Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra - Chapter 633

Chapter 633: Is he alive ?
Elara’s gaze softened—her steps didn’t falter, but something in her presence did.

The slight drop of her shoulders. The way her eyes shifted—not away from Aurelian, but somewhere past him. Somewhere distant.

“When I met her,” she said, her voice low, quiet as frost on stone, “my life was already breaking. Or maybe it had already broken. I was just… picking through the pieces.”

A pause. The wind stirred the ivy overhead.

“I had nothing. No name worth keeping. No home. No warmth. Just a numbness that didn’t go away.”

Aurelian’s expression sobered. Selphine’s steps slowed, not from hesitation, but instinct.

“And then,” Elara continued, “she appeared. Out of nowhere. Like she’d been watching all along. She didn’t offer me comfort. She didn’t offer sympathy.” Her lips curved faintly. “She offered a door.”

“To power?” Selphine asked gently.

“To meaning,” Elara replied. “She said, ‘You don’t need saving. You need sharpening.'”

Aurelian exhaled, his usual levity slipping from his voice. “I see… I didn’t mean to pry.”

Elara glanced at him, the melancholy still in her eyes, but the sharp edge returning. “It’s alright. You weren’t wrong. She doesn’t just pick people out of crowds.”

And with that, her gaze turned forward again—silent, but unshaken.

A moment passed between them, fragile as snow caught mid-fall.

Then Selphine’s tone shifted, light but purposeful. “Well. Now that we’ve fulfilled our daily quota of shared trauma—”

Aurelian snorted softly, grateful. “Let’s talk about something easier.”

His eyes flicked toward the boy beside Elara.

“Like your charming shadow here.”

Elara raised a brow. “Ah….Ced-….Reilan?”

“Reilan Dorne,” Aurelian said with a grin, clearly enjoying the name as he turned to Cedric. “You’ve been awfully quiet for a man with a vineyard and a war hero father.”

Cedric looked over slowly, his face unreadable, arms still folded.

“…I don’t drink,” he said flatly.

Aurelian blinked. “That’s tragic.”

“I was going to offer him wine later,” Selphine added.

Cedric’s mouth twitched, just barely. “I’ll try not to disgrace your offer.”

“Elowyn,” Aurelian stage-whispered. “Is this his charming side?”

“It’s his extroverted side,” she deadpanned.

Selphine smiled, faint and elegant. “You don’t speak much, but you listen well. That’s more useful than most.”

Cedric gave a short nod, his gaze steady. “I’ve heard the same.”

Selphine smiled—cool, composed, but with a glimmer of something far more playful beneath. “You’ve got the look for it,” she said lightly, folding her hands behind her back. “Stalwart, silent, brooding. You’d pass for a knight at court without even drawing your sword.”

Aurelian raised a brow, casting her a sideways glance. “Was that a compliment, or a recruitment pitch?”

“Both,” Selphine said with a smirk. “We could use a few less chatty ones in the palace circles.”

Cedric’s mouth twitched again, just barely, and for a second, something like a smirk almost surfaced—but Elara cut in before it could settle.

“He might look the part,” she said dryly, “but trust me, he gets winded halfway through protocol drills.”

Cedric glanced at her. “One time.”

“You tripped over a ceremonial rug.”

“It moved.”

Aurelian leaned forward, grinning. “Wait—he tripped?”

“He tripped,” Elara confirmed, with just a trace of satisfaction.

Selphine laughed softly, and for a moment, the air around them seemed lighter, warmer than the crisp morning breeze.

But then Aurelian tilted his head toward Elara again, shifting the topic with practiced ease. “So, Elowyn. How much do you know of the capital? The academy?”

Elara tilted her head slightly at Aurelian’s question, then glanced toward the distant towers piercing the sky like jeweled spears. “I don’t know much,” she admitted. “This is… actually my first time here.”

Aurelian blinked. “Seriously?”

Elara nodded. “I’ve studied maps. Heard stories. Read reports. But no—never set foot in Arcania until now.”

Selphine gave a slow, knowing smile. “Then what do you think of it?”

Elara took a moment before answering. Her eyes lingered on the gilded arches above, the sprawling gardens trimmed with flawless precision, the floating carriages gliding between spires like birds in formation. Her voice, when it came, was quiet.

“It’s majestic,” she said. “Overwhelming. Like someone built a dream… and forgot how much it cost.”

Aurelian chuckled. “Now that is the most poetic thing anyone’s said about Arcania in the last year.”

“She’s not wrong,” Selphine added, her tone more reserved. “It was designed to impress. To dazzle. But beneath the marble, it’s all gears and debt.”

Aurelian waved a hand, dismissive but smiling. “Let her have the wonder, Sel. It’s her first time.”

He turned to Elara, grinning. “This city’s got everything—enchanted opera halls, midnight duels, markets that sell stormglass trinkets from the edges of the world. Oh—and illusion parlors that’ll make you forget your name and your bloodline in two seconds flat.”

Selphine folded her arms. “And poison in the wine if you pick the wrong dinner party.”

Aurelian gave her a mock-scandalized look. “You are terrible at recruitment.”

“I’m realistic.”

“I’m inspiring.”

Elara raised an eyebrow. “Are all your conversations like this?”

“Only the good ones,” Aurelian replied with a grin.

They eventually found their way to a quiet pavilion nestled along the garden’s edge—a spot shaded by flowering branches and warded by old charms meant to keep the air temperate and the noise outside.

“Let’s order something,” Selphine suggested. “If you’re going to see Arcania properly, Elowyn, you should start with a real breakfast.”

Aurelian waved a hand, summoning one of the waiting staff. “Bring us the firefruit tarts, glazed amber rolls, and the goldleaf quiche. And—oh, bring something ‘this guy’ can not drink.”

“Water?” Cedric deadpanned.

“You’re no fun.”

Breakfast was placed before them not long after—delicate dishes that shimmered faintly with minor enchantments to keep them warm and fresh. The scents of sweet spice and roasted herbs filled the air as the group began picking through their food.

It was the kind of quiet that only came after laughter—a silence not born of tension, but of contentment.

And then—

“I wonder what happened to that guy yesterday,” Selphine said suddenly, mid-sip of her tea.

Aurelian looked up. “Hm?”

“The one from the terrace,” she clarified. “You know—the one who smiled at the princess with a sword to his neck.”

Elara paused, fork halfway to her mouth. “…What?”

Aurelian brightened immediately, as if he’d been waiting for the excuse.

“Oh, that,” he said, placing his cup down with a clink. “You missed a performance, Elowyn. I’m still not sure if it was a diplomatic disaster or the best street play I’ve ever seen.”

Selphine smirked, swirling her tea gently. “It was both.”

Cedric looked up from his plate, chewing slowly. Elara set her fork down, eyes narrowing with interest.

“Explain,” she said simply.

Aurelian sat forward, gesturing animatedly. “Alright, picture this: morning sun, high terrace—Velis Prominence, you know the one with the view of the Nexus? Dozens of nobles, festival energy, elegance and entitlement dripping from every gold-trimmed sleeve.”

“A public scene,” Cedric murmured.

“Oh, very public,” Selphine replied. “And right in the middle of it, House Crane’s heir decided to throw his weight around. Thought it’d be fun to intimidate a baron’s son. Almost took the girl’s seat by force.”

Elara’s brows furrowed. “And no one intervened?”

“No one wanted to,” Aurelian said. “Because Crane was involved. Everyone was too scared of making enemies… too busy watching and pretending not to.”

Selphine leaned in slightly. “And then he appeared.”

Aurelian held up a dramatic finger. “A boy. Long coat. Black eyes. White cat on his shoulder, I kid you not. Walks right into the scene like he’s looking for a snack and accidentally wandered into a brawl.”

“Didn’t bow, didn’t shout,” Selphine added. “He just… bumped the Crane heir. Intentionally. Casually.”

And to that description…..

Elara froze.