The Extra's Rise - Chapter 441

Chapter 441: Crimson Dancer (4)
After Alyssara’s dance—which frankly felt more like a high-level psychological attack than a performance—we were served dinner.

Five courses. Each meticulously crafted and presented with the kind of precision that made you wonder whether the chefs used nanobots or just very small knives. The food resembled Japanese cuisine from my old world: delicate, balanced, beautiful in the way that only things which took four hours to prepare and four seconds to eat could be.

It was delicious, no doubt about it. The kind of delicious that made your tongue briefly consider applying for citizenship. But I wasn’t exactly in the mood to appreciate it.

I was thinking.

Dangerous, I know.

The vampires needed to be exposed. Not the cults, not the creepy robe-wearing doomsayers—no, the vampires. The Red Chalice cult was already known to the public, which was a deviation from the novel I’d read in my old life. But the real threat, the one slithering just out of sight, was still underground. Literally and metaphorically.

The Vampire Monarch was supposed to recover slowly. Gradually. Give the heroes time to level up, unlock legendary weapons, sort out their feelings, and maybe open a bakery if they felt like it.

But that timeline wasn’t reliable anymore. Too many changes. Too many variables. If the Monarch woke up early, we’d be neck-deep in fangs and blood faster than anyone could say “classified threat level.”

So maybe now was the right time. I had the Martial King on my side, after all. That had to count for something. I couldn’t afford to wait until I was stronger. That was the kind of logic that got protagonists killed just before the final boss fight.

And then, in the middle of my internal world-ending monologue—

“Open your mouth,” came a voice so sweet and gentle it could’ve put sugar out of business. I obeyed without thinking, too deep in vampire-planning mode to process anything.

Something warm and savory landed on my tongue. Sea lotus dumpling. It practically dissolved, releasing a flavor that could win peace treaties. My taste buds gave it a standing ovation. I blinked.

Rachel smiled beside me. “Don’t think so much,” she said. “You should enjoy yourself. The food here’s actually pretty good, you know.”

“Sorry,” I muttered, the way you do when you’ve just realized someone had to manually remind you to eat like a functioning organism.

“You’re sitting awfully close, aren’t you?” Cecilia’s voice cut through the air like a well-aimed dagger wrapped in velvet. Her crimson eyes narrowed into that look she got when she was just about to deploy sarcasm as a lethal weapon.

Only then did I realize where my left arm was. More specifically, what it was currently buried in. Rachel. Or to be precise, Rachel’s side, which was pressing in just the right way to make my neurons short-circuit.

“I was feeding him,” Rachel clarified, tone sweet with the kind of innocence that wasn’t fooling anyone. “Since he clearly can’t do it himself. Unlike a certain someone, I actually take care of him.”

That did it.

Cecilia’s brows dropped a few millimeters, which in her case was roughly the emotional equivalent of launching a warship. Across the table, I saw Rose’s eyes narrow and Seraphina’s fingers twitch, the kind of twitch that meant someone was about to pretend everything was fine while silently declaring social war.

And then—

‘Nothing like a good old catfight to snap you out of your brooding,’ said Luna inside my head, unhelpful as always.

I chose, wisely, to ignore her.

“Arthur,” came Lucifer’s voice, smooth and calm like a still lake under starlight. He stood beside me, tall and perfectly composed, his uniform sharp, posture regal—the very image of a noble prince trained since birth to look like hope incarnate. The kind of man who stepped into a room and made people stand a little straighter without knowing why.

“There’s been a lot between us left unsaid,” he said, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You’ve been gone a long time. Let’s eat together—like old times.”

There was no edge in his voice, no smugness, no performance. Just sincerity wrapped in that ever-gentle tone of his, the kind that made people believe everything would be okay. Honestly, it was hard not to like Lucifer. He had that quiet hero quality—always polished, always humble, always somehow right.

He was also, regrettably, my only male friend in this entire nightmare of a social ecosystem.

I hadn’t spent much time with him after returning from the Well of Miasma. Not by choice—just… circumstance. My schedule had been hijacked by four very determined girls, each of whom had the patience of a missile. But now? Now felt like a good time to change that.

“I’ll catch up with you four later,” I told the girls as I stood. They blinked at me as if I’d just suggested removing oxygen from the room. But I didn’t waver. It wasn’t like I hadn’t already spent hours with them, and I was going to dance with each of them during the banquet. One meal wouldn’t tip the balance of affection.

“To think Lucifer would—” Cecilia began, then stopped herself. “How can he even—”

I activated full mental noise suppression. There were just some things you didn’t need to hear if you wanted to keep your sanity intact.

Lucifer and I walked to the nearby table where Ren gave me a nod—the kind that meant glad you’re here, don’t expect a hug. Ian, true to form, looked like he’d just seen dessert arrive early and waved me over with bright enthusiasm.

Seol-ah and Ava were already seated, looking appropriately aloof, like queens of parallel dimensions.

“These two don’t mingle much,” Ren commented as I sat.

“Not outcasts,” Ava corrected sharply. “We’re just not keen on forced pleasantries.”

I understood. Students from the Eastern continent had to deal with hierarchy on hard mode. Sitting next to the daughters of the Five Great Families probably felt like eating dinner in a diplomatic minefield. Blink wrong and someone would misinterpret it as an insult to their grandmother.

“And Gu?” Ren asked, poking at the boundaries of Ava’s patience.

“She’s a different case,” Ava replied, waving it off. Then her gaze sharpened like a blade. “Anyway, Ren, tell me something. You seem to avoid girls like they’ve got a virus. Why’s that?”

Ren narrowed his eyes. “What are you implying?”

Ava looked at Seol-ah, who gave the world’s smallest shrug, then plowed forward. “Just that there’s a rumor spreading. Apparently, the great Kagu heir prefers… a different type of partner.”

Ian’s soda shot out of his nose. Not mouth—nose. He doubled over coughing, and I was too busy holding in my own laughter to be much help. I managed a weak pat on his back.

Lucifer, the model of composure moments ago, hunched forward, hand over his mouth as his shoulders trembled with silent laughter. Even the hero prince wasn’t immune to this level of chaos.

Ren?

He stared.

Frozen.

Eyes wide, jaw slack, blinking rapidly like his internal systems had just blue-screened.

“It’s because Prince Ren refused to dance at every birthday banquet since turning sixteen,” Seol-ah said, calm as ice. “And that’s a tradition. A very public one.”

“Which means,” Ava concluded, “people notice.”

Ren opened his mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again.

“I don’t like dancing,” he said, finally, with the raw desperation of someone trying to shout over a hurricane.

“Sure,” Ava said sweetly. “That’s exactly what I’d say too.”

And just like that, our table was ground zero for one of the academy’s most explosive rumors yet. But at least I was finally having dinner with a friend.

A heroic one. Who was also now laughing so hard he nearly dropped his water glass.