Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Chapter 1041: Is that what you think of me?

”A short Chapter in the long run... That’s disappointing to hear.”

A pause, deliberate and faintly wounded.

”I’m quite sad now. Is this what you think of me?”

Elara didn’t need to turn.

She knew that voice.

Knew the cadence.

Knew the tone he used when he pretended to pout—half teasing, half probing, entirely disarming.

Lucavion.

Of course.

Of course he would appear the moment his name lingered too long in the air. The timing was almost supernatural—no, not supernatural. Predictable. Typical. Exactly the sort of entrance he favored: effortless, intrusive, and designed to tip the balance of a conversation before anyone could regain their footing.

’Speak of the devil,’ Elara thought dryly, her pulse tightening into a single, sharp beat.

’And here he is.’

Valeria froze in her seat, her breath catching as though she’d been struck. Elara felt the shift immediately—the slight rise of tension in her posture, the way color drained from her expression, the soft widening of her eyes. Whatever warmth had touched Valeria while recalling the past vanished like frost under sunlight.

Elara didn’t move.

Didn’t turn.

Didn’t let the flicker of irritation or the sting of memory touch her expression.

But inside—quietly, tightly—her thoughts curled in on themselves.

’I did not need him here.’

’Not now.’

’Not when she was actually speaking.’

Lucavion stepped closer, his presence settling behind them like a smirk made tangible.

”And here I thought I left a better impression than that,” he added lightly.

Elara finally lifted her gaze—not toward him, but toward Valeria. The girl looked torn between embarrassment, alarm, and something far more complex. Her hands, which moments ago held warmth, now clasped tightly in her lap.

Lucavion noticed it too.

Elara could feel it in the way the air shifted behind her—his attention redirecting, sharpening.

****

Valeria reacted before Elara did.

Her head snapped around so sharply that the movement betrayed her. She hadn’t sensed him at all. Hadn’t heard his steps, hadn’t felt the shift of mana, hadn’t noticed the presence that she should have registered the moment it entered her vicinity.

She’d been too absorbed in her memories.

And he had walked right up to her.

Her eyes met his—deep, dark, unreadable. Lucavion stood with that maddening ease of his, hands loosely tucked into his coat pockets, posture relaxed enough to be disarming, sharp enough to be intentional. There was no grand gesture, no dramatic approach. Just... him.

Valeria’s breath hitched. She immediately suppressed it, straightening her shoulders. Whatever flush of embarrassment threatened to rise, she buried under practiced composure. Not here. Not in front of Elowyn.

Lucavion tilted his head slightly. ”A ’short Chapter,’ Valeria? That’s all?”

His tone was almost playful, but the way his eyes stayed fixed on hers said otherwise. A soft challenge. A pressure she remembered too well.

Valeria swallowed once, then forced her voice steady. ”Was that wrong?”

Lucavion’s smile sharpened. ”I thought it was more than that. Was it not?”

Elara watched silently, sensing the crackle in the air between them. Whatever history lay here, it was heavier than she’d realized.

Valeria held Lucavion’s gaze, refusing to flinch. ”It could have been more,” she said quietly, ”if you hadn’t left when you did.”

Lucavion didn’t blink. The faint amusement in his expression dimmed, replaced by an ache so subtle most would have missed it.

Elara did not.

Neither did Valeria.

He stepped closer—not enough to invade personal space, but enough to shift the balance between them. ”Come now,” he murmured. ”You and I both knew we would meet again.”

”I didn’t know.” The words came sharper than she intended.

He softened—not visibly, but in that small, imperceptible way his presence always shifted when something mattered. ”I did.”

A pause settled between them. Not awkward. Not empty. Something more complicated, threaded with memory and unfinished thoughts neither of them had the vocabulary for.

Valeria dropped her gaze for only half a second before reclaiming it. She refused to break eye contact longer than that. She would not look small in front of him—or in front of Elowyn.

”Regardless,” she finally said, her voice low but steady, ”you might have warned me before appearing like this.”

Lucavion’s mouth curved. ”I prefer to arrive unannounced.”

”I noticed,” Valeria muttered.

Elara watched the exchange like someone standing between two pieces of a puzzle that didn’t fit, yet refused to be separated. And beneath her calm exterior, her thoughts sharpened.

Lucavion’s attention drifted from Valeria to Elowyn, and then—effortlessly—back to Valeria again. It wasn’t an obvious glance. It was the kind of look he excelled at: precise, deliberate, and layered with meaning she could never decode on the first pass.

”Our frost mage and little Lady Knight...” he murmured.

”An unusual combination.”

Valeria stiffened—not visibly, but enough that she felt the shift along her spine. The phrasing was teasing, even light, yet something underneath it tugged at the edge of her awareness. It was too purposeful to be casual.

Before she could respond, Lucavion slid into the open seat beside her, setting down a tray Valeria hadn’t even realized he was holding. His movements were smooth enough to seem almost careless, yet she knew better. He always chose where to sit with intention.

His shoulder ended up closer to hers than she expected.

She pretended not to notice.

”I didn’t know you two were acquainted,” he said, voice warm and deceptively pleasant.

Valeria blinked once, caught off guard by the question itself—and by the way his eyes gleamed as he asked it.

He looked at Elowyn with a faint curiosity that felt sharper than polite interest. Then he glanced back at Valeria, as though checking for something in her expression. The combination made the air feel strangely charged.

Her mind stalled for a beat.

He knows her?

The thought struck with enough force to almost knock the breath out of her.

Because the way he looked at Elowyn—calm, steady, with none of the feigned aloofness he used on strangers—was not how he looked at someone he’d never met. There was recognition in the gaze, even if faintly concealed.

Valeria hid the tension in her shoulders with practiced ease.

”We were placed in the same assessment group,” she answered, keeping her tone controlled. ”We only met today.”

Lucavion hummed softly, almost as if he didn’t quite believe her. ”Interesting.”

Elowyn remained composed, spoon resting between her fingers, gaze calm in a way that almost irritated Valeria—not because it was wrong, but because it was... too calm. As if she had already prepared for this moment.

He looked between them again, that quiet, cutting curiosity returning. ”You two seem rather comfortable for people who just met.”

Valeria’s breath caught. ”Do we?”

Lucavion leaned back in his chair with a soft smile that was all edges. ”I’m simply observing.”

Valeria forced herself to remain steady. ”Then observe quietly.”

Lucavion huffed a low laugh, not offended in the slightest. ”Always so stern.”

He turned his head—just a fraction—to Elowyn.

”And you,” he said lightly, ”have a way of drawing interesting people to you, it seems.”

Valeria felt her pulse jump.

What does that mean?

What does he know?

How does he know her?

Lucavion’s gaze flicked back to her—and for a heartbeat, she thought she saw something in his eyes. Recognition. A silent acknowledgment that he had noticed her reaction.

But she didn’t let it show.

She couldn’t.

Elowyn, however, merely smiled politely. ”The Academy assigns the groups. I was simply fortunate.”

Lucavion’s eyes narrowed with an amusement Valeria did not understand.

”Oh, yes,” he murmured. ”Fortunate indeed.”

Valeria looked between them slowly.

Something was wrong.

The quiet ease Elowyn carried.

The probing glint in Lucavion’s eyes.

The way neither seemed surprised by the other’s presence.

And the way she felt suddenly, inexplicably, out of her depth.