Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Chapter 551: Father-in-law

The first rays of dawn stretched across the sky, painting the fields of the Thaddeus Dukedom in muted gold and soft lavender. The world was still waking, the estate quiet save for the rustling of leaves and the distant call of birds. But amidst that silence, there was a steady rhythm—

Shhhk.

Shhhk.

The sound of steel slicing through the crisp morning air.

Lucavion stood in the open fields, his coat discarded, his shirt damp with sweat, his breathing slow yet deliberate. His hands, steady and sure, guided the blade through each arc, each movement precise. He didnʼt count how many swings he had done. He had lost track long ago.

Because he had been here for hours already.

Because he hadnʼt slept.

Because every single time he closed his eyes, he heard it.

I love you.

His grip on the hilt tightened.

I love you.

His blade cut through the air, sharper, faster.

I love you.

Lucavion exhaled sharply, his breath misting in the cool morning air.

His body ached, his muscles burned, but none of it was enough to silence the pounding in his chest. None of it was enough to clear his mind, to bring him the clarity he usually found in training.

Because this—this—was something he didnʼt know how to deal with.

He knew how to fight. How to adapt. How to outthink, outmaneuver, how to slip through cracks and play every angle until he got what he wanted.

But this?

This was different.

Emotions werenʼt like battles. There was no opponent to read, no strategy to dismantle. It was just there, raw and unrelenting, pressing into him no matter how much he tried to ignore it.

Lucavion clicked his tongue, setting his stance again.

Fine.

If he couldnʼt silence it, if he couldnʼt control it—then he would do the only thing he knew.

He would move.

His sword cut through the air again, relentless, his breath steadying only through sheer force of will.

Because if he stopped—if he let himself think—

Then he would have to accept it.

The fact that no matter how hard he tried to push it down, no matter how much he told himself that he wasnʼt meant for things like this—

His heart had already betrayed him.

A slow, lazy yawn cut through the crisp morning air.

Lucavion didnʼt pause, didnʼt turn—but he felt her presence settle beside him, as familiar as his own shadow.

Vitaliara curled up on the grass, her tail flicking idly, golden eyes half-lidded with the remnants of sleep. She stretched once before resting her chin on her paws, watching him with quiet amusement.

[Youʼre training now?] she murmured, voice thick with drowsiness. [Shouldnʼt you be, oh, I donʼt know… sleeping?]

Lucavion swung his sword again, the blade whistling through the air before coming to a sharp halt. He inhaled, controlled, even. ”Wanted to train,” he said simply, rolling his shoulders before adjusting his grip.

Vitaliara blinked at him, unimpressed.

[Hah.]

She didnʼt need to say anything else.

Lucavion clicked his tongue, already knowing what was coming next.

[You couldnʼt sleep, could you?]

His fingers tightened slightly on the hilt of his sword. He exhaled slowly.

”...Yeah.”

[Figured.]

She didnʼt sound smug. Didnʼt sound surprised. Just… resigned.

Lucavion let his arms drop for a moment, his free hand brushing against his damp forehead. His body was exhausted, but his mind refused to stop.

Vitaliara watched him in silence, her ears twitching as she considered him. He could tell she was still bitter. That much hadnʼt changed. But there was something else now, something lighter, like the edge of her resentment had dulled just a fraction.

[That girl cares quite a bit about you, you know.]

Lucavionʼs grip on his sword twitched.

He didnʼt respond.

Didnʼt need to.

Vitaliara huffed softly, shaking her head. [When she confessed to you, I thought sheʼd try to keep you here. Tie you down. Chain you to this place.]

She shifted slightly, curling her tail around herself.

[But she didnʼt.]

Lucavion inhaled sharply, his body stilling for a fraction of a second.

Vitaliara exhaled, stretching her paws out in front of her before lazily curling them back in. Her golden eyes, still half-lidded, flicked toward Lucavion as he resumed his swings.

[Letʼs get one thing straight,] she murmured, voice low, deliberate. [I still donʼt like her.]

Lucavion didnʼt react. Didnʼt stop. Just kept moving, his blade cutting through the cool morning air in smooth, precise arcs.

[She acts too arrogant,] Vitaliara continued, tail flicking in irritation. [Carries herself like she owns the place, like sheʼs already at the center of everything.]

She narrowed her eyes slightly, ears twitching. [And the way she glares at me… tch. As if Iʼm some pest intruding on her territory.]

Lucavion exhaled through his nose, adjusting his grip.

[But,] Vitaliara added, her voice quieter now, almost begrudging, [Iʼll give her this—she has class.]

Lucavion finally paused, if only for a fraction of a second.

Vitaliara huffed, shifting her weight lazily. [She didnʼt beg, didnʼt demand, didnʼt try to clip your wings. I thought she would—I was sure she would. But instead, she just… let it be.]

She stretched her back, her golden gaze sharp yet contemplative. [Still donʼt like her. But I can admit that much.]

Lucavion remained silent.

Not because he had nothing to say, but because he didnʼt need to say anything.

Vitaliara knew him too well. Knew that if she pushed, heʼd sidestep the conversation entirely. So she didnʼt push.

She just observed.

And so did Lucavion.

Not her, but something else.

A presence.

One that had been approaching for a while now.

Vitaliaraʼs ears twitched first, but she didnʼt move. Didnʼt need to. Because she already knew—Lucavion had sensed it long before she had.

And sure enough—

”Good morning.”

A voice. Calm. Controlled.

Lucavion lowered his blade slightly, turning just enough to meet the golden-eyed gaze of the man standing a few paces away.

Duke Anthony Thaddeus.

Lucavion smirked, tilting his head slightly. ”Good morning, Mister Duke.”

The Dukeʼs expression remained unreadable, his gaze sweeping over him once, taking in the sweat-soaked shirt, the calloused grip on the sword, the slight tension still coiled in his frame.

Then—

”Couldnʼt sleep?”

Lucavion chuckled, shaking his head. ”Something like that.”

The Duke didnʼt look surprised.

Lucavion blinked.

Then, he grinned.

”Well now,” he drawled, twirling his sword idly between his fingers, ”if I didnʼt know any better, Iʼd say youʼre upset with me, Mister Duke.”

The Dukeʼs golden eyes remained steady. Unwavering. Unamused.

Lucavion expected the usual stern retort, maybe a warning or some carefully measured words about responsibility.

But instead—

The Duke pointed.

Not at him.

At his sword.

”Letʼs have a conversation.”

Lucavion arched a brow, his smirk never faltering. ”A conversation?”

”Yes,” the Duke said simply. ”Like a man.”

Before Lucavion could respond, before he could even toss out some remark about how violent the Thaddeus familyʼs methods of communication were—

Shhhk.

The unmistakable sound of steel being drawn.

Lucavionʼs smirk faltered just slightly as Anthony Thaddeus unsheathed his blade, the polished steel catching the early morning light.

A nobleʼs sword. Ornate, yet built for efficiency.

Lucavionʼs grip on his own hilt tightened just slightly.

Then—

A quiet chuckle slipped past his lips.

”Ah,” he murmured, tilting his head. ”So thatʼs how it is.”

The Duke adjusted his stance, his expression still unreadable.

”I will limit my strength,” he said evenly. ”Donʼt worry.”

Lucavion let out an amused breath, rolling his shoulders. ”Now that is a sentence that does not inspire confidence.”

The Duke said nothing.

Lucavion glanced at Vitaliara, who had stopped stretching and was now watching the exchange with mild interest.

[Hah.] Her tail flicked lazily. [Well, this is about to get interesting.]

Lucavion huffed out another laugh before lifting his sword, giving it a casual spin in his grip.

”Alright then,” he mused, lowering himself into a stance, his dark eyes gleaming. ”Letʼs talk.”