"That voice... it sounds like Mulya..."
I became aware again—my body was still lying down, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. My hand reached around, and it didn't feel like the cheap folding mattress I bought online with a discount voucher.
"You've got to be kidding me."
My voice was different. I instantly sat up.
Long hair brushed against my neck and down to my shoulders.
"A girl's voice?!"
I touched my hair—it was smooth, unlike mine. Long and clean. Panicked? Of course. This was terrifying. I hoped this was just a dream, but then I saw my short legs and looked at my own hands—small and delicate.
"So this isn't a dream?"
I tried to stand up—but wasn't I already awake? This felt real. Even the warmth of my body felt real. All my senses were active. My breath was heavy from the shock, and I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. My blood pressure spiked.
Trying to calm down, I turned to my right. There, a grown woman was asleep, sitting on the floor with her head resting on the bed. I looked to my left—a grown man, also sleeping in the same position.
"Ahh, so this is real... Is this the world of Pe and Kob?"
I smirked. Pe and Kob was just a joke title I made up from the word Pekob.
The voice that called me to this world was exactly like my ex's. Not only that, the loading bar system I saw before transmigrating into this novel—the one I only wrote the premise for, where even the prologue wasn't finished—was real.
I scooted back to the edge of the bed and leaned against the wall.
"Fate is so cruel," I muttered with a heavy mind.
Not only was I transmigrated. I even became a girl.
"So this is what the system meant about the body..."
"Why didn't it send me into a finished script? Why into one where even the prologue isn't done..."
Unconsciously, I started crying—small sobs...
The sobbing was heard and woke up the man sleeping on the left side of the bed.
"Lala!! You're awake?!"
His voice was loud and panicked.
The man's voice also woke the woman on the right side.
"Lala?! Thank goodness, sweetie, you had me so worried!"
The woman reflexively hugged my body tightly as my sobbing stopped.
"E-ehh?"
I was confused—what exactly was happening?
"What's wrong, sweetie?"
The man asked while stroking my head.
"W-who are you two?"
Of course I'd ask. I didn't understand a thing. I tried not to think about what was going on, but this situation was too vague for me to ignore.
"W-what do you mean, Lala?"
The woman asked with a confused look on her face.
Then the man followed up:
"Lala, don't scare us like that..."
His tone was gentle—so different from when he just woke up.
But seriously, I didn't know who they were.
"...I really don't know who you are."
I said this to convince them—hoping they would explain who I was, who they were, where we were... and Lala? Was that my name?
"Who is Lala?"
I asked them again.
"Honey, what does she mean?"
The woman turned to the man who was now standing beside the bed.
"No way...!"
The man whispered, his face now pale.
I looked at them both—their faces dripping with sweat. The woman was crying. The man tried to stay calm, but his eyes were heavy with worry.
Then it hit me—these two were the parents of this body.
But I still felt like Yoga. Now I had to become Lala.
"Sweetie, do you really not remember?"
The woman looked anxious, beads of sweat rolling down her forehead like corn kernels, tears still streaming.
"I don't understand..."
I murmured, though I really didn't want to say it.
The man hugged the two of us. He spoke—his voice soft and calming.
"It's okay, Lala. Your mother and I will take care of you."
As a fellow man in my previous life, I understood that feeling. The man—who now called himself "Father"—was trying to stay rational. Men rely on logic and experience.
When I was Yoga Permana, I did the same—sitting on the front porch, trying to stay calm, figuring out solutions to problems from every direction.
The definition of being a man is to endure without telling stories.
That's what it means to be a man.
After they calmed down and explained things, I finally understood:
I was Lala Rosalia, daughter of Dave Rodriguez and Liria Elphene.
This child's age—or rather, my current age—was four years old.
But my soul was a 22-year-old man with intact memories of a past life.
This family lived in Carrington Village, the birthplace of the novel's protagonist.
They also told me the current timeline: Year 666, Month 6, Day 6.
Which means... this is the premise of the novel.
I wrote it just like this—the story begins when the protagonist is four years old in that year.
"The protagonist's age is the same as mine..."
Now I was more certain. This world is Pe and Kob.
The problem is, the novel isn't even written yet.
I don't know what will happen in the future—but I do know the big picture.
As a writer, I know how a story can evolve—often drastically from the original plan.
I also remembered a pirate comic I used to read in my past life.
The author once said it would end in five years, yet twenty years later it still wasn't finished—with over a thousand chapters and still going.
And here I was—in a novel where the prologue hadn't even been written.
So this isn't a novel anymore—this is real life, with a big picture I only somewhat understand.
James is the protagonist of Pe and Kob.
Ryan is the rival and best friend—also his childhood friend.
Natasya is the main heroine, also a childhood friend of theirs.
They all live in this village—the same village as me.
"Let me try to remember..."
Clearly, they are future heroes.
This world will face war in the future.
"Can I live a peaceful life?"
I already decided on two endings for the story.
A good ending, where the protagonist saves the world.
A bad ending, my second plan in case the villain becomes too strong—one where the protagonist fails and is defeated.
"What if I don't interfere? The story should go on without me anyway."
One thing I'm grateful for right now is that I'm just a background character—an unimportant village NPC.
But one thing crossed my mind—
"Could Lala also be an important character? Because of a developing conflict?"
Even more so because this is a fantasy novel.
The logic from my old life doesn't apply here anymore,
But my experiences as an adult might help guide them.
Outside the house, I looked through my bedroom window.
Dave and Liria didn't allow me to leave the house.
The surroundings looked like rural areas on Earth, with rice fields all around—just like the Carrington Village I designed.
But then I found a book about magic.
"Pe and Kob... Pekob... if you reverse it, this would get banned on a writing platform..."
All I wanted was to write comedy—
So why did I end up trapped in this joke?
"Dear God... I swear, I'll never be lazy about writing again..."
And I thought maybe that system would show up again.
Maybe because this isn't my body,
Just the body of an extra.
Maybe...
The current time setting is the year 666, month 6, day 6. When I first created the premise, this was the time I intended to use in the prologue, before the protagonist's main story begins.
The protagonist lives in this village alongside their rival and the main heroine, but I have a problem right now. I can't leave the house.
Why? Because the parents of this child's body are afraid the same thing will happen again.
Dave and Liria never told me what happened before I woke up, but I secretly listened to them from behind the door of my room.
Lala, the child whose body I now inhabit, fell from a tree while playing alone. Her head struck a large rock, and she was unconscious for four days.
A four-year-old fell and hit the back of her head on a rock—clearly, she should've died from a brain hemorrhage. Perhaps her soul left, and I replaced her.
This wasn't my wish either—I only wanted to write a story, and now I'm trapped by the voice of my ex and a strange system.
"How do I get out of here?" I muttered, staring out the window at the world outside.
I planned to escape and meet the protagonist. At this time setting, this is a crucial moment—the first meeting of the three childhood friends in this village.
"James, Ryan, Natasya," I murmured, naming the key characters of Pe and Kob.
"It's better if I escape through this window," I thought. It's the only way.
But this body is small and weak. Its feverish heat is intense. If I catch a fever, I'll definitely whimper. A child's body is always fragile.
I rushed to the closed bedroom door and pressed my ear against it.
I heard them—Dave and Liria were in the living room, discussing a solution for their child's situation.
"Isn't this the perfect chance?" I muttered, eyes sparkling, still pressing my ear to the door.
"I'm sorry, it's not that I want to worry you two… but I'm not your child. I'm just the anomaly—the scriptwriter of this story, now trapped in Lala's body." I thought to myself as I slowly stepped toward the window.
I opened the window. From this height, the ground looked far below me—probably about the height of an adult's waist.
I didn't forget to take the magic book I found in the room.
"Maybe Lala liked reading? A four-year-old reading a book about magic, not fairy tales," I said while staring at the book in my hands, before tossing it out the window.
Then…
Whooshhh.
I jumped out of the window.
"Eh, e-ehhh…" I tried to land steadily. This body was too small, and I wasn't used to it yet.
"Hap!"
With arms outstretched sideways like the letter T, and feet together.
And I didn't fall when I landed.
I walked away from the house… My steps were tiny—maybe three of my steps equaled one adult step.
"There's no use complaining…" I thought with a sour expression.
"Since I'm walking, I might as well read this book." I opened the magic book as I walked in small steps.
"Heh… So it's a picture book, huh. Dave and Liria are thoughtful as parents."
It was easy to understand for kids, with illustrations and explanations.
The book showed a diagram of the human body, with a blue flame core in the chest, and a network like nerves connecting various points throughout the body.
"This is what's called Mana, just like I planned in the novel…" I was slightly amazed by the illustration, and my curiosity deepened.
"What is this novel world really like? Will it match my imagination when I made the premise?" My curiosity wasn't just about the world—it was about magic. "So I can use magic too, right?"
My steps brought me farther from the house. Around me were rice fields and a few scattered homes. I flipped to the next page of the book.
"Fire (warm), Water (wet), Earth (dirty), and Wind (blowing)," I muttered as I read the page, which showed people warming themselves, a wet wizard, an old man whose clothes got dirty from earth magic, and someone whose hair was blown by the wind.
The next page wasn't anything special—just an illustration of a knight holding a sword and a wizard. Probably adventurers.
And then came the fairy tale.
"Definitely meant for kids." I smiled wide, satisfied with the simple explanations.
I closed the book and arrived at the village center. Many people were passing by.
The commoners' clothing was plain—since Pe and Kob is a novel filled with nobles.
"Hmm, if I see a well-dressed child, that must be Ryan the noble."
In Pe and Kob, I had planned for Ryan to be a noble child from this village's region, while Natasya and James were just regular village kids like me—a minor extra character.
As a writer whose prologue is still unfinished… can I really rely on the premise? The prologue hasn't even been written.
"Maybe some things aren't going as planned…" I muttered, half lost in thoughts about what the future might bring.
"Will the war still happen?"
"Or will it change?"
"That system hasn't appeared again… I have so many questions."
As I walked, passing a small alley, I saw a little girl.
"Short red hair… head down." My curiosity grew between the narrow village alley and this small girl who seemed scared.
I approached her.
"Hey… you?" I greeted her softly.
"AHHHH!!" She screamed in surprise at my gentle voice.
"Eh? Why are you screaming?" I asked with my hands on my hips and a raised eyebrow.
"Ehh, who are you? I thought you were a bad person…" the girl muttered. She seemed relieved that it was just another child around her age.
"I'm Lala Rosalia, daughter of a farmer on the edge of the village. Nice to meet you!" I replied, smiling as wide as a moringa leaf.
"Ehh… I'm Natasya…" the girl said her name. I didn't expect it—she's the main heroine of James!
Surprised. Frozen. I met her this soon? But yes, according to the time setting, the other two should be nearby.
In the prologue I planned to write, James meets Natasya for the first time when she's scared like this. Ryan meets them afterward, teasing them at first, but he always plays with James and Natasya later.
"L-Lala, why are you quiet?" Natasya asked with a puzzled look.
"Ahh, sorry, Nasya," I replied casually with a new nickname.
"Eh? Who's Nasya?" Natasya asked innocently.
"Well, you, of course… it's just easier to call you that," I said to the confused Natasya.
"E-ehh? A-alright then, Lala…" Natasya agreed, as if we were longtime friends—even though we'd just met a few minutes ago.
After the introduction, I asked another question.
"Why are you in the alley?"
Natasya answered with a sad expression.
"I got separated from my mom while we were shopping." Her fists clenched.
"Ehh, want me to help? I'm an adult, you know," I said confidently—even though to Natasya, I still looked like a little kid.
But her eyes sparkled. Someone had come when she needed help.
Finding her mother can wait—my plan was to meet the key characters at this exact point.
Natasya, the main heroine of James, was the first one I unexpectedly encountered. I had created her character as energetic and full of confidence—just like her blazing red hair.
But meeting her in person, during the prologue's time setting, was like seeing an innocent, shy little girl.
Her full name is Natasya Dea, a name I took from one of my exes, Nasya Dewi Alfariza—Natasya from Nasya, and Dea from Dewi Alfariza.
"Well, what can I say? As Yoga, I'm shaped by my exes," I muttered with a smile. Though the world couldn't hear it, I knew—seeing Natasya in real life was like glimpsing a piece of my past.
She looked calm, didn't talk much. Her body was shorter than mine. I wondered how old she was, because I hadn't even decided her age in the broader outline of the manuscript.
"Nasya, how old are you?" I asked as we strolled through the village.
Natasya, walking behind me, answered quietly.
"…five years old," she replied, her voice barely audible.
Just a year older than me, yet smaller in size.
"Ehhh, seriously? You're tiny even though you're a year older than me, hahaha…" I teased her.
Her expression soured—she took it as a mockery.
"Lala is just like a boy! Always teasing!" Natasya snapped, her voice finally louder, though still not too strong.
Well, that made sense, since I really was a guy in a little girl's body.
"Eh? Always? But we've barely spoken…" I replied, still smiling.
"I mean boys always tease people!" Natasya replied with irritation.
We continued walking through the village, passing by the residents. The warm gazes from the people of Carrington were comforting—no hostility, just the kind of looks adults give to two little girls playing around.
From a distance, I saw two boys—one with jet-black hair, the other with blue hair and dressed in expensive clothes.
Suddenly, Natasya ran past me and stopped in front of me, halting our steps.
"James! Ryan!" Natasya shouted, closing the gap between us and the two boys.
My eyes widened in shock. I turned to Natasya.
One thought ran through my mind:
"James? Ryan?"
That's not how I wrote it—this time setting was supposed to be the prologue I hadn't even written yet.
James was supposed to help Natasya, and Ryan was the teasing jerk.
"How do they already know each other?"
As the writer who built this novel with a rough outline and world system… this wasn't what I planned.
The two boys turned to us and ran over.
"Hey, Natasya," called James, the black-haired boy.
"We've been looking for you—your mom is really worried!" said Ryan, the blue-haired one.
Natasya ran over to them.
"I'm okay," she said with a smile that eased the worry on her face.
I just stood there watching—the three childhood friends already knew each other, even before the planned prologue.
"You worried us—and your mom—again," James scolded.
"Yeah! That's right!" Ryan added, sounding annoyed.
"I said I'm okay! Besides, I made a new friend!" Natasya replied casually, then turned to me.
"Lala! Come here—these are my friends!" she waved excitedly.
I approached them.
As I stood there, James smiled at me. But Ryan… for some reason, he looked surprised and panicked.
"L-Lala R-Rosalia?!" he pointed at me.
I was shocked. So were James and Natasya.
"Eh? You already know this girl, Ryan?" James teased, hiding his smirk behind his arm.
"Eh… You're acting suspicious, Ryan," Natasya said accusingly.
"H-have we met before?" I asked Ryan directly.
Ryan snapped out of it.
"E-eh, sorry. This is my first time seeing Natasya with a friend other than us, hehe…"
"Ohhh, but I didn't say my name," I replied with curiosity.
"T-that's because Natasya called your name earlier…" Ryan defended.
"No, she didn't say my last name…" I added, cornering Ryan.
James and Natasya just watched us.
"S-she did! She said your full name… You just didn't notice, Lala," Ryan insisted, still trying to dodge the conversation.
"Ahh, I don't remember saying Lala's full name," Natasya said, tapping her own forehead with her finger as if trying to recall. "But I don't think Ryan would lie."
"Hmm… who's Nasya?" James cut in.
"Ah, that's what Lala calls me… Hehehe," Natasya replied.
"Ohh, Nasya huh… Then I'm James. Do I get a nickname from you too, Lala?" James's eyes sparkled at me.
"Don't mind that idiot, Lala. He's always like this," Ryan interrupted, trying to follow the flow and escape my questioning.
"A-ahh, nice to meet you. I'll just call you James. And you're Ryan, right?"
"Y-yeah," Ryan and James answered at the same time—but their expressions were different. James looked disappointed not getting a nickname, while Ryan seemed relieved the topic had shifted.
"Well, I'll find out eventually… Something's being hidden," I thought to myself.
After the brief introduction, Natasya rushed off to meet her mother, who had been looking for her.
We waved goodbye, but James said:
"W-we'll come play with you sometime."
That blue-haired boy definitely has a big secret about Pe and Kob—and some strange interest in me.
"Well, I'll figure that out later."
I made my way back home. The prologue event was over—the prologue I hadn't even written yet.
It was all so different from what I had planned. The time setting was the same, but the situation had changed. The three childhood friends already knew each other—maybe even long before this point. What triggered the difference?
Questions unraveled in my head like a system. Not that system, I mean—just thoughts multiplying endlessly.
"Maybe it's because I became an extra?"
"Maybe Lala isn't just an extra?"
"I never even created a character named Lala in the script."
Fear and anxiety haunted every passing thought.
"Maybe the voice I heard in the afterlife, saying 'write from within'… maybe it meant I'm supposed to finish this script? This annoying novel."
Lala Rosalia is an anomaly—one born from the writer himself. I have become her.
"Did James and Ryan already know Lala? This child's body?" I placed a hand on my chest—it felt strange.
My tiny steps continued, and then I saw Dave and Liria running toward me, like I was a lost child.
They were worried about Lala's memory. I was worried too—if Lala's memories return, will mine be overwritten? Merged with the memories of Yoga Permana?
They were frantic, but I responded simply.
Even if they scolded me, I lowered my head. I couldn't just pass up the opportunity that had presented itself.
I also explained that I had made a new friend.
"I already told the girl named Nasya. She'll come over to play with me later."
Relieved, Dave and Liria didn't seem mad anymore.
We walked back home together.
Sometimes what we plan doesn't align with reality. Try to stay rational and calm—don't be reckless when making decisions.
Focus on the core issue, and solve it.
Set aside problems you're not yet ready to handle.
And look for solutions that match your current ability.
As Yoga Permana, the writer of this novel, I feel like I'm being challenged by something beyond logic.
Being transmigrated into a novel makes my head hurt. Now I have to live as Lala Rosalia, daughter of Dave Rodriguez and Liria Elphene—a side character I never even created.