Jerry tumbled through the endless fall, his body twisting in the void before he crashed hard against an uneven floor. He winced, sucking in air, but kept his eyes shut at first. Slowly, his hand slid across the rough surface, checking for cracks, spikes, or sudden death traps. When all he felt was stone, he let out a shaky exhale.
Cautiously, he opened his eyes-only to realize the ground wasn't ground at all. His stomach flipped. He was standing on the rooftop of a towering building, so high that the night air seemed colder up there.
"Wha-AAHHH!" Jerry screamed, dropping flat and hugging a small tower spire on the edge like his life depended on it. His fingers dug into the stone. "No no no no no, what the hell!?"
The world around him looked straight out of a historical costume drama-lanterns, tiled rooftops, distant shouts echoing through the palace walls. He glanced down at himself, and his blood ran cold. Black robes. A hood. A veil covering half his face. A full-blown assassin outfit.
"...Did I-did I seriously land in the novel? That bloody system told me to 'stay alive' and threw me on top of a three-story building! How am I supposed to stay alive, huh!?" He whispered fiercely to no one, eyes darting for an escape.
The clang of a bell rang through the night. Heavy boots pounded against stone below. A commanding voice barked, "Assassin! Protect the Crown Prince!"
Jerry's heart nearly exploded. "...Assassin? Why? Why now?!"
An arrow whizzed past his cheek, making him freeze. His gaze snapped to his own outfit again. Veil. Dark robes.
"Oh no. No no no. I am the assassin!?" His voice cracked. "Simple task, don't die, huh? Yeah right!"
He scrambled across the rooftop on all fours, moving like an untrained cat. His breath hitched as arrows flew. He swerved left, wobbled right-then one arrow struck straight into his chest.
Pain exploded through him. His foot slipped. His body tipped off the edge, mind spinning. That's it. Failed the task. Dead in my first five minutes. Nice going, Jerry.
His scream ripped through the night-then suddenly, he was back on the rooftop again.
Jerry sat there, trembling, patting his chest frantically. No wound. No arrow. Nothing.
He blinked in shock. "...I didn't die?"
The system's voice purred in his ear, amused:
"Correction, Host. You died. But in this world, your deaths will simply restart your task. That is-until your final life runs out."
"How many do I have?"
"Host, you have nine lifes and you used up one already. Now eight to go." The system chimed.
"Eight more. Okay I'll be careful." Jerry said, taking a long breath. He crawled along the roof, muttering like a monk at prayer: left hand, right hand, don't look down.
He reached the edge and spotted a wooden clothesline pole stretching between rooftops.
"Perfect. Acrobat Jerry reporting in."
He held his breath, placed a foot on the narrow beam-wobbling like a jelly on stilts-and halfway across, a cat meowed.
"Not the time-ahhh!"
One startled glance and his foot slipped. He flailed wildly, arms windmilling, and belly-flopped into the empty air with a dramatic:
"I BELIEVED IN YOU, WOODEN POLE!"
Darkness. Restart. Rooftop again.
🐱
Life No. 3
Jerry hit the rooftop hard, the cold tiles pressing into his back as his breath scattered into the night air. He groaned, lifting his head just enough to glare at the endless sea of roof ridges.
YOU ARE READING
Help! I'm the Plot Device: Just Here to Save the Heroes
Fanfiction🧶🐱🧶 Better late than never... dedicated to DaNa020521, who laughs like it's their superpower, somehow survives my chaotic scribbles, and feels things a little more deeply than most. Thank you🪄 🧶🐱🧶 Jerry's vision swam. Am I... dying? No, not l...
