Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra - Chapter 708

Chapter 708: Seeing through changes
“Nothing,” he said aloud, voice easy, deflective.

[That kind of nothing makes my tail itch,] she muttered.

But she didn’t press.

Lucavion let his fingers trail briefly across the projection glass once more before the light dimmed completely. His reflection faded into it—leaving only the echo of the crest behind.

Then he turned away from it.

Quiet.

Composed.

And carrying a silence that felt heavier than it should.

Once the final measurements were recorded and the tailors stepped away, the runes dimmed beneath their feet, signaling the end of the session. The room returned to stillness—only now, each of them carried something tailored not just to their frame, but to the image the world was about to see.

Kaleran reappeared with his usual timing—precise, composed, unavoidable.

His slate cloak didn’t so much rustle as it simply existed in motion, much like the man himself. He stepped to the center of the room and folded his hands behind his back.

“Now that your attire has been catalogued,” he began, “we move to logistics.”

They turned to face him, some more reluctantly than others. Toven was still muttering something to his tailor about adding ‘subtle flames’ down the sleeves. Mireilla gave him a look that implied there was nothing subtle about it.

Kaleran continued without waiting for silence.

“Your schedules for the next days will be delivered to your suites shortly. Etiquette consultations, and the formal banquet rehearsal are all included. You are expected to attend all scheduled events unless given direct exemption by an instructor or ranking officer.”

His gaze lingered just long enough to imply that missing a single minute would be considered an act of treason.

Then his tone shifted—slightly.

“There is one other matter,” he added, glancing briefly toward Lucavion, then back to the group. “Sponsor interviews.”

The air thinned just a touch.

Kaleran kept speaking, voice smooth, professional. “If you wish to meet with any of the noble houses, factions, or independent patrons that have expressed interest in supporting you, you may submit your request through the Resonance Conductor in your suite. Meetings are to be scheduled tomorrow and the day after.”

Lucavion didn’t blink. But he could already feel the invisible weight trying to press in around him.

“Tonight,” Kaleran continued, “the official list of initial sponsors will be finalized. Any of you may review the offers sent to your name and accept, decline, or defer as you see fit.”

He glanced around the room—and then let his gaze fall, inevitably, back on Lucavion.

“Though some of you,” he said, just faintly dry, “will likely be reviewing several dozen.”

Lucavion gave a slow, almost innocent blink. “Is that unusual?”

Kaleran’s mouth tightened by a fraction. “Rare. But not unheard of.”

Toven leaned toward Elayne and whispered, “He’s already got nobles tripping over each other, doesn’t he?”

Mireilla didn’t answer. But the look she gave Lucavion wasn’t quite irritation.

Not quite admiration either.

Just the acknowledgement of someone who saw how fast the tides were shifting—and how easily he was already moving with them.

Kaleran turned toward the door, the discussion clearly concluded. “You are dismissed for the afternoon. Use your time wisely.”

He paused at the threshold, then glanced back—eyes locking once more with Lucavion’s, but the words were for them all.

“The world is watching now.”

And then he was gone.

Leaving behind silence—and the sound of choices already beginning to whisper.

****

Lucavion stepped through the suite doors just as they parted for him, the aetheric lock recognizing his presence with a soundless click. The faint pulse of mana from the Resonance Conductor greeted him like a heartbeat beneath the floor. Warm, familiar.

The room, as ever, responded to his mood.

Lights dimmed to a thoughtful dusk. The sky projected on the dome above shifted into a gradient twilight—neither his homeland’s stars nor the capital’s moonscape, but something in-between. Caught in transition. Unsettled.

He didn’t speak a command this time. He didn’t need to. The tea tray shimmered into place on instinct, bitter and dark, exactly as he liked it. The cup was warm against his fingers as he sank into the low-slung seat near the interface glass.

Quiet.

Composed.

But not at ease.

The projection glass still bore the faint after-image of his measurements, the rune patterns slowly fading from view. Not unlike the names that hadn’t made it through the entrance exams.

Names like hers.

He sipped once, letting the bitterness anchor him. No sign of her. Not during the final rounds. Not even a whisper.

Elara.

The supposed main character.

The “hidden prodigy.”

He hadn’t seen her.

Not once.

That, in itself, was almost laughable.

‘A character built to change the world… and she vanishes in the opening act?’

He leaned back, gaze tracking the slow swirl of light above him, eyes hooded.

No.

She hadn’t vanished.

Just… re-entered differently.

That must be how things are.

There’s simply no version of this story where Elara doesn’t join the academy.

She knows who’s here. Isolde. Adrian. The two that—by every turn of fate and plot—shape the foundation of her rise. She wouldn’t abandon that stage. Not even if the script had changed. Especially not then.

Lucavion’s fingers tapped once, idly, against the cup’s rim.

Elara wasn’t erased. She was upgraded.

Her motivation demands it. Her presence demands it.

And then, there’s Eveline.

Archmage of the Frost.

Guardian of forbidden tomes. Doting mistress of a girl she sees more as daughter than disciple.

If Elara wanted in, Eveline would move kingdoms.

‘Nah….that is a little bit overkill.’

She wouldn’t do that, but in a sense she is quite fond of Elara even if she doesn’t show it. In Shattered Innocence, the writer described her as such at least.

“I need to attend the Imperial Academy.”

And Eveline would’ve smiled, just so, like it had been her idea from the beginning.

No summons. No entrance exam. Just an emblem. A family name. A place pre-arranged through channels no commoner ever sees.

A noble’s path.

Lucavion set the cup down, watching the steam drift like thoughts he didn’t want to name. That’s the only explanation that fits.

‘Heh…’

The sound escaped him, soft, sardonic.

Of course.

The moment he’d interfered—Stormhaven had never stood a chance.

He remembered it clearly. That fractured battlefield, mana screams and steel clashing in the downpour. The cries of adventurers and how he had dealt with that Kraken.

In the essence it was a catastrophe for the city of the Stormhaven.

And Lucavion had stepped in.

A flicker of void. A single deflection.

Duke Thaddeus lived with both arms intact.

And Aeliana?

She lived. Because of him.

She wasn’t supposed to. Her death was a catalyst. A tragic domino that spiraled into Elara’s awakening and reshaped the central arc.

And he’d broken that domino with the ease of someone tired of the script.

He splayed his fingers against the projection glass, watching the faint glow dance across his knuckles. The afterimage of runes still shimmered there, like echoes refusing to vanish.

A butterfly flaps its wings…

And the future splits.

He hadn’t just nudged a thread.

He’d cut the weave.

And the story—this story—was still trying to catch up.

Lucavion smiled to himself, slow and dry.

“So it was going to be like that… how ironic…”

Of course it was.

She wouldn’t come in as herself. Not the girl from the slums with soot on her fingers and defiance in her stare. No, the academy wouldn’t see her—they’d see a noble’s heir. Another polished prodigy with a name that opened doors.

New clothes. New name. New face, maybe. A subtle glamour. A recrafted identity. Something elegant and forgettable enough to pass beneath the radar—until she wanted to be seen.

And when she did want to be seen?

Well… that was the moment he was waiting for.

He chuckled under his breath. “And maybe I won’t recognize her. Not at first. Or maybe I’ll know it’s her the moment she tries to lie with her eyes.”

He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until a voice stirred behind him.

[What are you saying?] Vitaliara’s tone slid in like a feline’s paw—curious, mildly accusatory, but too lazy to be serious.

He didn’t turn. Just rested his forearms on his knees, still watching the swirl of runes fade into nothing. “Just thinking to myself.”

[Hm.] A flutter of tail against the cushion. [Those who speak to themselves are usually called crazy in the forest.]

He shrugged, not even bothering to hide the smirk. “It’s a facade of words crafted by people who can’t bear to be alone with their thoughts.”

[Ooooh.] She stretched lazily across the back of the couch. [Now you’re just being poetic to deflect the fact that you’re talking to invisible people.]

“They’re not invisible,” he said mildly. “They’re just delayed.”

[That’s not better.]

Lucavion tilted the cup slightly, watching the last curl of steam fade like a breath too tired to stay.

Then, without missing a beat, he murmured, “How are you faring, by the way?”

[That’s a clumsy deflection,] Vitaliara drawled, the tip of her tail flicking lazily over the back of the seat. [But I’ll allow it.]

He gave a noncommittal hum—neither in agreement nor denial. Just enough to say, yes, and?

She rolled onto her side, feline form half-melted into shadow where the ambient light dipped low. [I sense a lot of mythical beasts around.]

———A/N———-

Finally, my exams are over. Yesterday’s exam was so strong that I caught a flu….

I will post 2 more chapters later.