Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra - Chapter 634

Chapter 634: Is he alive (2)
Elara froze.

It was subtle—barely more than a twitch of the fingers around her cup, the faintest shift in her breathing—but to someone like Selphine, who was trained to read court tension as easily as runes, it stood out like thunder in a snowfield.

“Elowyn?” Selphine asked, her tone still casual, but now dipped in curiosity. Her sharp eyes narrowed just slightly. “What is it?”

Elara’s gaze had drifted to the middle distance, her pupils dilated—not with fear, but something far deeper. Recognition.

“A white cat?” she repeated, her voice softer than before. “Perched on his shoulder?”

Aurelian blinked, nodding. “Yeah. A smug one, too. Looked like it thought it ran the city. You know the type.”

“And the boy?” Elara asked, not touching her food anymore. “Black eyes?”

“Black as ink,” Selphine confirmed, watching her now more than the memory. “He didn’t wear a crest. Looked like he didn’t belong—until he made everyone else look out of place.”

Elara didn’t respond immediately.

She didn’t need to.

Her face, normally so composed—elegant, restrained, unreadable—had faltered. Just a flicker, a tremor behind the eyes. But it was enough.

Cedric had seen it too. His fork paused mid-cut, his entire frame tightening in subtle defense, gaze slipping toward Elara as if ready to act on whatever came next.

“Elowyn,” Selphine said slowly, her voice lower now. “Do you know him?”

Elara’s hands curled faintly against her lap. The sounds of the garden—birdsong, rustling leaves, distant laughter—suddenly felt too far away.

“…Maybe,” she said at last, though the word was barely a whisper.

Aurelian and Selphine exchanged a glance, something passing between them silently. A flicker of understanding. Or perhaps, of instinct.

Aurelian leaned in, his voice quiet. “He vanished before we could speak to him. Guards tried to catch him after the Crane boy tried to retaliate. But the guy just… disappeared.”

“Disappeared,” Elara echoed.

“Slipped through a ripple of space like it was his front door,” Selphine murmured, her expression contemplative now. “Not a standard blink spell. Something older. Deeper.”

Elara’s chest tightened. Her thoughts moved faster than her heart.

It can’t be.

It couldn’t.

And yet… that description. That smile. That presence.

A boy with ink-black eyes and a white cat on his shoulder—walking into danger like it was a game. Smiling like the world’s chaos was nothing more than a dance step he’d already memorized.

Elara’s head lifted slowly, like the movement cost more than it should have. Her fingers tightened just once around her tea cup, then uncurled—graceful, careful, as though her body were remembering how to mask what her soul couldn’t.

Her voice came a beat late, trailing the weight of withheld breath.

“What was his name?” she asked, though she already feared the answer.

Aurelian glanced to Selphine, uncertain. “He didn’t say. Just appeared, threw the whole garden into a storm of rumors, and left before anyone could pin him down.”

Elara’s throat worked around the silence. She tried again.

“Did he… have a scar? Over his right eye?”

Selphine shook her head. “Not that I saw. His face was clean. Almost too clean. The kind of face you forget because it refuses to give you anything to hold onto.”

A tension unraveled in Elara’s chest—not relief. Not disappointment. Something stranger. Like a thread cut loose from an old tapestry she didn’t realize was still hanging in her mind.

“And weapon?” she pressed, a little more sharply this time. “Was he carrying one?”

Aurelian’s brow furrowed in thought. “Yeah. Actually. Long, thin blade—barely looked like it weighed anything. One of those dueling swords, maybe. Elegant, but strange.”

“Like an estoc?” Elara’s voice dropped lower, almost to herself. “Long blade, no edge, meant for piercing?”

Selphine’s eyes lit with recognition. “Yes, that’s it. Now that I think of it—it was an estoc. Not common these days. Not unless you’re trained somewhere old. Or foreign.”

Elara’s lips parted slightly, then pressed shut again. Her pulse tapped like frost dripping from a windowsill. Every piece lined up, but not quite. The boy she remembered had been just as wild—but marked, scarred, loud in ways this one was not.

‘But they always change, don’t they? When you leave them behind. When they choose to leave you behind.’

Selphine’s voice came again, this time quieter—less curious, more deliberate.

“Elowyn,” she said, tilting her head slightly, eyes sharp. “Do you know him?”

Elara didn’t answer at first.

Her gaze had drifted again—this time not into the garden or toward the horizon, but somewhere far more distant. Somewhere inside.

Aurelian leaned forward a touch, the last of his easy grin gone, replaced by something thoughtful. Cedric’s eyes hadn’t left her once, his posture still and steady, but attentive.

Finally, Elara’s lips parted.

“I’m not sure,” she said, the words slow and careful. “But… he may be someone I once knew.”

Selphine’s eyes narrowed. “Really?”

Elara didn’t flinch at the weight behind the question.

“…He reminds me of someone,” she admitted, fingers brushing the rim of her cup. “From long ago. Or… not so long, really. It just feels that way.”

Aurelian exchanged a glance with Selphine, brows lifting, but neither interrupted her.

Elara’s fingers drifted from the porcelain cup and folded gently into her lap, her gaze still lost in that untouchable middle-distance—as if some thread had snapped, or perhaps, reconnected in a place she’d buried it long ago.

‘Luca.’

The name came not as a thought, but as a ghost.

It struck like a bell through her mind, reverberating in the marrow of her bones. The sound of it carried something dangerous—familiarity laced with ache, memory sharpened into blade. Her breath caught before it could finish.

She had thought—

He’s dead.

She had been sure of it. The vortex, the Kraken, the silence that followed. No one survived that kind of vanishing. Not unless—

Her eyes flickered, not with tears, but with disbelief.

Is it really him? That maddening grin, that impossible cat, that blade like a joke until it wasn’t—

“Is it really you?” she whispered. Not to them. Not to the garden.

To herself.

And perhaps—to a shadow.

Then, gently, a hand nudged at her arm.

She startled—just slightly. But enough. Enough for her mask to fracture, for the moment to contract back into the present. Cedric.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t need to.

His hand was warm, steady. But his eyes—those ocean-colored eyes—held a storm barely restrained. His jaw was tight. His brow drawn. But there was no anger in his touch.

Only warning.

Only memory.

And pain.

She turned to him slowly, and the look they shared was not one of surprise.

It was recognition.

They had fought about this. About him. About the way she kept chasing ghosts, kept reopening old wounds like they were pages in a story she didn’t know how to close. Cedric had never told her to forget—only that she was losing herself in what could be, instead of what was.

The silence stretched taut.

Then, like a second whisper layered behind her thoughts, another voice rose.

Eveline.

Sharp. Measured. Merciless as starlight on steel.

“You are not there to find closure. Or guilt. Or answers. You’re there to learn. To grow. And to remind them exactly what they threw away.”

Her master’s words flared in her chest, twin to the ache Luca’s name had reopened.

‘You don’t get to look back, not yet.’

Elara blinked slowly, pulling herself inward. The wind in the garden stirred her hair, tugging at the dark chestnut waves of her illusion.

She had to remember.

What she was doing here.

Why she had come.

When she looked up, her face had changed. The flicker of vulnerability was still there, but beneath it—steel. Tempered. Cold. Real.

“I don’t know if it’s him,” she said aloud, for all three to hear.

“But, it would be nice to see him again, I guess?”

A breath of silence passed between them, light as the garden breeze, but heavy with things unsaid.

Elara let the tension settle in her chest for one final moment before it melted—just slightly. Her lips curved. Not fully. Not enough to be called a smile by anyone who hadn’t known her before—but to someone like Cedric, it was unmistakable.

A soft, private tilt of her mouth. A breath of warmth in the winter of her restraint.

She was smiling at herself.

Barely.

But still.

‘I thought you were gone. But if you’re not… isn’t that a kind of mercy?’