The Extra's Rise - Chapter 440

Chapter 440: Crimson Dancer (3)
Lucifer watched Alyssara dance, and he felt it—that inconvenient thump of the heart, the faint heat rising in his cheeks, the unmistakable signs of biological betrayal. His brain, the allegedly rational one, tried to chalk it up to aesthetics. She was beautiful. Extremely so. But this? This felt less like appreciation and more like someone had spiked the air with pheromones.

He looked around. Yes. Good. It wasn’t just him. All around the hall, men and women alike wore expressions usually reserved for private dreams and embarrassing memories. Blushing cheeks, parted lips, eyes fixed as if watching a data stream they couldn’t tear away from.

Then his gaze met Arthur’s. That was when the dance, Alyssara, and the rest of the galaxy became secondary.

Arthur’s blue eyes—no, azure, which sounded poetic and therefore more dangerous—locked onto his with a look that could’ve melted titanium plating. Lucifer flinched. His stomach dropped, mouth dry as Martian dust, and his hand clenched the side of the chair like it was the only thing keeping him from being pulled into a black hole.

Danger.

Not physical. Not the usual sword-point-or-blaster-barrel kind. No, this was the cold, instinctive kind of danger. The kind that made animals run from the forest long before the storm hit.

‘Why?’ Lucifer thought. Arthur wasn’t his enemy. They weren’t best friends, but they were friendly. He admired Arthur. Rivalled him, even. A quiet sort of competition—the kind forged through sparring matches, near-death missions, and unspoken mutual respect.

But this look? This look was not friendly. This look made Lucifer’s skin crawl.

Arthur had never looked at him like that before.

There had always been camaraderie between them. At least, Lucifer had assumed there was. But now Arthur’s gaze felt like a diagnostic scan with malicious intent. Cold. Calculating. And above all, personal.

Lucifer found himself watching Arthur instead of the dancer, which said something, considering Alyssara was currently moving like the laws of physics had taken a coffee break. But Arthur’s expression—that was the real show.

Lucifer prided himself on reading people. Politics, court drama, diplomacy—you don’t grow up a prince without learning the art of expression management. Arthur, however, had always been a locked file. Calm. Quiet. Unreadable.

But tonight, the encryption cracked.

He saw the flicker of recognition. Pain, even. Like Arthur was staring at something he’d buried and didn’t want dug up again. A memory, maybe. A ghost. Something that had no business being here.

And then—coldness. A mask so sudden and precise it made Lucifer flinch again. Emotion vanished. Replaced by the kind of composed neutrality you’d expect from a war-forged android.

‘She reminds him of someone,’ Lucifer concluded. It was the only thing that made sense. No one looked like that over a dance. Not unless they were in love, or in grief. Or both.

It was troubling, to say the least. Arthur had four girls orbiting him like personal moons, and all of them were the possessive type—beautiful, powerful, dangerous, and terrifyingly attentive. If this dance unlocked some kind of old wound, Lucifer knew things were going to go sideways fast.

‘I should help him,’ Lucifer decided, though part of him sighed as he did. He liked Arthur. Wanted to be closer friends. They’d started to build something during the second year, the kind of bond that wasn’t easy to find in a world where friendships often came with agendas.

Then came the Field Trip Incident. Possession. Vanishing. A whole year lost. And when Arthur came back, well… the four girls formed a human firewall. Getting any time with him was like trying to schedule a meeting with a high-security diplomat during wartime.

Too much drama.

Lucifer sighed, dragging his gaze away from Arthur, his hand finally relaxing its death grip on the chair. This, right here, was exactly why he was sticking to tradition.

One woman. One peaceful life. Minimal bloodshed.

Hopefully.

The dance concluded with thunderous applause, and Alyssara took a final bow before gliding off the performance area with the same ethereal grace that had characterized her entire routine. The spell she’d cast over the room lingered, hanging in the air like expensive perfume.

As if choreographed by the same hand that had directed Alyssara’s performance, servers appeared from concealed doorways around the grand hall. They moved with synchronized precision, each dressed in traditional Eastern formal attire—flowing robes in deep blue with silver embroidery that caught the light as they walked.

Lord Daedric raised his hand, signaling the commencement of the meal. “The Southern Sea Sun Palace is honored to present a culinary journey through the Eastern traditions,” he announced, his voice carrying effortlessly across the hall. “We begin with the first of seven courses.”

The servers approached each table, carrying lacquered trays laden with artfully arranged dishes. Lucifer watched as the first course was placed before him—a small ceramic vessel containing what appeared to be a clear broth, so transparent he could see the delicate pattern painted on the inside of the bowl. Floating within were tiny parcels of something that resembled flower blossoms.

“Akuon broth with sea lotus dumplings,” the server explained, his voice soft and respectful. “To cleanse the palate and prepare the senses.”

Lucifer lifted the small bowl, inhaling the subtle aroma. It wasn’t scent as much as it was suggestion—hints of ocean depths and rare herbs cultivated only on the Eastern continent. He sipped carefully, and flavor bloomed across his tongue—complex, layered, and somehow both familiar and entirely new.

Across the table, he noted Arthur’s four companions reacting to the broth in ways that revealed more about them than perhaps they intended. Rachel attacked hers with characteristic enthusiasm, eyes widening at the flavor explosion. Cecilia sipped with practiced aristocratic precision, though her eyebrows lifted slightly in appreciation. Seraphina analyzed each element methodically, as if cataloging the experience for future reference. Rose, the Marquis’s daughter, seemed to recognize the preparation, nodding slightly as if confirming something she’d expected.

Arthur himself was more focused on his immediate surroundings than the food, his gaze sweeping the room in subtle scanning patterns. Intelligence gathering, Lucifer recognized, while maintaining the appearance of a guest enjoying a formal meal. It was the kind of multitasking that came naturally to someone accustomed to operating in hostile territory.

The second course arrived as the first was completed—delicate slices of raw fish arranged like a blooming flower, each piece resting on a small mound of seasoned grain the color of sunrise.

“Sakana,” the server introduced, “harvested from the sacred pools beneath Mount Korin, prepared in the traditional sea-to-blade method.”

Lucifer had experienced similar cuisine on diplomatic visits, but this was exceptional even by royal standards. The fish—if one could call such a delicacy by so simple a term—practically melted on contact with the tongue, releasing waves of flavor that seemed to tell the story of its origins.

The third course arrived—a small, steaming wooden box containing what appeared to be miniature landscapes made entirely of edible components. A mountain of carefully seasoned rice, a forest of microgreens, a river of blue sauce that seemed to shimmer with its own internal light.

“Yama-umi,” the server announced. “The meeting of mountain and sea.”

But it was Arthur’s occasional glances toward Alyssara—now seated at the high table beside Lord Daedric—that most intrigued him. There was something unresolved there, something that went beyond mere attraction or curiosity.

The fifth course—a steaming earthenware pot containing a broth so rich it was nearly opaque, with various ingredients arranged in symbolic patterns—arrived just as conversation around the table shifted.

“The presentation is exquisite,” came a calm voice to Lucifer’s left. Ren Kagu, heir to the most powerful family in the East, examined the dish with practiced familiarity. “Though not quite what I’m accustomed to.”

“Different from your homeland’s cuisine?” Lucifer asked, genuinely curious.

Ren’s violet eyes reflected the soft light as he nodded. “The Southern Sea Sun Palace draws inspiration from the island traditions of the Eastern archipelago—more focused on the purity of ingredients and seasonal alignment. My family’s region emphasizes bold flavors, complex spice blends, and symbolic arrangements.”

“So essentially, the difference between…” Lucifer searched for the right comparison.

“Between meditation and storytelling,” Ren supplied. “Both are powerful in their own way, but serve different purposes.”

Ian joined the conversation from across the table, his golden eyes bright with amusement. “Ren’s just being diplomatic. His family’s chefs would consider this beautiful but bland.”

“Not bland,” Ren corrected with a slight smile. “Subtle. There’s a difference.”

Lucifer appreciated the rare moment of camaraderie with his fellow Class-A students. These exchanges had become increasingly uncommon as academic competition intensified and personal entanglements complicated their relationships. Moments like this reminded him of their first year, before rivalries had fully crystallized.

Movement near the high table caught his attention. A young woman—no, a girl who couldn’t be older than eighteen—was standing beside Lord Daedric, offering what appeared to be a ceremonial cup. Her red hair was pulled back in a severe style that emphasized her startlingly mature features, and she moved with the fluid grace of someone far older.

“Who is that?” Lucifer asked, keeping his voice casual.

Ren followed his gaze. “Lord Daedric’s daughter I presume.” His tone remained neutral, but the slight tension in his shoulders spoke volumes.

Lucifer observed her more carefully. There was something unusual about her mana signature—a controlled intensity that rippled outward in carefully measured waves. Most teenagers, even exceptionally talented ones, lacked such precise regulation.

“She’s mid-Integration rank,” he noted with surprise. At their age, reaching such a level was remarkable even among the elite students of Mythos Academy.

Looks like there was a talent in the Southern Sea Sun Palace.