Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

That lie—"I didn't mean to react like that."—still lingered somewhere behind Lucavion's eyes.

And yet, it wasn't the lie that stayed with him.

It was the Vitality behind it.

Everything she did in those moments was intentional. And more importantly, emotional. Not in the dramatic sense—no tears, no trembling voice—but in the way her very being rattled when she saw him.

And that reaction?

It only made one thing make sense.

"She knew me," Lucavion murmured under his breath, barely audible even to himself. "No stranger looks at you like that."

Unless…

Unless they were remembering something you forgot.

Or something they couldn't.

Still, there was a flicker of hesitation in his thoughts. Because if it was Elara…

If Elowyn Caerlin was Elara Lorian—then why the confusion?

Why that contradiction?

Because—when she slapped him, her Vitality spiked. The hatred, the grief, the heat of it all—it flooded the surface.

But later…

When he extended his hand…

When he said, "I suppose we are no longer strangers," with that trademark smirk...

She had looked at him, measured him, and answered—

"I guess so."

And in that moment?

Her Vitality didn't rage.

Didn't flare.

Didn't twitch in resistance.

It was… steady.

Quiet.

Open.

Not like a weapon.

Not like a girl who'd sworn to see him bleed.

But like someone who, even for just a moment, wanted to mean it.

That was the part that didn't make sense.

Because if it was Elara… she wouldn't feel that.

She wouldn't even pretend to.

She had every reason to hate him. Had looked at him in that dungeon, back in Stormhaven, with eyes like frozen knives. He remembered that moment with disturbing clarity—the way her gaze clung to him as Alistair led him away.

Those icy blue eyes—sharpened by silence, glassed by betrayal.

Back then, she didn't speak. She didn't have to.

Everything she wanted to say had already etched itself in the way she didn't look away.

He shivered, despite himself.

And yet… tonight, those weren't the eyes that stared at him.

Tonight… they were hazel. Rich, flecked with gold. But the emotion—the weight behind them—it felt too similar.

'It's a bit hard to forget that,' he thought, glancing up at the moonlight spilling through the trellis. Cool silver on the marble. Ghostlike.

He shook his head once, jaw tightening.

"Little stranger," he muttered, voice low and almost fond. But not soft. Never soft. "What are you?"

Vitaliara stirred on his shoulder but said nothing. She didn't need to. She was watching his thoughts spiral on their own, with no need to interfere.

Because this was the part Lucavion couldn't ignore.

That girl's Vitality—it was harder to read than anyone he'd encountered. Not because it was blocked, but because it was layered. Complex.

When they spoke, when she challenged him—

"If the first thing that comes to your mind when someone looks at you is that they're calculating where to stab…"

Her voice hadn't cracked.

"Then you must not be a very good person."

And the worst part?

He couldn't retort.

Because her words hit a little too close.

And she meant them.

But not with cruelty.

With understanding.

That's what made it worse. That she saw something and named it—not to wound, but to expose.

And yet…

There had been no spike in her Vitality then.

Only stillness.

Only a girl looking at a boy—not with fury, not with fear—but as if she was still deciding which version of him she believed.

He stepped away from the railing now, gaze still fixed toward nothing.

There had been no spike in her Vitality then.

No lashing, no flinch, no cold snap of loathing waiting behind her tongue.

Just—

Warmth.

Not obvious. Not glowing. But the kind of warmth you found in places you didn't expect. Quiet. Uncertain. Maybe even welcoming.

And that—that—was what unsettled Lucavion most.

Because Elara Lorian would never look at him like that.

Not in this world. Not in any version of it.

Not after what happened in Stormhaven. Not after the betrayal. Not after watching him be led away in chains, leaving her behind in that blood-soaked hall, surrounded by dead brothers and stolen futures.

No… Elara would never offer him that kind of warmth.

And yet… this girl had.

Not out of weakness.

But recognition. Loneliness. Maybe even curiosity.

That's what made it all the harder to accept.

He scoffed under his breath.

"…There's no way it's her," he said finally, voice clipped. "It can't be."

Not with the way she answered him. Not with how her Vitality softened when she could've stabbed, but didn't.

He let out a breath and turned from the balcony, gaze falling to the path ahead—the corridor that led back into the academy halls, where polished stone and shadow met in perfect symmetry.

'And yet…'

He didn't finish the thought.

Because it didn't matter.

Not right now.

If she was Elara… she'd reveal herself.

And if she wasn't… well, that would come to light too.

Slowly, inevitably.

Truths in this world didn't stay buried forever. Not here. Not in a place like this.

Not with him watching.

"Whatever," he muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching into a crooked sneer as he started walking, his footsteps almost silent against the marble.

"Little stranger…" he said again, lower this time. "You'll show me who you are. One way or another."

Lucavion's steps echoed softly, measured, as he slipped back into the corridor's hush—moonlight trailing at his heels like a second, quieter shadow. The marble stretched on ahead, still and waiting, but the thoughts in his mind were still unraveling themselves in ribbons of doubt and memory.

And then—

[Did you finish your one-man theatre in your head now?]

Vitaliara's voice rang with that unmistakable blend of teasing and exasperation, her tone a dry breeze against his overworked thoughts.

Lucavion let out a slow breath… then smiled.

The real kind.

Not smug. Not weaponized. Just—honest. For a moment.

"I did."

[Good.]

She didn't sound impressed. And from the narrowing of her slitted eyes, she wasn't. Not even a little. Her tail gave a lazy swish over his shoulder, but the movement was more pointed than casual. She could tell he was hiding something. Again.

Lucavion didn't elaborate. Not yet.

Because while she hadn't said it, he knew what she wanted to ask.

Who was that girl?

And more importantly—what was it about her that kept gnawing at his attention?

But Vitaliara didn't push. Not directly. She watched him. Waited.

Which was precisely why he kept it to himself.

He'd tell her—if it became necessary. But if this was Elara… if that was truly who stood beneath the name and illusion of Elowyn Caerlin—then even Vitaliara didn't need to know yet.

Not until he was certain.

Until then, it would be his card to hold.

A quiet secret among the dozen others.

Still, Vitaliara wasn't thrilled by his silence.

Her voice returned with a soft huff—half amused, half sulking.

[You're hiding something again.]

"I'm a man of secrets," Lucavion said smoothly, a glint back in his eye as he slowed his pace.

[A man of secrets?]

She sniffed.

[You're an insufferable charlatan.]

He let out a short laugh. "A nice diagnosis."

[Oh, please. You should come with a warning label.]

"I do," he said, sweeping a hand theatrically across his chest. "It's just very well hidden beneath all the charm."

She grumbled something under her breath that sounded like "overgrown peacock."

Lucavion's smile widened.

But beneath it all, beneath the banter and practiced carelessness, one thing remained untouched. Quiet. Lodged in his thoughts like a splinter he didn't quite want to pull out yet.

If it is her… then what does that mean for me?

He said nothing.

And Vitaliara—sharp as ever—didn't ask.

Not this time.