s voice exploded beside me. I turned and found him staring at me with eyes as wide as headlights. I lurched sideways and accidentally kicked the sack toward his feet. The opening fell apart, exposing a flash of cash. I froze. We stared at each other. It was awkward, but all my brain could do was play that stupid line: My name isn’t Hey, it’s— Oh my God, brain, stop. [Oh, hell. I have thin skin. The secondhand embarrassment is killing me.] [Unbelievable. She actually went back for the money? Have some backbone. Is she really throwing away her dignity for cash?] [Honestly, Noah’s just an awkward kid who can’t admit his feelings. He clearly recognized her but refuses to say so. If she sweet-talks him a little, he’d probably give her a whole house.] I stared at the lines drifting past. My mouth fell open wide enough to fit an egg. Oh, wow. How was I involved in this now?Had I landed in the wrong book? On the surface, I was some disposable extra whose only purpose was to serve the male lead. But secretly, I was the rich boy’s girlfriend? Oh, my. I tossed my hair. What a surprise. Someone should’ve told me sooner. If I’d known I was dating a rich guy, why would I have worked dawn to dusk selling cold noodle salad? That stuff was exhausting to make and barely earned a thing. I studied Noah for three seconds, then deliberately pitched my voice higher. “Noah, I just saw all this money sitting here, all alone. I couldn’t bear to let it be lonely, so I put it away for you. We’re dating, after all.” A strange expression crossed Noah’s face. He looked as if he’d swallowed shit. Ethan, who had apparently entered without me noticing, grabbed my arm without another word. “Chloe Parker, stop embarrassing yourself. Come home with me.” … I wasn’t the only one stunned. Even the comments fell silent. After a long pause, a few scattered messages drifted past. [??? Why does the male lead know this extra? Did I miss something?] [You sure did. She’s not some irrelevant extra. The synopsis says she’s the male lead’s first love who dies young. She’s also the daughter of Noah’s former nanny.] […I really should know these novel tropes by now.] As the comments launched into a heated discussion, my smile collapsed. Seriously? All that mystery, and it turned out I was just doomed to die young. The comments explained my current identity: Ethan Grant’s tragic first love. And I would be dying very soon. Of starvation, no less. Because Ethan would rather die than accept charity, I scrimped and saved. I drank cold water so he could have porridge, ultimately becoming the first person in the modern age to successfully starve herself to death for a male lead. After I died, Ethan finally saw the light. He swallowed his pride, accepted other people’s help, and overcame endless hardships to become the richest man around. Then he grew old with the heroine. Lovely story. Author, please never write again. Now that I knew the ending, I started working Ethan over. At dinner, I frowned at the bowl of porridge the pampered young master had made, looking deeply wronged. “Good Lord. You call this porridge? I could take off my shoes and climb in, and not one grain of rice would stick between my toes.” Ethan held a bowl of cold water, misery written all over his face. “Chloe, there really isn’t anything left in the house.” With one hand on my hip and a spoon in the other, I shot him a glare. “Then go earn some money! What are you waiting for? A warm embrace from the wind?” “Oh.” Ethan lowered his head and fell silent. I looked down at him, feeling wonderfully satisfied. Then I opened a delivery app and ordered fried chicken, which I ate under his resentful gaze. Please. Even if the male lead starved to death, I wasn’t about to join him. We didn’t live like that for long before an opportunity arrived. One day, while I was working a casual shift, the comments exploded again. [Holy crap. He’s been living on watery porridge for almost two weeks, and he’s still pulling this shit? Come on! Can you get it together? Just take the money!] [I’m so anxious I’ve paced around my shoebox apartment ten times. All I can do is scratch my butt. I’ve never felt so helpless about not being able to reach through a screen and slap someone.] [God help me. I’ve already dug out every note I took in college. One word from Noah, and I’ll make him the king of study notes.] [First time I’ve ever hated a male lead for being so principled. If only our background girl were there.] [She’s got it rough. A full day of backbreaking work, and she still earns less than the spare change Noah’s handing out.] My hand stopped in the middle of mixing sauce for a customer. I whipped off my apron and walked away. Work? Screw work. I quit! When I reached the place mentioned in the comments, Ethan was clutching his notes, about to throw them in a trash can. I was furious. I marched up and smacked him hard across the back of the head. Then, under Noah’s stunned gaze, I handed the notes over. Noah stared at me blankly before placing a thick stack of bills in my hand. The comments erupted on cue: [Holy shit, our background girl delivers! Noah’s so sweet too. Manifesting this kind of luck!] [Honestly, Noah’s pretty pitiful. His parents died when he was little, and his grandpa raised him. Then he grew up, and Grandpa started favoring someone else. Sure, he loses it and gives the male lead a hard time, but all he ever does is hand him money. There’s no real humiliation. In the end, the male lead’s revenge drives him further and further from his grandpa, and he drinks himself to death in his eighty-million-dollar mansion.] [Exactly. He’s still thinking about his grandpa when he dies, not knowing the old man is already dead. The billionaire has cancer. He’s afraid nobody will look after Noah once he’s gone, and the male lead is so talented that he decides to support him, hoping he’ll take care of his grandson someday.] My heart ached. I couldn’t help looking at Noah with tenderness. Oh, you poor child. You don’t have to pretend to be strong anymore. Your backup has arrived!