The Cursed Extra: Bloodline of Sacrifice - Chapter 153

Chapter 153: Tempting Caspian
The match was over. Caspian stood in the middle of the battlefield.

Vera was a few steps behind, his bow lowered, his presence neutral. He had supported, but barely.

It was noticeable. Caspian’s gaze flicked toward him for a second before shifting away.

There was no need for words.

Across the field, the last remnants of Team Saga were being escorted off. The capsules that had held their eliminated members were being cleared away, their defeat sealed. 3 vs 4 had quickly turned into 1 vs 2, and yet Caspian had handled it alone.

Not surprising.

He stretched his fingers slightly, rotating his shoulder to check for any serious injuries. Nothing bad.

More importantly, the match had given him a clear answer.

Vera was unreliable. That much was obvious.

Not outright incompetent, but when it mattered, he had chosen to hold back.

Caspian wouldn’t call it betrayal, but it was close enough.

Kairos had collapsed under pressure. Hesitation. Weak mindset. If this had been a real fight, he’d be dead.

Lyrius and Calenthir were gone, but they had done their part. Their eliminations weren’t meaningless.

The enemy had underestimated him.

A mistake he had capitalized on.

His fingers twitched slightly as he thought back to the last two opponents. No wasted movements, no unnecessary risks. That was the only reason he won.

If he had fought like them—relying on raw power without calculation—he would have lost.

That was the difference. He fought to win. They fought for dominance.

Vera finally spoke, his voice as casual as ever.

“You’re not gonna collapse, are you?”

Caspian rolled his shoulder. “No.”

Vera clicked his tongue. “Figured.”

Silence.

Kairos was sitting on the ground nearby, not looking at anyone.

His elimination had been pitiful, and he knew it. Caspian didn’t acknowledge him.

What was the point? A weak link was a weak link. Words wouldn’t change that.

One of the academy staff walked up, logging the results. “Match concluded. Winning team: Team Z.”

That was all that mattered.

.

(POV :Vera)

Vera exhaled.

His hands were steady, as expected. He hadn’t wasted energy in this fight.

He had played it right.

Everyone thought strength was all that mattered. It wasn’t. If that was the case, half the idiots in this academy would already be dead.

Survival required more than power—it required calculation.

That was why he was here, instead of rotting in some lower-ranked academy with nobodies.

If he had fought harder, it wouldn’t have changed the result. If he had fought softer, he’d be labeled a traitor. He had played the middle ground.

And Caspian still managed to win.

That was interesting.

Vera adjusted his gloves, glancing at the remaining team members.

This team still had hope.

He smirked slightly, shaking his head. “Well. That was fun.”

For the first time, he actually meant it.

.

(POV : Caspian)

The corridor was dimly lit as Caspian walked towards his dorm as he turned the corner, a familiar sight greeted him.

His door—painted over in crude insults.

“ASSHOLE.”

“DO YOU EVEN BELONG HERE?”

“JUST DROP OUT.”

Caspian exhaled. Again.

There was no need to guess who had done this. Eirak and Jaxar. His dear older brothers.

Even after being warned, they still hadn’t stopped their childish antics.

His fingers traced the dried paint as he pushed the door open.

His shoulders tensed.

His entire room was a mess.

Paint smeared across the walls, his bed, even his desk. Some messages were even carved in. They had gone beyond simple vandalism this time.

The strong stench of chemicals filled the air.

Caspian sighed, rubbing his temple. “How the hell did they get the keys?”

More importantly—did it even matter?

He was too tired to care right now.

His body ached from the matche, and the last thing he wanted was to clean up after his brothers’ nonsense.

Caspian walked past the destruction, ignoring it completely.

Instead, he stepped onto his balcony. A cool breeze hit his skin.

He slumped into the large chair, leaned his head back, and let his body relax.

He was asleep within seconds.

.

Caspian woke up to the first rays of sunlight.

His body felt slightly stiff from sleeping outside, but it was still better than sleeping on a paint-covered bed.

He ran a hand through his hair before walking back into his ruined room.

His feet crunched against dried paint flakes on the floor.

After a quick shower, he grabbed his drawer handle, only to pause.

A bad feeling crept up his spine.

He pulled it open.

His clothes were ruined.

Torn, cut, even dyed in ugly colors. His brothers had gone all out.

Caspian clicked his tongue. “Hah…”

Annoying.

Wearing a towel, he grabbed his key and stepped out.

Knock-Knock.

A few seconds later, the door swung open. Lyrius stood there, his hair slightly messy, shirt wrinkled, and a clear look of confusion on his face.

His gaze traveled from Caspian’s face… to his bare shoulders… to the towel wrapped around his waist.

“…Something wrong?” Lyrius finally asked.

Caspian, unfazed, leaned against the doorway. “Lend me a T-shirt.”

Lyrius blinked. Once. Twice. “…What?”

Caspian tilted his head slightly. “I need a T-shirt. Mine are all ruined.”

Lyrius stared at him for a few seconds longer before sighing. “Okay. Hold on.” He stepped back into his room, rummaged through his drawer, and tossed a plain black T-shirt at Caspian.

Caspian caught it and nodded. “Thanks.” He turned around and left without another word.

Lyrius closed the door behind him, exhaling. “What the hell even happens in that guy’s life?”

.

Caspian made it to class, blending into the usual academy routine.

The professors spoke, students half-listened, and time moved forward at its own pace.

As the last class ended, Caspian stretched his shoulders. He needed new clothes.

Outside the academy, then.

.

The academy grounds were quieter than usual as students dispersed after classes.

Caspian was making his way toward the academy gates when—

“Caspian.”

A familiar voice called out from behind him.

He turned his head slightly. Fianna.

Her silver hair shimmered under the sun, and her sharp blue eyes studied him intently. There was something about her gaze—half lazy, half calculating.

Caspian didn’t stop walking.

Fianna, without hesitation, fell into step beside him.

Her pace was relaxed, but her expression carried a rare seriousness.

“Something happened?” she asked.

“Nothing.” Caspian replied.

She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Silence.

Fianna sighed, shaking her head. “I heard the rumors. About your room.”

Caspian’s steps didn’t falter. His expression remained unreadable.

Fianna, however, was not as calm.

Who the fuck did it?

She was already irritated.

The thought of some useless, insignificant pests daring to touch her Caspian’s room—no, his things—made something ugly bubble inside her.

If it wasn’t for maintaining a proper image, she would have already dealt with it.

Burned their uniforms. Slashed their faces. Anything to make them regret it.

Instead, she forced her tone to remain light. “So? Who was it?”

“Not important.” Caspian replied.

Fianna narrowed her eyes slightly. That meant he knew exactly who it was.

And yet, he wasn’t doing anything.

That irritated her even more.

She shoved her hands into her coat pockets, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

“And? What now? You’re just going to let it go?”

Caspian exhaled lightly. “I’m not wasting my time on idiots.”

Fianna scoffed. “They painted your room, destroyed your things, and you’re acting like it’s a minor inconvenience.”

Caspian gave her a sidelong glance. “It is.”

She clicked her tongue. “And your clothes? You don’t even have a change, do you?”

“I’ll buy new ones.”

Fianna stopped walking.

Caspian took a few steps forward before noticing. He turned slightly. “What?”

She smiled.

It wasn’t her usual polite smile—the one she wore when dealing with nobility or acting in social settings.

No.

It was sharper. Amused.

And slightly dangerous.

“You’re going shopping?”

Caspian nodded once.

Fianna took a step forward. “Then let’s go together.”

Caspian blinked. “Why?”

She tilted her head, still smiling. “Why not?”

Caspian was silent for a few moments before sighing. “Do what you want.”

Fianna’s eyes glowed slightly with satisfaction as she followed him.

As they made their way through the academy gates, Fianna’s thoughts drifted.

She glanced at Caspian—his usual neutral expression, the quiet but commanding presence he had.

He was hers.

…And yet, why did it take something as stupid as someone ruining his room for her to get a moment alone with him?

Her fingers curled slightly.

What if…

What if this happened again?

Every day.

Caspian would lose his clothes.

Caspian would need to go shopping.

Caspian would need her.

A slow, almost too-sweet smile curled on her lips.

“Whoever tore his clothes… should do it daily.”

She didn’t say it aloud.

But maybe… just maybe… she’d ensure it happened.

.

The shopping mall was grand—high ceilings, marble floors that reflected the golden glow of chandeliers, and rows of high-end stores.

Caspian had barely stepped inside when—

“Ah!”

Fianna suddenly rushed ahead, her silver hair flowing behind her as she darted toward one of the displays.

Caspian sighed. Of course.

This was supposed to be his shopping trip. He had one goal: buy some new clothes and leave.

Instead…

….

[Two hours later.]

“Caspian! How does this look?”

Caspian, sitting on a bench with his arms crossed, lifted his gaze.

Fianna twirled in front of him, wearing a sleek black dress that hugged her figure, stopping just above the knees.

He blinked once. “It looks fine.”

Fianna frowned. “That’s all? ‘It looks fine’?”

Caspian exhaled. “It’s a dress. It looks like a dress.”

Fianna clicked her tongue and disappeared back into the store.

A few minutes later—

“Caspian! What about this one?”

A long, flowing red gown.

“It’s fine.”

“Caspian! How about this?”

A deep blue cocktail dress.

“It’s fine.”

Caspian rubbed his temple.

It was supposed to be his shopping trip.

But here he was.

Waiting.

Like an idiot.

Fianna wasn’t oblivious to his irritation.

In fact, she liked it.

He wasn’t the type to react emotionally, but she could tell—his patience was thinning. His gaze had shifted from interest to something bordering annoyance.

That was fine.

Let him be annoyed.

She wanted to see how far she could push him.

As she wandered through the store, her eyes landed on a particular dress.

No.

Calling it a “dress” was generous.

It was black, silky, and sheer in the worst possible way. It had a dangerously low neckline, the back was entirely open, and the slit ran up high—too high.

Fianna picked it up slowly.

Would this work?

She thought about it.

Caspian wasn’t easy to shake. He was too composed, too logical. But everyone had limits.

She glanced back at him—still sitting, arms crossed, waiting.

Would this be enough to make him react?

A slow smirk curled on her lips.

Let’s find out.