The Extra's Reincarnation

The Dorn family was one of the wealthiest noble houses in the Aurean Kingdom, with connections that stretched across multiple territories.

They weren't royalty, but their influence was undeniable.

Being the eldest son, Marcel had been groomed since birth to believe the world existed for his pleasure alone.

His magical affinity was genuinely impressive, boasting a rare dual element of water and earth, which provided him with versatility in most combat scenarios.

In another story, with another personality, he might have been a hero. But Marcel's talents had only ever served to reinforce his worst traits.

I remembered how the novel portrayed him: tall and handsome, with carefully styled red hair and eyes that seemed to draw people in.

He carried himself with the easy confidence of someone who had never been denied anything in his life.

Girls swooned over him, teachers overlooked his transgressions, and fellow students either feared or admired him.

His network of followers wasn't built on respect but on a complicated web of favors, blackmail, and the promise of protection.

The second-years who did his bidding were either in his debt or too afraid to refuse him.

The way he operated was almost artistic in its cruelty. He would identify a target—usually someone beautiful but vulnerable—and begin a careful campaign of isolation and control.

With Elenore, the pattern was already established in the novel. He would start with public displays of interest, making sure everyone knew she was "his."

Then would come the gifts, the special attention and the apparent devotion.

But behind closed doors, he'd slowly cut her off from friends, monitor her movements, and establish rules she had to follow.

It was textbook manipulation, made all the more effective by his charm and status.

What made Marcel particularly dangerous wasn't just his behavior, but how the academy's structure protected him.

His family donated generously to Aethel Academy each year.

Professors who might have reported him feared retribution from the administration or, worse, from the Dorn family directly.

Students who witnessed his behavior stayed silent out of self-preservation.

In the original story, Kaelen noticed the pattern and intervened, but not before Elenore suffered significant trauma.

The confrontation that followed became one of the pivotal moments that established Kaelen as a protagonist worth following.

"But what if I could minimize the damage?" I mused, tapping my fingers against my leg.

Not by taking Kaelen's place, but by ensuring Elenore doesn't suffer as much before he steps in?

The system had been clear about the bonus SP for direct intervention, but it had also warned about penalties for disrupting the timeline too severely.

It was a tightrope walk—influence without domination, guidance without revelation.

Knock…Knock…Knock

I frowned, glancing toward the door. Rean and Tylo had only left minutes ago, and they wouldn't knock on their own room.

Besides, they'd mentioned staying at the dining hall for at least an hour.

"Perhaps another first-year looking to meet the mysterious special admission student," Vykekard suggested from the bedside table.

"Great," I muttered, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.

The knocking came again, more insistent this time.

"Coming," I called, moving toward the door with reluctance dragging at each step.

When I pulled the door open, the words of dismissal I'd prepared died in my throat.

Standing in the hallway, her crimson eyes meeting mine with unnerving directness, was Principal Kiera Nyx herself.

"Ah…"

My heart stuttered to a halt before racing forward at double speed.

What could possibly warrant a visit from the principal herself on the first day?

Had I already been found out?

"Good evening, Julian… May I come in?"

I stood frozen, my mind cycling through every possible infraction I might have committed since arriving. Nothing seemed severe enough to call for the principal.

"I—of course, Principal Nyx," I managed, stepping aside to let her enter.

She glided into the room with effortless grace, her academy robes flowing behind her like liquid midnight. I cast a desperate glance around the room, suddenly aware of how ordinary it must look to someone of her stature.

"Your roommates?" she inquired, her gaze sweeping over the empty beds.

"Dining hall," I replied, my voice sounding unnaturally tight even to my own ears. "They won't be back for at least an hour."

"Perfect," she said with a smile that did nothing to ease my growing apprehension. "I was hoping we might speak privately."

I gestured toward Tylo's desk chair, the only suitable seat for a visitor of her standing.

She settled into it with the same fluid grace that characterized her every movement, while I perched awkwardly on the edge of my bed.

"…."

"…."

It was quiet for the two of us alone and I couldn't help but notice how the principal's crimson eyes seemed to catch every flicker of light in the room, giving them an almost otherworldly glow.

Her posture was perfect—noble, yet not stiff—as though she'd mastered the art of appearing both approachable and authoritative simultaneously.

"I wanted to personally apologize… The way your examination was handled was... less than ideal."

I blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected topic.

"My examination?"

She nodded, a hint of genuine regret crossing her features.

"You were unfairly treated compared to others of similar status. The theoretical exam you took showed remarkable insight, and you should have been given the opportunity to complete the practical portions as well."

"It's fine,"

I said automatically, still trying to process why the principal of Aethel Academy would come to my dormitory just to apologize for an administrative error.

"I'm here now, so it all worked out."

Her lips curved into a smile to show her relief, but I couldn't help but think something was off.

"Yes, but the principle of the matter bothers me. You see, Julian, I take great care to ensure that every student at Aethel Academy receives equal treatment regardless of their background. When I discovered that a commoner with your potential had been dismissed without proper consideration, I was... displeased."

"Really, Principal Nyx, I understand. These things happen in large institutions."

I tried to sound casual, but I was getting more nervous by the second. I could see that there was something within her eyes that was telling me to get away from her.

She tilted her head slightly and looked at me with an odd expression.

"You're very forgiving, Julian. That's an admirable quality."

"Thank you. Is... is that all you wanted to discuss?"

A beat of silence followed my question, during which I could swear the temperature in the room dropped several degrees.

"No," she finally admitted, and something in her tone made me sit up straighter.

"There's something else I've been meaning to ask you about."

"What would that be?"

"The hidden barrier you broke 10 years ago."

My blood ran cold at her words.

Of all the things she could have brought up, this was perhaps the most dangerous. That day had been a turning point in my understanding of my own abilities.

"I'm not sure what you mean. A barrier ten years ago?"

"There's no need to pretend, Julian. I was there, after all."

Her voice remained soft, almost gentle, creating a jarring contrast with the threatening undercurrent in her words.

"I saw a five-year-old boy do what generations of mages had failed to accomplish. That was to shatter a barrier crafted by Ziverard Zagata himself. Those runes along the barrier stood longer for more than thousands of years, yet of all people it was a commoner from Nefta Village."

I swallowed hard, fighting the instinct to flee.

"Principal Nyx, I think there must be some mistake. I don't recall—"

"The memory might be hazy for you,"

she interrupted smoothly, then leaned forward slightly.

"Do you know what that means, Julian? Do you understand the significance of what you did that day?"

"I don't really know…"

"Haah… It's fine honestly, you'll find out in due time."

Her gaze drifted toward my window, where the evening sky had deepened to indigo.

"I debated whether to mention it at all. After all, you've clearly gone to great lengths to appear... ordinary. But I couldn't help but wonder—was it Franz Evera or you who truly deserved to lead this year's representatives?"

"Franz is the obvious choice,"

"His abilities are unmatched."

"Are they?" she mused, her tone making it clear she knew otherwise. "Or is he simply less careful about hiding his talents?"

I felt trapped in a conversation where every word could reveal too much. Kiera's crimson eyes seemed to see through every defense, every carefully constructed wall I'd built around my true nature.

"What do you want from me?"

I asked, my voice steadier than I expected given how my heart was hammering against my ribcage.

-Julian, be careful. She's preparing something. Her mana is shifting...

Vykekard's voice slipped into my mind like a cool whisper, undetectable to anyone else in the room. I kept my expression neutral, not wanting to betray that I'd received any warning at all.

"I want to understand," she said simply.

"That barrier was created by one of the greatest mages in history. Numerous scholars and powerful practitioners had attempted to analyze it, modify it, even just to understand its composition. None succeeded."

"And yet there you were, a five-year-old boy with no formal training, no magical lineage of note. You placed your hand against those runes, and they simply... yielded to you."

She leaned forward, and the distance between us seemed to both expand and contract simultaneously.

I felt a pressure building behind my eyes, subtle but insistent.

"I want to go back to that day, Julian. I want to see again what I glimpsed in your eyes in that moment."

-Julian, move! NOW!