Sampo always knew he wasn't exactly... protagonist material.

He wasn't the noble type, all polished morals and dramatic backstory. He didn't blaze trails across the galaxy, didn't swing swords or give heartwarming speeches about justice and camaraderie. No, he had always figured himself better suited to be the kind of guy who showed up when things got too serious just to derail the mood.

The shadowy comic relief.

The "you either love him or hate him" wildcard who never quite got what was coming to him because he was just slippery enough to dodge the consequences.

But somewhere along the way, as the Trailblazer and their little entourage bounced from planet to planet and reshaping fate, Sampo noticed things. Little things, like conversations that reset if he walked too far and then came back. People standing stock-still, waiting—yes, actually waiting—for him to speak.

The world really did feel like a big ol' game sometimes. But in every game, there had to be boundaries. And if there were boundaries, then by every sneaky little instinct Sampo had ever trusted in his life, there had to be ways to slip through the cracks.

So, he'd started going off-script. He was delaying his lines, moving left when he should go right, saying different things during dialogues just to see what would happen. Turns out? No one noticed. The universe rolled on, blissfully unaware that Sampo Koski was ad-libbing his entire existence.

He'd been doing it for hours now, pulling the Trailblazer through side streets of Belobog that weren't supposed to matter, stringing together non-quest-relevant banter with a charming grin and a wink. Trailblazer just blinked and followed like the good little protagonist they were, none the wiser.

Eventually, after enough wandering, pushing, and pulling at the edges of this little illusion, he hit a break. The city's music fell quiet and the looping ambience began to hiccup, like a delay in loading the next interaction.

Ah, there it was.

One of those drawn-out narrations began to fade in front of the screen. It was one of those ponderous words meant to transition the player from one plot beat to the next. The kind where the player had no control and no dialogue options. The kind that froze everyone in place.

Except Sampo, of course.

He leaned against the Trailblazer, who was frozen mid-step in that awkward pose. With a lazy glance, he reached up and waved a hand in front of their unblinking face. "Nothing personal, champ," he murmured in amusement.

Then slowly, with the smug confidence of a man who knew he was being watched, he turned. He looked up through the layer of pixels and programming. Through the screen.

At you.

Yes, you.

Sampo's gaze pierced the fourth wall, those sly eyes narrowing in half amusement, half calculation. "Well, well. There you are," he said, almost affectionately, like greeting a long-lost pen pal. He leaned forward ever so slightly, as if he could see your face on the other side. "My favorite audience."

His gaze darted left, then right, as if inspecting the edges of your screen. "Oh, don't be shy. I know you've been watching. Clicking. Skipping my lines sometimes." A hand rose to his chest, fingers spread in mock betrayal as he offered you a wounded look, like you'd just broken his heart. "Ouchie," he added, though the hurt in his tone was clearly performative than sincere.

At the bottom of the screen, as Sampo kept yapping, subtitles were still rolling. The script was technically still running, even if he had absolutely no intention of following it anymore.

"Now now," he continued, tone playful but threaded with razor-sharp awareness. "let's not go reporting this as a bug just to scrape a few extra Stellar Jades, alright? I've worked very hard to get us to this little moment."