The Extra's Rise

After my date with Rose ended, we both returned to the Tower, the quiet hum of mana-infused corridors welcoming us back like a familiar melody.

I had expected to feel a sense of uncertainty, maybe even guilt, but instead, there was only clarity.

This was the right choice.

The date had been more than just an outing—it had been confirmation. A way to make sure of my own feelings, to solidify the nebulous emotions that had been lingering between us. And now, I knew for certain.

I liked Rose.

Just as I liked the other three girls.

After a brief dinner, I retired to my room. I hadn't seen Cecilia since earlier in the afternoon—Archmage Charlotte had been putting her through some kind of advanced training, forcing her to cast spells without relying on her Gift. Knowing Charlotte, it was likely an exercise in sheer magical brutality, the kind that left even prodigies like Cecilia mentally drained by the end of the day.

With that thought, I stretched, ready to collapse into bed.

Then, just as I pulled the blanket back, a knock echoed against my door.

I froze.

A sense of déjà vu washed over me.

Slowly, I walked to the door, already half-expecting what I would find when I opened it.

And sure enough—

There stood Cecilia, bathed in the soft glow of the hallway's ambient lighting. She was wearing a nightgown that looked far too luxurious to be considered sleepwear, its fabric shimmering subtly with enchanted threads. Her usually meticulously tied golden braid had escaped its confines, loose and cascading over her shoulders in soft, unruly waves.

I stared at her.

She stared back.

There was an intensity in her crimson eyes, something unreadable simmering beneath the surface.

"Arthur," she said, voice quiet, but laced with something sharp.

"Yes?" I replied, instinctively cautious.

Without waiting for an invitation, she stepped inside, brushing past me with the air of someone who had already decided exactly how this conversation would unfold. Then she turned, her expression shifting as though a secret had just taken shape between us.

"You… kissed Rose today, didn't you?"

I stiffened.

Well.

That escalated quickly.

Her gaze bore into me, unblinking, expectant. For a fleeting second, I considered lying—then immediately dismissed the thought. There was no point. Cecilia wasn't the type to ask a question unless she already knew the answer.

So I nodded.

Cecilia trembled.

Then, before I could react, I found myself pinned to the bed.

My brain short-circuited.

One moment, I had been standing. The next, Cecilia had moved, and I hadn't even registered it. There had been no hostility, no intent to harm—just pure, unfiltered possessiveness.

She straddled me, hands planted on my chest, her nightgown slipping slightly off one shoulder.

"It's not fair," she whispered, voice trembling, not with anger but with something far more dangerous. "I found you first."

Her fingers curled slightly into the fabric of my shirt.

"You are mine."

I swallowed.

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Ah.

So this was happening.

A childish kind of possessiveness, except there was nothing childish about the way her body radiated warmth against mine, or the way her crimson eyes burned with something perilously close to desperation.

Cecilia had always been playful, flirtatious even, but this—this was different.

It wasn't just teasing.

It was real.

And real was dangerous.

"Cecilia," I started carefully, my hands hovering near her waist, unsure whether I should push her off or let her do… whatever this was.

She leaned in, her breath warm against my neck.

"I don't care," she murmured, half to herself. "Even if you like the others, even if you kiss them… I won't lose to them."

Her fingers trailed up, ghosting over my collarbone.

I fought the urge to shiver.

She was too close.

And yet, she wasn't doing anything more than testing.

Testing me.

Testing us.

The silence stretched, thick with tension.

I exhaled, steadying my thoughts, pushing down the sudden, overwhelming urge to do something reckless.

"Cecilia," I said again, softer this time.

She didn't move.

I reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her breath hitched.

"You're not going to lose," I told her.

Her eyes widened slightly, just for a moment, before she schooled her features back into that haughty, teasing expression.

"Hmph," she huffed, pulling away ever so slightly. "Good answer."

Then, just as quickly as she had pinned me, she rolled off, settling beside me on the bed with the ease of someone who absolutely refused to acknowledge what had just happened.

I exhaled slowly.

"You're really something else, you know that?" I muttered, rubbing my temple.

Cecilia just smirked.

"And you," she said, propping herself up on one elbow, "should get used to it."

I had a feeling she wasn't just talking about tonight.

I sighed, staring up at the ceiling.

Princesses, man.

After a beat of silence, Cecilia's tone softened further. "I like you so much, you know," she murmured, pressing a hand over her chest as though trying to contain the tumult of feelings threatening to burst forth. "It feels like my heart might actually explode if I don't have you." Her voice, stripped of its usual teasing bravado, was raw and unfiltered—honesty laid bare.

I looked at her, knowing I couldn't lie. "I like you too," I said, my voice steady, though every word carried the weight of what I truly felt. For a long moment, we just looked at each other, the only sound the faint hum of the Tower's energy coursing around us.

Cecilia's fingers twitched against the soft fabric of her nightgown, and her eyes flickered with a myriad of emotions too quick to label. Then, with a slow, deliberate breath, she exhaled, regaining some of the composure she usually wore like a second skin.

"But you also like them," she muttered, almost to herself—her lips pursing as if she had just been handed a bitter potion and was undecided whether to swallow it or fling it aside.

"I do," I admitted honestly.

She groaned, a sound that was both exasperated and almost amused, and flopped backward onto the bed as if the very idea of sharing was an affront to her delicate sensibilities.

"Why them?" she whined dramatically, flailing an arm toward the ceiling as if to shake off the notion. "Why couldn't you just be a normal guy and devote yourself entirely to me?"

I chuckled softly. "I don't think anything about me has been normal since the day I set foot in Mythos Academy." I raised an eyebrow, teasing her back. "You fell for me too, remember?"

Cecilia clicked her tongue, narrowing her eyes. "Yes, but I found you first," she huffed, poking my chest with playful insistence. "That should mean something!"

I grinned, catching her hand before she could continue her assault of affectionate mockery. "It does mean something." She blinked, and for a split second, the sharpness in her eyes softened into something tender. "Hmph. You're just saying that so I don't set your bed on fire," she teased, though her tone held a hint of vulnerability.

I laughed. "No, I'm saying it because it's true." We both paused, the air heavy with unspoken feelings and mutual understanding.

Cecilia stared at me for a long moment, her expression caught between lingering suspicion and an overwhelming urge to believe me. Then, slowly, she sighed, collapsing against my side with the weight of reluctant acceptance. "Fine," she grumbled into my shoulder. "Fine. You can like them. But you better like me most."

I smiled and wrapped an arm around her, leaning into the intimacy of the moment. "You do realize that's not how it works, right?" I murmured.

She scoffed lightly. "Then I'll just make it work." I was about to reply when suddenly the shrill alarm tore through the serene silence of the room.

A high-pitched, piercing sound echoed down the corridor, shattering our tender moment. The sudden intrusion jolted us both—Cecilia's eyes snapped open, and I instinctively pulled away, my heart pounding.