Help! I'm the Plot Device: Just Here to Save the Heroes

Kitty, Pour Me Another Cup

With a vicious snap, he hurled the spear. It tore through the breastplate of an armour in the corner, splitting metal like paper.

Jerry jumped, his elbow smacking into a shield. It clattered to the ground, echoing like thunder in the silence.

Yuanzhou's head whipped toward the sound. His gaze sharpened, footsteps slow and deliberate as he walked toward the fallen shield.

"Host," the system whispered, "if I were you... I'd run."

Jerry scrambled, crouching low, slipping behind racks. His breath came ragged as Yuanzhou's shadow lengthened closer. In one desperate burst, he darted through the door, circling behind.

Yuanzhou turned, but the corridor was empty. His eyes lingered on the silence, sharp, searching-then finally, he walked away.

Only after he was gone did Jerry crawl out from another corner, pale, shaking, muttering under his breath.
"The Emperor just signed his own death warrant."

The system hummed. "And his son just sharpened the blade."

🐱🧶🐱

Prince Yichen's Chamber

Jerry slammed his chamber door shut behind him and leaned against it, sweat prickling down his back. The memory of the armoury, of Zhao Yuanzhou's fury, still clung to his skin.

He glanced at the polished bronze mirror by his bed. The figure staring back wore silks embroidered with golden cranes, the very picture of a spoiled royal. Jerry groaned.

"System, if I stay here any longer I'll choke on imperial drama.

Host, staying alive would be the wiser choice.

Jerry tilted his head outside. The palace wall loomed above, tall, lacquered tiles catching the last of the sun. His lips twisted. "Yeah, wiser. But sanity comes first."

His eyes roamed the room until they fell on a chest in the corner. Inside, folded neatly, were plain robes-servant's wear, travel coats, the sort of thing a prince probably kept only for disguises during mischief. Jerry grinned.

He tugged off the heavy outer robes, wincing as fabric brushed the fresh welts on his back, and slipped into a simple indigo tunic. A loose sash, a travel cloak with a hood, and soft boots completed the look. When he turned back to the mirror, the pampered prince had vanished. In his place stood a weary young man who could pass for a wandering scholar.

Jerry tilted his head and smirked. "Much better. Royal menace to street rat in ten minutes."

He eased the window open and climbed out, careful to avoid the courtyard where his attendants lingered. The palace wall was high, but he managed after a few clumsy pulls, landing on the other side with a hiss of pain in his ribs.

Night had settled, the city beyond alive with torches and lanterns. He pulled up his hood, merged with the crowd, and for the first time since waking in this world, felt almost free.

Jerry's lips parted. "Finally, oxygen."

The streets bustled with life-hawkers calling over sizzling skewers, children darting with paper lanterns shaped like rabbits, fortune tellers shaking bamboo sticks at their stalls. Jerry slowed his pace, soaking in the sound and scent of it all. Here, no one bowed, no one scowled at the "second prince." Here, he was invisible.

A stall of candied hawthorns caught his attention, the skewers gleaming red in the firelight. His stomach rumbled. Jerry fished for a coin pouch he'd swiped from the chamber chest and paid quickly, biting into the crisp sugar shell with a sigh of delight.