Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Chapter 1025: Crossed Paths

“I… should get some rest.”

The night had grown quieter.

Most of the students had already retreated to their dorms, the courtyards bathed in the silvery wash of mana lanterns. The soft hum of the wards filled the silence—the kind of stillness that made every footstep sound louder than it should.

Elara and Cedric walked side by side, neither of them speaking. The earlier conversation still hung between them—thick, unsaid things that neither could quite smooth over. Cedric’s stride was steady, controlled as ever, while hers was slower, more deliberate.

The dormitories came into view at the far end of the courtyard, their windows glowing faintly like rows of quiet stars.

Then she saw him.

Lucavion.

He appeared from one of the side paths leading up from the training grounds, head tilted slightly down as he adjusted the strap of his satchel. His coat hung loose around his shoulders, and the white shirt beneath it was marked with faint streaks of dust and sweat. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the faint tracery of runes across his forearms—old, familiar markings that shimmered faintly in the moonlight.

He looked as though he’d come straight from a duel—or training, perhaps. His hair, usually in some form of careless order, fell untamed across his forehead, strands catching the faint silver glow.

Elara’s breath caught, though only for a second.

He looked… unbothered. Entirely himself.

Which somehow made it worse.

Cedric noticed him a beat later. His shoulders stiffened instantly, the calm he’d worn all evening hardening into something sharper.

Lucavion was the first to speak. “Evening.”

His tone was casual, almost lazy, as if they’d just met in passing between lectures. He stopped a few steps away, the faintest curve touching the corner of his mouth—half a greeting, half amusement.

Cedric’s jaw tightened. “Lucavion.”

Elara inclined her head, keeping her expression neutral. “You’re returning late.”

Cedric didn’t buy it. “You weren’t in the halls today,” he said, his tone clipped.

“You weren’t in the halls today,” Cedric said, tone clipped and controlled.

Lucavion paused—only slightly, but enough for the shift to register—before giving a lazy half-shrug, the kind that looked careless and intentional at the same time.

“I didn’t realize my daily route required a witness.”

Cedric’s jaw tensed. “It doesn’t.”

Lucavion lifted a brow. “You’re asking like it does.”

Elara stepped in quietly before Cedric’s irritation could sharpen further. “He meant you weren’t with the group after the exam.”

Lucavion blinked once, as if genuinely needing a moment to recall. “Ah. That.”

Cedric folded his arms. “You didn’t show up.”

Lucavion’s lips curved faintly. “I had things to do.”

“With what?” Cedric pressed.

Lucavion tilted his head—it wasn’t evasive so much as dismissive, as if the question was too small to merit an answer. “You seem unusually invested in my day, Reilan.”

Cedric’s brows drew together, the tension building. “People noticed.”

Lucavion chuckled under his breath. “Your eyes are saying something different.”

Cedric stiffened. “Really? You a mind reader now?”

Lucavion shook his head, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “No need. Yours are loud enough.”

A spark leapt between them—sharp, charged, thin as a knife’s edge. Cedric stepped half a foot closer, and Lucavion didn’t step back. Elara could feel the shift in the air, the invisible thread pulled taut between two men who recognized each other only as a threat.

To break the tension, she said quietly, “You’re returning late.”

Lucavion turned his attention to her—calmer, lighter. “Am I? Guess I lost track of time.”

“Training?” she asked.

For a fraction of a moment, something unreadable flickered across his eyes—surprise? calculation? But then the expression smoothed into his usual lazy composure.

“Something like that,” he said.

Cedric didn’t buy it, not for a heartbeat. “You weren’t anywhere near the exam hall,” he said again, voice lowering into something edged. “You didn’t show up before or after. You vanished.”

Lucavion’s smirk sharpened. “And here I thought I was allowed to walk the grounds without sending in a report.”

“Not when you disappear at the same time she does,” Cedric shot back.

Lucavion’s smile froze.

Barely.

But Elara saw it—the half-second stillness in his posture. The slight tightening of his grip on the satchel strap. The faint widening of his eyes.

“…She did?” he asked.

Elara’s heart stopped.

Cedric’s tone turned colder. “She wasn’t with us. She wasn’t anywhere. You weren’t either.”

Lucavion blinked, and this time there was no hiding the reaction. He recovered too fast—too consciously. His posture straightened, his expression smoothing over with a surface-level calm that didn’t quite hide the tension beneath.

His gaze flicked to Elara—brief, sharp, searching—and for the first time since they met him tonight, his façade cracked. Not wide. Not dramatically.

Just enough.

Enough for Elara to know that yes—he had been somewhere he didn’t want to admit to.

Yes—Cedric’s words landed too close to the truth.

Yes—he was hiding something.

“Is that so?”

Lucavion’s voice came light, careless, almost bored.

“Is that so?”

His tone pretended disinterest, but the crack in his composure—small as it was—still sat between them like a dropped pin.

Cedric stepped forward, eyes narrowing. “Don’t play dumb.”

Lucavion’s lips curled faintly. “Wasn’t aware I was playing anything.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“I avoid a lot of things,” Lucavion replied smoothly. “Questions included.”

Cedric’s jaw tightened. “Where were you?”

Lucavion’s smirk faltered just enough to show annoyance. “Busy.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s all you’re getting.” His tone cooled, a glassy sort of sharp. “I don’t owe you my schedule.”

Cedric took a step closer. “Then you won’t mind if I draw my own conclusions.”

Lucavion didn’t blink. “You already have.”

The tension spiked—thin, taut, electric. Lucavion wasn’t meeting Cedric’s anger with anger; he was meeting it with indifference, the kind that felt intentional. As if any reaction from him would give away more than he wanted.

He shifted the satchel on his shoulder, posture loosening as if the confrontation bored him.

“Well,” he exhaled, tone drifting back toward that lazy drawl, “this has been very informative.”

“Informative?” Cedric repeated, voice dangerous.

Lucavion gave a small, irreverent wave. “I’ll let you two return to your… evening.”

He turned as if to leave.

Cedric bristled, but Elara’s hand on his arm kept him from stepping after Lucavion.

Lucavion had walked only a few paces when Elara called out—

“Wait.”

He paused mid-step, head tilting just slightly before he looked back.

His eyes were on her now, calm but keen, the earlier cracks gone.

Elara swallowed. “Did you… receive the news?”

Lucavion blinked. “News?”

Elara hesitated, choosing her words with care. “About the new exam.”

She saw the flash of real confusion cut through his eyes like a blade through fog. His shoulders stiffened, and his brows drew together in a way that was unmistakably genuine.

“What new exam?” he asked.

Cedric let out a short, disbelieving breath. “You really have no idea.”

Lucavion’s gaze shifted between them, irritation bubbling beneath the confusion. “If you’re joking, I’m not in the mood.”

Elara shook her head. “It’s real. They announced it this evening. A new compulsory oral exam starting tomorrow.”

Lucavion stared at her.

And then, quietly—

“…Tomorrow?”

Lucavion’s reaction lingered in the air a beat too long.

He didn’t hide it—not well, not fully, not in time.

Lucavion didn’t get thrown off easily. But now—he looked… genuinely unbalanced. And that was rare. Strange, even.

The new exam wasn’t catastrophic news. It wasn’t world-ending. Students groaned, complained, cursed—but no one reacted like this.

Not unless—

he’d been so absorbed in something else he hadn’t even sensed a shift in the Academy’s wards.

something intense, consuming, dangerous.

Something more than “training.”

And the question came unbidden into Elara’s mind:

What was he actually doing?

She opened her mouth to speak—

but Cedric beat her to it.

“You look surprised,” he said quietly, tone cold enough to frost stone.

Lucavion straightened, smoothing his expression back into that aloof half-smile. “Do I?”

“Yes,” Cedric replied, no hesitation. “And that’s odd. You’re usually… difficult to rattle.”

Lucavion’s jaw tightened, the smallest flicker of irritation showing through.

“Maybe I’m tired.”

Cedric’s gaze sharpened. “Or maybe you were busy with something else.”

A subtle implication.

One loaded with names neither wanted to say aloud.

Isolde.