The Audience Voted for Me to Save the Lost Prince

Id just tossed my half-finished iced coffee cup into a trash can on the way home from school when a translucent wall of text exploded in the air right in front of me.

[Whats up with this shot? Why are they sticking to this random background extra?]

[OMG! Isn't this the opening of Chapter One from the original novel! That exact trash can!]

[Wait, did that background girl just look twice at the bin? Was that in the script?]

I froze, the strap of my heavy backpack clenched in my hand.

What was that?

The words hung in the air, like closed captions or a video stream overlay, but clearer, with a distinct, glowing edge.

[Look, ladies! The iced coffee cup in her hand! Its the first food Landon picks up in the book!]

[Background Sis, dont throw it out! Twenty feet ahead, turn right into the alleytheres a kid there whos about to pass out from hunger!]

[Thats Landon Pierce! The real heir! His stepmom dumped him there seven years ago!]

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I whirled around. The street was empty. The after-school rush had dissipated, and there was no one speaking to me.

A hallucination?

01

But the words kept scrolling:

[Waaaah, Landon, my baby! Mom loves you! Please, Background Sis, go check on him!]

[According to the original plot, he gets low blood sugar tonight, ends up in the hospital, where Sylvie finds him and tricks him into signing away his inheritance.]

[Is the background actress ad-libbing? But her expression is so real]

I wasn't an actress.

My name is Ainsley Rowe, a totally average seventeen-year-old junior at Crestview High. Mid-range grades, totally forgettable looks. The kind of person youd never spot in a crowd.

But those comments they were talking about me.

On pure, dizzying impulse, I retrieved the coffee cup from the trash. It wasn't dirty. I also dug out the second lunch container my mom had insisted I take from my backpack and walked toward the direction the text indicated.

My heart was beating so fast it felt like it would shatter my ribs.

Foundry Lane was worse than I imagined.

Peeled paint, puddles of foul water everywhere. The late autumn wind cut through the narrow gap between the buildings, chilling me to the bone.

In the deepest corner of the alley, a boy was crouched by a dumpster, reaching for a discarded bottle.

He was wearing a faded, gray hoodie, the hood pulled low. I could only see a pale jawline and cracked lips.

His fingers were long and slender, chapped red from the cold, yet there was a strange, almost expensive quality to them.

Um

He spun around.

His hood slipped, and I saw his eyes. They were like two pools of stagnant water, black and utterly devoid of light.

The pop-up text went wild:

[Aaaah! Its Landon! Screenshot this! What is she waiting for?]

[My heart breaks seeing how he looks at people Thrown out for seven years, he trusts no one.]

[Background Sis, say something! Just say you accidentally bought an extra coffee!]

I swallowed hard, holding out the items. I I grabbed the wrong size on my latte, too much caffeine for me. And my mom packed me a second lunch container by mistake. Would you mind helping me out? Otherwise, Ill get an earful at home for wasting food.

I stammered through the ridiculous lie.

He stared at me, then at the Tupperware, his Adam's apple bobbing.

[Hes struggling! He knows accepting charity is humiliating, but hes starving!]

[Hes been hungry for two days; only found half a stale baguette yesterday.]

[Quick, tell him youre from Crestview! Increase the credibility score!]

Im a junior at Crestview High, I said, pointing to my school hoodie. I live right up the street in the Willow Creek apartments. Im not a bad person.

His eyelashes trembled. ...Thank you, he whispered, barely a sound.

When he took the container, his fingertips brushed mine. They were ice cold, like marble.

He squatted back against the wall, opened the container, and ate slowly.

He chewed every bite for a long time, as if his stomach had forgotten how to function.

The pop-ups began to flood the screen:

[First meal achievement unlocked! Bless you, Background Sis!]

[Who is this actress? Shes doing a great job; that tentative kindness is so real.]

[This wasn't in the original book! Is this an adaptation?]

[Who cares! As long as Landon gets fed!]

My throat tightened with emotion.

When he finished, I asked softly, Um Could I look for you again tomorrow? My mom genuinely over-packs every day. I really need help eating it all.

He looked up, a faint ripple disturbing the dead water in his eyes.

After a long pause, he nodded.

Okay.

02

I didnt sleep well that night.

The pop-up text flickered in my mind:

[Checked it out! The Background Sis actress is Ainsley Rowe, a newbie, doesnt even have an Instagram.]

[The key thing is she changed the plot! Landon was supposed to pass out tonight!]

[If she keeps bringing him food, will Sylvie never find him?]

[But Sylvie is already looking for him. Her P.I. will find Foundry Lane by next week at the latest.]

[Im dying here! Can someone send a reminder to her?]

Wait. I sat bolt upright in bed.

The pop-ups can see me? They think Im in a show?

Which meant I, and Landon, were living inside a script, and they were the audience?

The realization was terrifying, making my hands and feet go cold.

But the next second, I saw a new comment:

[I wish the Background Sis could see the pop-ups. Tell her to move Landon out of the alley NOW!]

I took a deep breath, whispering toward the empty air: I I can see them.

The pop-ups froze for three seconds.

Then, they erupted:

[???????]

[Did I just hear a voice-over???]

[No she sounded like she was talking to us???]

[The Fourth Wall is shattered!!!]

I gathered my courage. You mentioned someone named Sylvie. When will she find this place?

The text scrolled at warp speed:

[HOLY CRAP! It's interactive!!!]

[What is this tech? VR captioning???]

[Next week! Wednesday at the latest! Sylvies private investigator is already in the West End!]

[Landon is staying in that abandoned electrical shed deep inside Foundry Lane!]

[Background Sis, save him! His stepmom set him up! His mother left him a 30% stake in the company!]

The information overload was dizzying.

But the core mission was clear: Save Landon.

The next day, I brought a double lunch, plus a duffel bag of my cousins old clothes.

When I found Landon, he was meticulously organizing salvaged cardboard, his movements painfully efficient.

Landon.

He turned. Seeing the bag in my hand, he paused.

My mom went through my cousins closet. He outgrew all this. If you dont mind

I dont mind. He took the bag, his voice still faint. Thank you.

We sat together on a cracked concrete pipe, eating.

He seemed slightly better today; his hands weren't shaking as badly.

How old are you? I asked.

Seventeen.

Not in school?

...I was, dropped out in eighth grade. He picked at his food. The shelter only provides housing until youre fifteen.

A pop-up drifted by:

[He says it lightly, but he was actually kicked out because he aged out and had nowhere to go.]

[He hitchhiked back, thinking his dad would look for him, but saw Sylvie and her lover celebrating at the Pierce mansion.]

[He stood across the street all night, then just walked away.]

A heavy ache settled in my chest.

If if you could go back to school, would you?

His utensil stopped halfway to his mouth.

After a long pause, he said quietly, Yes.

I dream about it.

03

I started bringing him food every day, telling my mom I was helping a financially struggling classmate. She would beam at me and praise my thoughtfulness.

She gave me my younger brothers hand-me-downs and even increased my allowance.

I tried to slip him some cash occasionally. He refused. I countered, Its a loan. You can pay me back later.

He accepted everything, but insisted on keeping a ledger.

The words in the small, scavenged notebook were surprisingly neat, unlike what a street kid would write:

Nov 7. Lunch (Ainsley)

Nov 8. Winter jacket (Ainsley)

Nov 9. 11th Grade Physics textbook (Ainsley)

I told him not to bother, but he shook his head. I have to pay it back.

The pop-ups provided a daily intelligence briefing:

[Sylvies lover is Trenton Hall, now the Pierce Corp. VP. They plan to marry as soon as Landon turns eighteen.]

[Old Man Edward Pierce is sick. The will isnt finalized. Sylvie is rushing to find Landon to force a signature.]

[The PI has his picture, but hasnt confirmed his identity yet.]

On Wednesday afternoon, I skipped study hall to bring him a scarfa thick, dark gray one Id bought with my saved allowance.

As I reached the alley entrance, I saw two men in dark suits questioning the owner of the corner store.

Seventeen or eighteen, kinda lean, pale. Might be scavenging in this area.

My heart seized. I ducked behind a utility pole.

Pop-up alarm:

[Its Trenton Halls people! Theyve found the neighborhood!]

[In the original plot, the store owner is the one who gives them directions!]

[Background Sis, grab Landon and run!]

I raced into the alley. Landon was reading the physics textbook, the setting sun catching his eyelashes. He looked peaceful, like a painting.

Landon! Pack up. We need to leave now!

He looked up, confused.

Someone is looking for you. They dont look like good people. Sweat pricked my skin. Maybe debt collectors?

It was a clumsy lie, but he bought it. After seven years on the streets, he was familiar with malice.

Okay. He closed the book, retrieved his ledger from under a stack of cardboard. I know a bridge abutment not far from here.

Wait. I grabbed his sleeve. You cant keep hiding.

I looked him in the eye. Give me a week. Ill figure out a place for you to stay, and get you back into school.

His pupils dilated slightly.

Why? His voice was hoarse. Why are you doing so much for me?

The pop-ups rolled:

[Tell him you cant stand it!]

[Say you want to save him!]

[The real reason is we gave her the spoilers]

But I couldn't say that.

Because I heard my own voice tremble. Because you deserve to be treated well.

His eyelashes looked damp.

Okay.

04

That night, I did something incredibly daring.

Following the clues from the pop-ups, I found the number for Harrison Reid, the former legal counsel for Pierce Corp.

He was a long-time associate of Landon's deceased mother, Helena Pierce, and had always suspected foul play in her "accident."

I used a payphone outside a convenience store.

Mr. Reid, Im Ainsley Rowe. I think I know where Landon Pierce is.

Silence on the other end.

Do you know the consequences of making a false claim?

He has a red mole behind his left ear, and a burn scar on the web of his right hand. He got it when he knocked over the candles on his seventh birthday.

I rushed the words out. Hes using the name Landon now, and hes staying in the West End, but he has to move tonight. Sylvies people are closing in. If they find him first, hell be forced to sign a property waiver, and then hell accidentally die.

A longer silence.

What do you want? Harrison Reids voice was low and guarded.

First, guarantee his safety. Second, get him into school. Third dont bring him back to the Pierce mansion yet. Not until hes capable of protecting himself.

Youre just a student.

Which is why Sylvie wont suspect me. I said. Mr. Reid, if you want to honor the memory of Ms. Helena Pierce, you need to trust me.

I hung up, my legs shaking too much to stand.

The pop-ups erupted in cheers:

[Background Sis is a certified badass! She went straight to the key NPC!]

[Harrison only found Landon after three years in the original book, and by then it was too late!]

[This pushed the plot forward by at least six months!]

But I knew the trouble had just begun.