Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Chapter 1046  Shared paths, diverging thoughts

“I have my exam at twelve as well,” Elowyn said.

Lucavion’s attention snapped to her with mild interest. “Do you now? Then perhaps we’ll be walking the same path.”

Elowyn reached into her satchel and withdrew a neatly folded slip of parchment—the official exam notice. She unfolded it with the careful precision she applied to everything.

Valeria watched them both, her sense of unease tightening despite herself.

“What hall?” Lucavion asked, casually.

Elowyn scanned the line near the bottom. “Magisterial Annex Hall C.”

Lucavion’s lips curved in that maddening way they always did when something aligned too neatly for coincidence. “Interesting.”

He reached into his coat, retrieved his own slip, and slid it across the table toward Elowyn.

She picked it up.

Checked the hall.

Checked the time.

Her eyes lifted again. “It’s the same.”

Valeria felt her breath catch—an involuntary reaction she tried to mask behind a sip of water.

Same hall.

Same slot.

Same exam.

Her mind tried to frame it as an administrative mix-up, a scheduling necessity. But Lucavion’s soft, knowing hum made that difficult.

“Well then,” he said, standing with an easy flourish, “it seems we truly are headed in the same direction.”

Elowyn rose as well, adjusting her satchel strap with a practiced motion. “We should go. It takes a while to walk to that annex.”

Lucavion nodded. “Indeed it does.”

Valeria watched them gather their things. The dining hall around her seemed quieter than before—too open, too echoing. She hated that she noticed the space more when the two of them prepared to leave it.

Lucavion glanced down at her, his voice carrying that familiar, infuriating warmth. “Lady Knight, try not to overthink things while we’re gone.”

“I am not overthinking anything,” Valeria shot back a little too fast.

His smile widened. “Still sounded like it.”

Elowyn gave Valeria a small nod, gentler, more reassuring. “Thank you for the meal. And… for the trial earlier.”

Valeria looked away before her face betrayed anything. “Mn. Good luck.”

Lucavion tapped two fingers lightly against the table in farewell. “We’ll see you soon.”

And with that, the two of them turned toward the exit—walking side by side, their steps falling naturally into rhythm.

Valeria watched their silhouettes recede into the corridor, and the faint, hollow twist in her chest returned—quiet, persistent, unnamed.

She straightened in her seat, trying to steady the sudden heaviness in her breath.

‘It’s nothing,’ she told herself.

But the empty space across the table didn’t feel like nothing at all.

****

The corridor outside the dining hall was quiet, lit by soft mana-lamps that cast long ribbons of pale gold across the floor. Elara walked beside Lucavion, her stride steady and unhurried, satchel brushing against her hip with each step. From the outside, they likely looked like any two students heading to the same exam.

But the inside of Elara’s chest was not calm.

Not even close.

It wasn’t because of the exam. Not because of Lucavion’s sudden appearance either—she had braced herself for that from the moment she heard his voice behind her. What unsettled her now was the table she had left behind.

Valeria sitting stiffly, pretending she wasn’t staring at them.

Lucavion’s effortless teasing pulling reactions out of her she clearly didn’t know how to hide.

That strangely warm, unguarded smile Valeria had worn while talking about Andelheim.

And then—once Lucavion appeared—the way her expression had twisted into something softer than annoyance but sharper than embarrassment.

Elara replayed those moments with a sinking certainty.

‘I’ve seen something today I didn’t expect.’

‘Something I… didn’t want to see.’

Valeria’s reactions were too clear, too raw, too visible for someone usually disciplined to the bone. And because Elara herself had once known Lucavion under another name—because she had once been pulled into the orbit he created without realizing it—she recognized it instantly.

Valeria wasn’t just flustered.

Valeria was being played—or had been, at some point in the past. Elara didn’t know which possibility she disliked more.

Lucavion walked with casual ease, hands in his coat pockets, gaze drifting ahead as though unaware of the quiet knot forming in Elara’s chest. Of course he was unaware. Or perhaps he wasn’t—perhaps he was exactly the kind of person who noticed every shift, every breath, every tremor, but chose not to comment unless it benefited him.

He had always been like that.

“So quiet,” he said lightly, glancing sideways at her. “Are you preparing for the exam already?”

Elara didn’t break stride. “Just thinking.”

He hummed, amused. “Dangerous habit.”

“Necessary one,” she countered.

He smiled at that, but Elara kept her gaze forward. She didn’t need to see his face to know he enjoyed the exchange. He always enjoyed these verbal dances—pushing, pulling, weaving mischief into ordinary conversation.

But today, Elara wasn’t in the mood.

Her thoughts kept circling back to the dining hall.

To Valeria’s smile.

To the softening in her voice.

To the way her entire posture changed when she spoke about him—how easily the warmth returned even when she tried to sound detached. And then the way it shattered the second he appeared, like she didn’t know what to do with herself in his presence.

That was what shook Elara.

Not jealousy.

Not anger.

Not fear.

Just… recognition.

‘She’s responding to him the way I once did.’

‘And that means she’s vulnerable.’

‘And he… he’s the last person I trust with vulnerability.’

Elara adjusted her satchel strap, more out of habit than necessity. Lucavion shot her another sideways glance—quick, assessing, almost too perceptive.

“You look like you’re calculating something,” he said.

“I usually am,” she replied evenly.

He chuckled under his breath. “Should I be worried?”

“No.”

“Should Valeria?”

Elara’s step had faltered only the slightest measure, barely a shift in rhythm. Anyone else would have missed it entirely. Yet the moment she forced her stride back into alignment, she felt Lucavion’s gaze cut toward her—quiet, focused, unreadable.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t tease. Didn’t even cock his head the way he usually did when he caught someone reacting.

He simply looked.

Straight into her eyes.

For the first time since they left the dining hall, Elara wasn’t sure what he had noticed.

Or how much.

His face gave away nothing—not amusement, not suspicion, not warmth. Just that searching, effortless calm that made him impossible to pin down. Elara forced herself not to look away. She refused to give him the satisfaction.

“That was not about Valeria,” she said firmly.

His brow lifted, but only by a fraction.

“No?” he asked.

“No.”

She didn’t elaborate. She wouldn’t give him anything more to work with. Not when her thoughts were still tangled from what she had witnessed. Not when Valeria’s reactions were still too fresh in her mind, too raw.

Because Elara had no desire to involve Valeria in anything—not as leverage, not as a pawn, not as someone to manipulate. She wasn’t Cedric, who protected out of fear. And she certainly wasn’t Lucavion, who wrapped his intentions in layers so thin they felt transparent until the moment one realized they weren’t.

Her denial held. But her composure thinned for the barest breath.

Just long enough for another memory to slip through.

Lucavion’s laughter.

Not his usual soft chuckle or amused hum.

Not the low, knowing laugh he used to unsettle his opponents.

But that moment—just minutes earlier—when Valeria had snapped,

“WHO IS YOUR WIFE?!”

And he had broken.

A full, unrestrained laugh—bright, startled, genuine in a way Elara had never seen from him.

She clenched her jaw before the reaction could reach her expression.

‘How can you fake it so well?’

‘Or… was that real?’

Elara didn’t want to believe it. Couldn’t. Reality felt too skewed when she entertained the idea. Every part of her resisted the thought that Lucavion could produce something so unguarded—so human—without purpose behind it.

But…

But he had looked genuinely amused. His posture had lost that deliberate, feline balance he always maintained. For a moment, even Valeria’s embarrassment hadn’t seemed like a game to him.

It irritated her more than it should have.

She finally looked away from him, eyes returning to the corridor ahead. “You’re reading too much into things,” she said.

“Mm.” His tone was unreadable. “Perhaps.”

Perhaps.

Not a yes. Not a no.

He was probing. Testing. As always.

And Elara refused to give him a single piece of the truth he was fishing for.