Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

The young man froze, his black eyes widening as he locked onto the robed woman's faintly visible golden gaze. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to speak, but no words came. For a split second, he stood rooted in place, the white cat on his shoulder flicking its tail lazily, utterly unaffected by its master's reaction.

The robed man beside the woman noticed instantly. His posture stiffened, and his voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding. "Hey! Step aside!"

The shout broke the moment like shattering glass. The young man blinked rapidly, as though shaking off a daze, before his roguish smile returned as swiftly as it had vanished. He raised his hands in mock surrender, his tone light and apologetic. "Ahem, it appears I stared for too long. Pardon my manners."

With a swift, fluid motion, he stepped back, opening the way for the robed duo to pass. The white cat on his shoulder glanced at the robed woman with a lazy, unblinking stare, as though it too were curious about her. Then it turned its head away, utterly disinterested.

The robed woman said nothing, her blue eyes barely flickering toward the young man as she passed. Her companion, however, shot the young man a glare that could have frozen the sea outside. With one last deliberate step, the robed man guided the woman out of the tavern, the heavy door creaking shut behind them.

The young man remained standing near the doorway for a moment, his smile fading into something more thoughtful as he stared after them. His hand absently reached up to stroke the cat's back, and the creature let out a soft purr.

"Well, wasn't that interesting?" he muttered to himself, his voice low enough that no one else in the tavern could hear.

Then, as if flipping a switch, he turned back toward the bar, his easygoing demeanor firmly back in place. His grin widened, and he called out to the bartender as he strode across the room. "I'll take a drink! Something strong. It's been one of those days."

From their table, Lianne and her brother exchanged glances. Her brother leaned back in his chair, his gaze following the young man as he moved through the room.

"Now there's another one to watch," he murmured.

As her brother leaned back in his chair, still watching the young man at the bar, Lianne couldn't help but frown in confusion. The man seemed... ordinary enough, didn't he? Aside from the white cat perched on his shoulder and the scar trailing down his face, he didn't appear particularly remarkable.

"You said we should keep an eye on him," she began, her voice quiet but questioning. "Why? Wasn't he just… normal?"

Her brother's gaze lingered on the man a moment longer before he turned back to her with a faint smirk. "I don't have much to say about it, really. It's just a feeling I get from watching him."

"A feeling?" Lianne tilted her head, her frown deepening. "You're basing this on a feeling?"

"Yep." He shrugged, tearing off another piece of bread and popping it into his mouth. "I feel like this young man isn't normal either."

She crossed her arms, looking skeptical. "You're always the one telling me to base my assumptions on logic and observation. 'Feelings won't save you in a fight,' isn't that what you said last week?"

He chuckled at her mimicry, raising a hand in mock surrender. "I did say that. And it's still true. But every now and then, you come across someone who sets off... something. A sense that they're not what they seem. Call it intuition, if you want."

"Intuition," Lianne echoed, unconvinced. "From the man who insists intuition is unreliable."

"Don't overthink it," he said, leaning forward to pour himself another drink. "I'm just saying, he doesn't strike me as 'normal.' That's all."

"...You're impossible," she muttered, shaking her head as she glanced toward the young man at the bar again. He was laughing now, sharing some lighthearted banter with the bartender while stroking the cat on his shoulder. There was nothing overtly strange about him—aside from the odd scar and his unusual confidence.

Her brother watched her expression and chuckled. "You'll see, Lianne. Sometimes people give themselves away without realizing it. You just have to pay attention."

"And what do you think he gave away?" she pressed, still doubtful.

"Nothing yet," he admitted. "But I'd bet there's more to him than what we've seen so far. Stormhaven's not the kind of place that attracts ordinary people."

Lianne sighed, her curiosity piqued despite herself. "Fine. But if you're wrong, you owe me an explanation."

Her brother grinned, raising his mug in a mock toast. "Deal. Now, finish your drink. The docks won't wait for us tomorrow."

She rolled her eyes but sipped from her mug, her gaze still occasionally drifting back toward the young man at the bar. If her brother's instincts were right, she had a feeling their paths would cross sooner than expected.

*******

Lucavion settled onto the worn stool at the bar, his long coat draping easily around him as he tapped a gloved finger on the counter. The bartender raised an eyebrow, his scarred face breaking into a faint smirk as he approached.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

What'll it be? Ale? Or are you here for information?"

Lucavion returned the smirk, his dark eyes glinting faintly as he slid a silver coin across the counter. "Both, actually. But first, let's start with something to eat. Whatever's freshest."

The bartender scooped up the coin, tucking it into his apron pocket with practiced ease. "You've got good timing," he said. "We just got a fresh catch of seabass in. Roasted with herbs, served with bread and butter. That work for you?"

"Sounds perfect." Lucavion leaned back slightly, his posture relaxed but deliberate. He produced another silver coin, letting it spin briefly between his fingers before sliding it across the counter. "And while we're at it, why don't you tell me more about the Duke's expedition? Something more... valuable."

The bartender's smirk widened as he pocketed the second coin. "You've got a way with business, stranger. Let me see what I can do."

As the bartender busied himself shouting an order to the kitchen boy, a soft, inquisitive voice brushed against Lucavion's thoughts.

[Your reaction?] Vitaliara's tone was quiet but unmistakably curious, her presence flickering faintly beside him like a whisper of light. [Why did you react to that girl like that?]

Lucavion didn't respond immediately, his gloved fingers tracing the rim of the tankard in front of him. His gaze flicked briefly toward the door, as though replaying the moment in his mind. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, meant only for her.

"Those eyes," he said simply, his tone measured. "Not a common sight, wouldn't you say?"

Vitaliara tilted her head, her ethereal form barely visible in the faint glow of the firelight behind the bar. [That's all? Her eyes startled you? I find that hard to believe, Lucavion. You're not one to be thrown off by appearances.]

Lucavion shrugged nonchalantly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "She was just a beautiful girl," he said lightly, his tone carrying the air of someone utterly unbothered. "I was surprised, that's all."

Vitaliara's glow flickered sharply in response, her ethereal form leaning closer. [You're insufferable, Lucavion.]

Before he could respond, her paw flashed out in a quick, almost playful swipe. The faint glint of her claws caught his cheek, leaving a thin, clean cut that oozed a small bead of blood.

Lucavion froze for a moment, then let out a low chuckle, his smirk widening as he met her glowing gaze. "Why are you angry now?" he asked, his tone tinged with amusement.

Vitaliara didn't reply. Instead, she turned her head away with a pointed flick of her tail, her glowing form pulsing faintly as she gave a soft, clipped reply. [Humph.]

Lucavion raised a hand to his cheek, smearing the blood slightly with his glove before shaking his head. "No answer, huh?" His voice carried an undercurrent of amusement as he leaned back against the bar, his sharp gaze flicking briefly toward the kitchen.

The bartender reappeared, carrying a plate of roasted seabass accompanied by crusty bread and a small dish of butter. He placed it in front of Lucavion with a nod. "Here. Fresh, like I promised."

"Thanks," Lucavion said, inclining his head slightly as he picked up a piece of bread, his movements casual.

But even as he tore into the bread, his mind drifted, the lively tavern fading into the background. His smirk lingered, though it now carried a sharper edge—one born not of amusement, but of contemplation.

To think that I would meet you here, of all places... he thought, his dark eyes momentarily distant as he replayed the encounter in his mind. The faint glimmer of golden eyes beneath the robed woman's hood, the measured way she carried herself, the subtle weight of her presence. It all clicked together in his thoughts, a thread weaving into the tapestry he had known too well.

Indeed, as expected... You are still following the plot of the Novel.

The thought carried a mix of satisfaction and something quieter—something close to resignation. He'd known this moment would come, though he hadn't expected it here, in a bustling tavern in Stormhaven, amidst the noise of adventurers and the smell of salt and ale.

It has also been a while... Elara.

He had finally met with the protagonist of this world.

And the daughter of his supposed master whom he promised to protect.

"It really has been a while."