I’m Just a Background Character, But I Used to Be a Delinquent, So Why Are the Girls Falling for Me?! - Chapter 1 - Nobody

I was never the type of guy people admired. Teachers hated me, students feared me, and my parents… well, they were tired of me.

People called me delinquent, a walking disaster. Maybe they weren’t wrong. I smoked behind the gym, skipped classes, and got into fights more times than I could count. My fists solved problems faster than words ever could.

But the truth? I wasn’t really evil. I just didn’t care about rules. The world already looked down on me, so why should I play by its standards?

Still, deep down, I wondered if this life was all I had. Nothing meaningful. Nothing worth remembering. Just a “troublemaker” everyone expected me to end up in jail… or worse.

Funny, isn’t it? How people are so quick to write someone’s ending for them.

The cigarette between my lips burned low, the bitter taste mixing with the faint smell of gasoline from the passing cars. Streetlights flickered above the cracked sidewalk, painting the night in a half-dead glow.

It was another boring night in the city, and like usual, I had nowhere better to be.

“Oi, Ren! You’re gonna get yourself killed standing there.”

I heard the voice of one of the guys I used to hangout, shouting from across the road. I didn’t bother answering. Instead, I shoved my hands deeper into my jacket pockets, and ignoring the cold breeze. My name was Ren Ito.

The name didn’t matter much. To most people, I was just that delinquent kid.

My eyes caught a glimpse of a book lying in the trash, and it instantly reminded me of my talk with Inzo.

“Ren-nii!”

A small voice called out, breaking the silence of my night. My little brother, Inzo. He was the only one who looked at me differently. To him, I wasn’t a failure. I was his Cool big brother, the one who walked him to school, the one who bought him snacks, and the one who protected him when Dad lost his temper.

He loved reading books, the kind with knights, dragons, and heroes. I’d catch him reading under his blanket until midnight, mumbling spells like he was actually inside those worlds.

“You should try reading this one, Ren-nii,” he said, his eyes sparkling as he shoved a thick book into my hands. “It’s so good! There’s a hero, a villain, and… oh, oh, there’s this weak noble kid who well, never mind, just read it!”

I never intended to read this book but if I wasn’t he’ll cried and im not the reading type but i don’t have a choice but read the book. His excitement stayed with me, even now.

Funny, huh? The only thing my little brother wanted was for me to read a book.

…And It’s doesn’t suit me.

The night grew colder. I lit another cigarette, watching the smoke curl toward the dim streetlamp. That’s when I noticed.

An old lady, frail and bent over, struggling with a cart of groceries. She stopped at the edge of the pedestrian lane, waiting for the light to change. But the traffic was insane tonight. Cars rushed past like beasts, horns blaring as if the city itself was in a hurry.

The green light flashed for her to cross. Slowly, step by step, she pushed her cart forward.

Then it happened.

A black car came speeding down the road, ignoring the red light.

The old lady froze, eyes wide with terror.

My body moved before my brain caught up. The cigarette fell from my mouth as I sprinted. My legs pounded against the concrete, lungs burning, the world slowing to a crawl.

“Get out of the way, old hag!” someone shouted from across the street.

But she didn’t move. She just stood there, paralyzed, death rushing toward her.

“Damn it…” I cursed under my breath.

I grabbed her thin arm and pulled her forward just as a truck came roaring from the corner.

The screech of tires. The deafening horn.

The pain hit me before I even realized what happened. My chest felt like it was crushed, my body thrown like a rag doll.

The last thing I saw was the old woman’s teary eyes staring at me. Her lips trembled as if she was saying something… but I couldn’t hear anymore.

My world turned black.

That’s how my story ended with a stupid headline, Delinquent Died in Accident.

But instead of silence, I heard…

Ding.

A faint chime, like a bell echoing inside my skull.

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was the ceiling. Not a hospital ceiling. Not the cracked white paint I was used to in my room.

This one was made of old wooden beams, dark and rough, with cobwebs in the corners.

I blinked. My whole body felt weak, like I hadn’t eaten in days. My arms were thin. My hands… pale, bony, almost fragile.

“What the hell…?” my voice came out weak.

I tried to sit up but dizziness slammed into me this hard mattress. The smell of damp wood filled my nose.

Then the door creaked open.

“Young master Callen, you’re awake,” a maid bowed lightly, her tone flat. She didn’t even look happy to see me.

Callen.

That name hit me like a stone.

Where… where had I heard that before?

After the maid left, the first thing I noticed was the smell. Not exhaust fumes or city smog, but old wood and dust. I was lying on a creaky bed, thin sheets scratching against my skin. My head spun as I sat up, groaning.

“Where… the hell… am I?” My voice cracked.

The room was small, lit by a single candle. Cracks ran across the ceiling. A desk with scattered papers stood in the corner, and beside it, a cracked mirror reflected a face that wasn’t mine.

Air stuck in my throat.

A young man with messy black hair, pale skin, and tired eyes stared back at me. Thin, weak, like someone who could be blown away by the wind.

And then… memories.

They slammed into me like a video.

Callen Verdan.

The name repeated in my head over and over. A noble but Weak, Talentless and a laughingstock.

What worse… a side character from the very book my brother begged me to read.

“No way…” I whispered, clutching my head. “This is… that novel…?”

Bits of the story pieced together in my mind. The protagonist, the destined hero. The rival noble houses. The wars and betrayals.

And Callen Verdan.

I remembered clearly he was mentioned once. Only once. A side character who tried to act tough at a banquet, got humiliated, and died tomorrow morning after the banquet. This weakling destined to vanish before the real story even began.

“Callen…” I whispered.

This wasn’t a dream.

I had died in my world. And now, I was reborn as a doomed extra in a book I barely remembered.

Five months from now Callen Verdan died and was forgotten forever.

I clenched my fists.

No way.

No damn way I would let that happen.

I didn’t save a grandma just to end up as trash in another world.

If the author of this world thought I’d die like some weakling, then too bad. I’m not Callen Verdan, and I’m not going down like that.

I clenched my fist, ignoring the shiver in my thin arms.

“I’ll change it,” I whispered to the cracked mirror. “I don’t care if I’m weak, I’m not dying here. Not this time.”

And somewhere, deep inside, I swore and i laugh.

I’m not the one who should be scared. Fate will regret dragging me into this mess, and the writer of this tale will choke on their own plot.

The morning came far too early.

The mattress beneath me did nothing for my aching back. When the sun’s first rays slipped through the cracked shutters, I groaned and pulled myself up.

This body was hopeless. Every movement felt heavy. My legs shook as though they hadn’t run in years. Even walking across the room made my breathing hard.

“So this is what it feels like to be garbage,” I sighed, pressing my forehead. “The body’s owner was already pathetic… and the author made him even worse.”

The memories were clearer now, settling like dust in a forgotten library. Callen Verdan. Son of a noble family. His father was a head knight and a Duke, trusted by the King. His mother came from a Noble from other country. But his still an outcast in noble society.

But it wasn’t the bloodline.

Callen was weak. He had no talent with the sword. No gift for magic. No cunning for politics. He was the kind of character written into a story to exist, and then disappear.

A throwaway.

No wonder the maid looked at me with indifference. In her eyes, I was just a weak master of a crumbling household.

I laughed bitterly. “From a delinquent to a joke of a noble. What kind of twisted fate is this?”

When I stepped outside my room, the hallway was just as pathetic. Dim light, peeling wallpaper, and dust in every corner.

Two servants stood near the stairs, whispering.

“Did you hear? Young Master Callen collapsed again. Useless, as always.”

“He’s a burden. If not for the family name, he wouldn’t even be here.”

They didn’t even bother to lower their voices when they saw me. They simply bowed half-heartedly and walked away.

I clenched my jaw.

Back in my old life, if anyone had talked to me like that, my fist would’ve been in their face before they could blink. But now? I barely had the strength to stay standing.

This was humiliation in its rawest form.

Unable to take the humiliation any longer, I turned away and decided to return to my room.

The door to my room creaked open. A thin boy about my age maybe younger poked his head inside. His nose wrinkled in disgust the moment his eyes landed on me.

“Callen, you’re still in bed?” His tone dripped with mockery. “Father said even failures like you should at least pretend to be useful. Or is getting up too much work?”

A wave of Callen’s memories told me who he was Darren Verdan, my cousin, currently staying here with the rest of my other cousins. It had become a tradition for all the children of the Verdan family to live under the head’s roof, competing for the right to inherit the position. Darren was smug and arrogant, already training as a knight, and he seemed to savor every moment he could use to remind me of my uselessness.

I forced myself to stand, though my knees almost gave out. “Go to hell.”

He looked shocked at first, his face darkening, but then a smirk tugged at his lips. “Careful, cousin. Words like that might get you in trouble. But then again… no one would care.”

He left laughing, the sound echoing through the narrow halls.

My jaw tightened.

This was how Callen lived mocked, ignored, forgotten. A worm crawling in the dirt of noble society.

But I wasn’t him. Not anymore, not on my watch.

Breakfast was held in the main dining hall. A long table stretched across the room, but only a few seats were occupied. Darren sat proudly beside his father, chewing loudly and and at the far end… my “father.”

Duke Verdan.

His face was stern, his hair graying, his eyes sharp. He didn’t even glance at me as I sat down.

A plate was set before me the bread was hard it could break my teeth, and soup was tasteless like a water.

I tried to eat, but the taste was worse than it looked. The maids served us with blank faces, but I noticed it their subtle sneers, the way they looked down at me.

In my old life, I was a delinquent. People feared me. Here, I wasn’t feared. I was pitied. Mocked. Hated.

I gripped the spoon tighter.

So this is what it meant to be Callen Verdan

Across a few more cousins whispered, throwing glances my way.

“Don’t choke on it, Callen. Wouldn’t want you dying before your… oh wait.” He smirked. “Maybe that would save us all the embarrassment.”

Laughter filled the hall.

Heat burned under my skin, but I forced myself to stay calm. Exploding now would only confirm their image of me. Instead, I chewed slowly, eyes lowered.

Inside, though, my thoughts were sharp.

Laugh while you can, bastards. I’m not dying this time. I’ll make sure you choke on your own words.

Time passed, I decided to step outside. The estate grounds stretched wide, though they weren’t particularly impressive. Training fields where knights sparred, gardens where servants bustled, and beyond that, the forest line cut across the horizon.

I watched the knights for a while, swords clashing, sparks flying as steel met steel. My hands twitched, longing to hold a weapon. But when I glanced down at my thin arms, I nearly laughed.

This body wasn’t built for battle. If I tried to spar, I’d collapse before landing a single hit.

Still… I had knowledge.

I remembered the book’s events. Who lived. Who died. Which alliances formed, which betrayals shattered the kingdom.

As the day went on, whispers followed me through the estate. Servants smirked when they thought I wasn’t looking. Cousins sneered openly. Darren made sure every knight trainee heard about “the useless Verdan boy who can’t even lift a wooden sword.”

By evening, I was exhausted. Not from work I’d barely done anything but from the constant weight of humiliation pressing down on me.

I collapsed back onto my creaky bed, staring at the cracked ceiling.

Five months.

That’s all I had.

And yet, despite the fear crawling inside me, a grin spread across my face.

Because unlike the Callen in the book, I wasn’t planning to roll over.

You all think I’m trash? Fine. I’ll use that. I’ll turn your mockery into my fuel. And when the time comes… you’ll regret ever laughing at me.

As darkness consumed the night, I sat by the cracked window, staring at the moon. My mind refused to quiet.

Callen. This character… he wasn’t important. He wasn’t loved. He wasn’t strong. He was just written to die so the main characters could shine.

But I remembered something else.

The heroine.

In the book, she was a strong woman and the crown prince older sister. She was trained in both sword and magic. She had the kind of beauty that made men kneel and women admire. But more than her looks, it was her spirit fearless, determined, unwilling to bow to anyone.

I remembered thinking, when I skimmed those chapters, “Damn, if she were real, she’d never even look at a guy like me.”

Now, in this world, she existed. Somewhere out there.

And if the story didn’t change, I’d be dead before she even noticed I was alive.

I looked down at my weak hands. Thin arms, trembling fingers. The body of someone destined to fail.

But inside, I was still the guy who fought, who broke rules, who spat in the face of anyone who tried to step on him.

In my old world, I had no purpose. But here? Fate itself gave me one.

“I won’t die in five months” I whispered to the night.

I didn’t care if I was weak, powerless, or hated. I’d claw my way out of this ending. I’d twist the story with my own hands.

And maybe… just maybe… I’d make even that untouchable heroine look my way.

Because if there’s one thing I knew about myself, I never follow some stupid rules and now even a novel?.

Nah..I burn it.

That night, as I drifted to sleep, a strange feeling stirred in my chest. Like a faint spark weak, but alive.

Was it determination? Or something else?

I didn’t know.

But I did know one thing that Callen Verdan, the nobody destined to die in five months… was about to write a new story.

To be continued….