In the dim, narrow alley, a bunch of punks with flashy hair colors were circling around a skinny kid, jeering at him.

"Well, well, Lucas Grant. Bet you didn't think you'd end up like this, huh?"

The head punk gave the half-unconscious boy a hard kick in the leg, bursting into loud laughter.

Somewhere nearby, there was a faint crackling sound.

"Don’t blame me. Your gambling-addict dad should’ve paid up."

“Crack, crack…”

The leader twitched at the noise, clearly annoyed but holding it in.

"If it weren’t for that half-decent face of yours, I wouldn’t even bother..."

“Crack, crack.”

That was it. He lost it.

"Who’s munching on damn sunflower seeds?! Get your ass out here!"

Harlan Moore glanced around innocently, a handful of seeds in his palm, pretending like he had nothing to do with it.

Too bad the punks next to him weren’t buying it. They all backed off at once, leaving Harlan awkwardly pushed out to the front.

Seeing the boss glaring at him, Harlan slowly opened his hand, revealing the seeds.

"You want some?"

The punk’s eyes landed on the plump seeds, and oddly enough, they did look better than the junk you’d buy outside.

Tempted, he grabbed a handful, tossed one into his mouth—and then his face lit up.

"You!"

He pointed at Harlan.

"Not bad. Know how to please your boss, huh?"

"Alright then, you’re in charge of taking those dirty pics."

Harlan: "Wait, what?!"

That definitely wasn’t how the script went.

But the punk boss didn’t care what Harlan thought. He snatched the rest of his seeds, gave him a firm pat on the shoulder.

"I’ve got faith in you, kid. Nail this one, and there’s benefits in it for you."

With that, he swaggered off with his gang, leaving Harlan alone in the dark alley—with the so-called protagonist of this world, Lucas Grant.

Yep, Lucas was the main guy here. And Harlan? He was just a low-level extra the Fast-Travel Bureau sent over to play cannon fodder.

Not that he minded. With the rise of the Villain and Second Male Lead Divisions, everyone was scrambling to get into the hot departments.

As for people like Harlan—looking for a chill job and early retirement—the Cannon Fodder Department was where it’s at. Low stress, low score, but somebody had to do it.

He sighed, squatted down, and casually poked Lucas’s arm.

Ouch. Just bones.

Damn, the guy was seriously underfed.

And that punk boss still wanted to take pics like that? What’s he gonna shoot—ribs?

Viewers are picky these days, okay? Harlan griped in his mind while pulling out more sunflower seeds to snack on.

Crunch, crunch—the noise echoed in the quiet alley.

—

Lucas came to because of that sound.

The relentless crunching of sunflower seeds cut through the darkness, like static blaring from an old TV after the signal cuts.

Groaning, he cracked open his eyes.

A boy was squatting beside him, focused on his seeds like it was the best thing in the world.

His skin looked pale under the dim light, but those lips—a rich, bright red—stood out impressively.

So pretty it was almost surreal.

Lucas stared for a second, then slowly dropped his gaze.

Bits and pieces came back—getting beaten up, then something about humiliating photos before everything went black.

But now? The punks were gone.

Only this boy was left.So... was it him who saved me?

Lucas Grant gently pressed his lips together.

Just then, Harlan Moore noticed he was awake and said with a grin, "Finally, you're up."

Without hesitation, Harlan shoved the pack of sunflower seeds into Lucas’s hand. "You're awake, so let’s get that photo done."

Once that was done, his job here was over, and he could finally crash for a nap.

He pulled out his phone, flipped to the front cam, and leaned closer to Lucas. With the phone in his right hand, he threw up a peace sign with his left.

"Look at the camera."

Lucas's lashes trembled slightly, but he didn’t follow the cue. Instead, he lowered his gaze, staring at the boy in front of him.

Harlan was a bit shorter, and now that he was squatting, leaning in, his fair, delicate collarbone was suddenly in Lucas’s line of sight—completely unintentional on the boy’s part.

Click. Harlan didn’t even glance at the shot before tucking his phone back into his pocket and reaching for his seeds.

But his eyes landed on the small pile of seeds, now smeared with Lucas’s blood.

The bright red against the striped shells carried the sharp tang of iron.

Harlan’s hand froze mid-move.

It was just a few seeds… given to the main guy, no big deal, right? No biggie.

That’s what he told himself, but his eyes still got a little shiny. Those were limited edition seeds he’d worked hard to hoard. The gang leader snatched a whole handful, and now he had to give the rest away?

Nobody said side characters had to turn in snacks to do their job!

Frustrated and heartbroken, Harlan clutched the little white blob in his mind and gave it a good rub.

The system, dazed: [Host?]

Harlan air-patted the fuzzy thing: [It's fine.]

While he mourned for his snacks, Lucas’s fingers slowly curled around the bloody seeds in his palm.

They were still slightly warm—his icy blood soaking into that lingering heat, sticky and stiff.

He lifted his head and noticed Harlan’s slightly pink eyes. Lucas tried to speak, but no words came out—he’d lost too much blood.

Still, he couldn’t help wondering—was the boy tearing up… because of him?

So kind…

Lucas raised one hand, fingers trembling as they brushed the corner of Harlan’s eye.

He squeezed out two hoarse words. "Don’t cry."

Harlan: ?!?

He practically jumped back.

"You’re the one crying! Your whole family’s crying!"

It was just some seeds, okay?! He… he totally didn’t care!

Anyway, job’s done, main guy’s not dying—time for this filler NPC to disappear, ASAP.

Harlan shot Lucas a look. "You owe me a pack of seeds. I’m writing it down."

"Don’t forget."

With that, he threw a glance out the alleyway. The sky was almost completely dark now. No more hesitation—he strode off.

Lucas watched his back until it vanished from sight, then dropped his gaze and opened his bloodstained palm.

The seeds, plump and fragrant despite the dark stains, gave off a scent that made his stomach tighten.

He picked one up, cracked it with his teeth, shell and all, and swallowed it down.

A moment later, it felt like a wave of warmth rolled from his stomach to his limbs, slowly pushing out the cold.

Lucas stared at the seeds in his hand, eyes dark and unreadable.

"Trying to keep me alive, huh?"

He murmured the words, as the dim flame in his eyes suddenly roared back to life.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Alive. He wanted to stay alive, properly.