Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Chapter 627: Archmage and her seeds

The moonlight spilled softly across the polished floors of the guest estate, its glow filtering through silken drapes that fluttered lazily in the evening breeze. Arcania never quite slept during the Festival of the First Flame—distant laughter still echoed faintly from the lower plazas, accompanied by bursts of light from illusionary fireworks and drifting lanterns that pulsed like stars in motion.

But high above it all, within one of the estateʼs upper rooms, two figures sat in quiet reflection.

Aurelian Vale lounged against a velvet-backed divan, arms behind his head, legs crossed loosely at the ankle. He stared up at the ceiling, his expression half-curious, half-lost in thought. A cooling teapot sat forgotten beside him.

Across from him, seated by the arched window, Selphine Elowen leaned against the frame, arms folded tightly across her chest. The moon lit the silver edges of her hair, catching in her eyes—which hadnʼt stopped scanning the horizon once since theyʼd settled in.

But neither of them spoke for a long while.

Because their minds were still back in the morning.

Back in Velis Prominence.

Where everything had changed.

”…That was not how I thought the day would go,” Aurelian said at last, breaking the silence with a wry grin.

Selphineʼs only response was a sharp exhale through her nose.

”Neither did I,” she muttered.

He glanced over at her. ”Youʼre still brooding.”

”Iʼm processing.”

Aurelian chuckled. ”Same thing, just more dramatic.”

Selphine gave him a side glance, unimpressed. ”Youʼre too casual about it.”

He sat up a little straighter, his grin fading just a touch. ”I just think… it was interesting. Thatʼs all. I mean—did you see how fast he moved? How quick he was with words?”

”I saw how reckless he was,” Selphine replied coolly. ”How completely unruly. No house name. No etiquette. He practically invited a beheading.”

”And yet,” Aurelian said, gesturing with his hand like unfurling a mystery, ”he didnʼt get one.”

Selphine frowned. ”Because the princess stayed her hand. That doesnʼt mean he won.”

”I didnʼt say he won. But he didnʼt lose either.” Aurelian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. ”He smiled at her, Selphine. Smiled. While a sword was at his neck.”

”Heʼs lucky he still has a neck.”

”Or,” Aurelian added, tapping his fingers together thoughtfully, ”he knew she wouldnʼt strike.”

Selphine went quiet again, lips pressed into a tight line.

”…I donʼt like him.”

Aurelian laughed, softly. ”Thatʼs because you couldnʼt read him.”

She didnʼt answer.

He stretched again, falling back onto the cushions. ”I liked him,” he said with a grin. ”He was fun.”

”Fun?” Selphine echoed, turning to glare at him. ”He disrupted the terrace, insulted the heir of House Crane, mocked a royal guard, flirted with the princess, and managed to walk away applauded.”

Aurelian smiled at the ceiling.

”Exactly.”

Selphine turned away from the window with a sharp flick of her hair, the corner of her mouth curling as she raised a brow.

”If you found it so fun,” she said, voice dry, ”why donʼt you try it next time?”

Aurelian blinked up at her, then smirked. ”Tempting,” he drawled. ”But watching it was fun. Not sure about doing it.”

”Oh?” Selphine tilted her head, her tone slipping into playful condescension. ”Isnʼt it because youʼre scared?”

He didnʼt even pretend to deny it.

”I am scared,” he said easily, one arm flopping over his eyes. ”Why wouldnʼt I be? This world doesnʼt run on a single moment of flair. It runs on memory. On consequence.” He peeked at her through his fingers. ”Something you tend to conveniently forget.”

Selphine leaned her back against the frame again, chin resting in her hand.

”Heh… And yet, somehow, the boy who doesnʼt care about those consequences walked away untouched. Meanwhile, the one who built his whole name on lineage and structure ended up eating his own tongue in front of the crowd.”

Aurelian grinned. ”See? I knew you liked him.”

”I said nothing of the sort.”

”Youʼre talking about him a lot.”

She shot him a glare. ”Because you keep bringing him up.”

Aurelian shrugged. ”Maybe. Or maybe youʼre just wondering if heʼll show up again tomorrow.”

Selphine opened her mouth to retort—

Knock knock.

The sound echoed lightly through the chamber.

They both paused.

Aurelian blinked and sat up straighter, reaching for the teapot as if it might shield him from whatever was coming next.

Selphine stood, her posture snapping instinctively into a graceful, noble line, her eyes narrowing toward the door.

”…Itʼs late,” she said.

”Which means,” Aurelian murmured, setting the pot aside, ”itʼs either important…”

”…or interesting.” Selphine finished.

They exchanged a glance—

And then, together, turned toward the door.

The door opened with a soft creak, and in stepped a woman cloaked in muted forest green, her hair braided neatly down her back, a crest stitched over her shoulder marking her as an attendant of House Elowen.

She moved with practiced grace and dipped into a quiet bow before both of them.

”My lady. Young master Vale.”

Selphine nodded once, folding her arms behind her back. ”Lyria. Youʼre up late.”

”I could say the same of you, my lady,” Lyria replied with a faint, knowing smile.

Selphine tilted her head. ”You bring news, then?”

Lyria straightened, her gloved hands gently presenting a sealed envelope from within the folds of her cloak. ”A letter arrived for you both. Delivered through official channel. I examined it personally, then had it verified for enchantments—none, aside from the senderʼs marking.”

Selphineʼs brows lifted. ”Who?”

Lyria hesitated just a second.

Then answered, clear and even:

”Miss Eveline.”

The room went still.

Aurelian blinked.

Selphineʼs mouth twitched open before she slowly closed it again.

”…Miss Eveline?” she repeated.

Aurelian leaned forward, frowning. ”As in—our Miss Eveline?”

Lyria nodded. ”The very one.”

Selphine looked down at the envelope in her hand, her fingers brushing gently over the seal as a slow smile began to tug at the corner of her lips—subtle, rare, and touched with something unusually warm.

”Itʼs been so long,” she murmured.

Aurelian tilted his head, watching her. ”Youʼre smiling.”

She didnʼt deny it. ”Of course I am.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. ”You think sheʼs still as eccentric as ever?”

”Sheʼs probably written this letter using a spell that erases the ink if you read it too quickly.” Her smile widened slightly. ”Or cursed it to scold us if we forgot our mana formations.”

Aurelian gave a soft laugh. ”Wouldnʼt put it past her.”

Selphine exhaled, the weight of memories settling over her shoulders like a familiar shawl. She stepped back toward the window, holding the letter carefully, reverently.

”Do you remember the first time she visited?” she asked. ”The fireflies?”

Aurelian grinned. ”You mean the swarm that turned into a constellation and spelled out our names? How could I forget?”

”She made the entire hilltop feel like a dream.”

”She was a dream,” Aurelian said. ”One minute weʼre nothing but bored heirs stuck in our dusty little provinces… and the next, weʼre apprentices to a wandering archmage who showed up uninvited and told our parents we had no choice in the matter.”

Selphine laughed softly—genuinely this time. ”She changed everything.”

They both went quiet for a moment.

Lyria, still standing by the door, spoke gently. ”You were different after she left. Both of you.”

Selphine nodded slowly. ”She gave us a path. Magic that meant something. Not politics. Not tradition. Just… freedom. Wonder.”

Aurelianʼs voice dropped, more thoughtful now. ”She didnʼt stay long. A few seasons. Then gone. No goodbyes. Just that note.”

”ʼThe world waits in places no map has drawn.ʼ” Selphine quoted the final line of Evelineʼs farewell, her smile tinged with nostalgia. ”And now…”

”…She writes us,” Aurelian finished, eyes narrowing in curiosity.

Selphineʼs grip on the letter tightened slightly. ”She must have a reason.”

”Always did,” Aurelian murmured.

Only Lyria, and a handful of their closest aides, even knew the truth. That their magical training hadnʼt begun in the Academy. That it hadnʼt been shaped by tutors or scrolls or noble connections. It had started with a barefoot woman in traveling robes, who spoke to stars and laughed at lightning.

And now, she had written them.

Selphine glanced over her shoulder.

”Shall we see what the Archmage has to say?”