One Hundred Years As An Extra - Chapter 2

Transmigrated into the book as a cannon fodder female supporting role, the ex-wife of the male lead who hasn't divorced yet. Gu Fuqiao just wants to say no!

For the sake of the world, the Protagonist must die.“I... I think I like--”Whether you’re just a girl who fell in love with the wrong person.“N-no...! If I can go back... just one more time...!”A man who regresses to save the world.“Hero... Please, kill yourself.”Or a destined Hero chosen by the Goddess Herself to kill the Demon Lord.No matter what your purpose is, no matter who you are.Even if the whole world and everyone close turns against me...[The target, ‘■■, the Hero’, has been dispatched.][Contract complete.]...The Protagonist cannot be allowed to live.

[System is assimilating Earth with the rest of the Vast Universe.]

[A Trial Program is needed for efficient assimilation and for that data needs to be recorded from 1111 individuals with Higher Potential Innate Abilities from the assimilating Planet.]

[This Trial Program was further divided into 3 Sub Programs namely, ALPHA Program, BETA Program and GAMMA Program.]

[Congratulations! You are one of the 11 Chosen individuals among 7.8 billion for the ALPHA Program.]

[As a Chosen member among 11 individuals of Alpha Program you will be one of the first to start the Trial Program.]

[When the Trial Program ends, the assimilation with Earth begins.]

[Survive, overcome danger and grow stronger. All the Best.]

What happens when, in the midst of struggling to keep up with life, you suddenly discover that you were a princess in a past life? Now, you're just a waitress with a drunken mother and a pile of bills to pay. But deep down, you know one thing: you’ll find the stupid jerk responsible for ending your royal life, no matter what it takes.Alexia POV:Then there are the spoiled, narcissistic rich jerks who think their daddy's car gives them a free pass to treat women like objects. Not today, Satan. These guys are like walking perfume ads with egos bigger than their bank accounts. I swear, they should just marry themselves—they're clearly their own type.When one of those jerks lands at my table, I can smell the entitlement from a mile away. I don't even wait for the inevitable sleazy pickup line or the “accidental” brush of their hand against mine. Nope. I pawn them off on one of the other waiters faster than you can say “unpaid rent.”