Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Chapter 730: First Princess (3)

Selienne’s eyes drifted once more toward the faint soot lining the archway, the shimmer of mana residue still clinging like an aftertaste of conflict.

“Something,” she said smoothly, “seems to have happened here.”

Lucavion didn’t miss a beat.

“Nothing important for you to care about.”

A pause.

Then—

“Really?” Her voice dipped, sharp with amusement. “And who are you to decide what I will care about and what I will not?”

Lucavion’s head tilted slightly. A glint flickered behind his eyes.

“Who am I?” he echoed, voice dry. “The person who experienced it, maybe?”

Selienne’s brow rose—not in surprise, but in subtle provocation.

“Interesting,” she murmured. “You seem to have quite the quick mouth to run. I imagine it causes you trouble.”

“Anything is trouble when one struggles against it,” Lucavion replied without pause. “To those who do not struggle, trouble becomes… entertainment.”

There was silence for half a breath.

Then—

“Ahahahaha…”

Her laughter broke the air like a knife through silk—clean, startling, and strangely melodic.

This time, when Selienne smiled—

It reached her eyes.

Fully.

Not forced. Not calculated.

But genuine.

And far more dangerous.

“I knew,” she said, stepping closer, her eyes gleaming now, “that you were an interesting prospect.”

She stopped just within arm’s length, her gaze not just reading now—but indulging.

“But who knew I would meet someone like you… in here of all places?”

Lucavion didn’t move.

But his smirk widened—slightly.

“Neither did the last man who walked in,” he said. “And he left through fire.”

Selienne exhaled, the last trace of laughter fading into something more… deliberate.

“Well then,” she said, her voice warm as it was lethal. “Let’s see if we can finish this dance before the room burns too.”

“There’s no need for the room to burn,” Lucavion replied, smooth and measured, the flicker of amusement still playing at the corners of his lips. “I’m not a savage.”

He stepped past the projection glass with a casual ease, his fingers grazing the edge of the polished table.

“My fire only burns those who try to suppress me.”

Selienne’s eyes didn’t blink. But something in them settled—a quiet acknowledgement.

“They tried to suppress you,” she said softly, almost as if tasting the words. “I could see that.”

Lucavion smiled.

“Then it’s good we’re on the same page.”

Selienne tilted her head just slightly. “We may be on the same page…” Her tone dipped again, laced with something cooler. “Or we may not. We’ll see about that.”

“Careful, aren’t we,” Lucavion mused, voice low.

“Being careful,” she replied, “is the basic necessity to run the politics.”

“And too much of it,” he countered, “becomes paranoia.”

“Too much of anything is wrong,” she said simply, unbothered. “Doesn’t mean we should have nothing.”

Lucavion gave a small nod, his smirk folding back into something thoughtful.

“Fair enough.”

With his face softened—just slightly—as he let his gaze rest on her without veiling it in charm or provocation, he thought.

’Sharp woman,’ studying the contours of her expression. ’Not just intelligent. Dangerous. Measured. Like someone who doesn’t draw her blade unless she’s already certain the first cut will land.’

There was no movement wasted in her stance. No idle gesture. Even her breaths seemed timed to the rhythm of conversation—as if her body refused to betray anything her voice didn’t authorize.

’She really does carry that imperial blood,’ he mused, letting his eyes drop to the eclipsed star brooch for half a second. ’No heirs born of that line lack ambition—but only a few can wear it without letting the weight sink them. She’s walking just fine.’

Still, there was something else. Something deeper than pedigree or training.

Something more difficult to read.

He gestured smoothly to the seat across from him, the same chair that still held the ghost of heat from Khaedren’s brief, ill-fated presence.

“Would Your Highness care for a seat?” he asked, polite without deferring. “Unless you prefer to speak on your feet.”

Selienne’s eyes flicked to the chair, then back to him. Not because she needed permission. But because she was weighing the invitation.

After a pause, she stepped forward and sat—precisely, not delicately. Back straight. Ankles crossed. As if the act itself was part of the negotiation.

Lucavion remained standing a moment longer, just enough to acknowledge the dynamic shift before taking his own seat.

He leaned back slightly, one hand resting on the arm of the chair, the other tapping once against the resonance table’s edge.

“Well then,” he said lightly, though his eyes never lost their depth. “Now that the pleasantries are—mostly—out of the way…”

He met her gaze again, unblinking.

“Why are you really here?”

Selienne’s expression didn’t shift immediately—but then a professional, perfectly practiced smile unfurled across her face. Polished. Controlled. The kind of smile that was carved rather than born.

“Isn’t that something you already know?” she asked, voice smooth as ever. Not evasive. Just… positioned.

Lucavion gave the faintest shrug, letting one fingertip drag idly along the table’s edge as he met her gaze.

“Isn’t it better to hear from you directly,” he said evenly, “rather than make assumptions?”

He leaned in slightly—not in challenge, but in deliberate engagement.

“It’s better to avoid any misunderstandings right from the start.”

Selienne’s lips curved a touch further, the kind of shift that didn’t promise sincerity so much as curiosity.

“Misunderstandings,” she replied softly, “depend more on the person listening than the one speaking, I believe.”

“True,” Lucavion agreed. “But clear communication still makes it better, doesn’t it?”

That made her pause. Just for a heartbeat. Not long enough to imply hesitation—only long enough to confirm she had heard the point, filed it, and found it… reasonable.

She shifted her position slightly, not to relax but to signal she would entertain the line of dialogue.

And when she finally spoke again, her words came smoother. Colder.

“Very well,” she said. “Let’s speak clearly then.”

Selienne didn’t give him the luxury of buildup.

Her voice cut through the pause like drawn steel.

“Become mine.”

The air between them sharpened. Not with threat. Not with heat. But with precision.

Her words were direct—undiluted by metaphor or diplomacy. Her posture matched them: poised, still, and honed like a weapon unsheathed. She didn’t lean forward. She didn’t blink. She simply was—every inch of her carved into imperial intent.

And for a heartbeat—

Lucavion’s expression cracked.

Just a fraction.

Barely enough to register.

But enough.

’That wasn’t from the script,’ he thought. ’Not even the hidden ones.’

He recovered quickly, of course—mask slipping back over bone like a second skin. But that sliver of surprise had already echoed in the silence.

Selienne, of course, saw it.

And allowed herself the faintest twitch of satisfaction.

“You didn’t expect that,” she murmured. Not a question. “Not from a princess, I suppose.”

Lucavion didn’t answer. Not yet.

So she continued—her tone no longer coy, no longer testing.

Just clear.

“The performance you gave at the entrance examination was seen by every major house in the empire,” she said, voice low but resonant. “Every noble. Every guild. Every contender worth their bloodline watched it unfold in real time.”

She paused, eyes catching the faint glint of aetherlight from the projection glass.

“And I did as well.”

Those words didn’t carry admiration.

They carried confirmation.

“You did not display potential,” she said, gaze returning to him. “You displayed threat. Mastery. And control.”

A breath.

“I want that mastery aligned under my banner, not someone else’s.”

Lucavion’s fingers had stopped drumming. His body remained relaxed—but his mind was already stitching the edges of her strategy together.

’She didn’t come here to seduce. She didn’t come here to negotiate.

She came here to claim.’

And the fact that she did it so openly—so publicly, so early—

That meant she was either supremely confident…

Or already playing a deeper game.