The Extra's Rise

Cecilia woke up with a quiet hum, stretching like a cat before slipping out of bed with practiced ease. Her morning routine was flawless, efficient, automatic.

She brushed her teeth methodically, the same way she did everything—without hesitation, without waste. Into the shower, washed, dried, and moving on in minutes.

Her way of getting ready was simple in execution but perfected by habit. A slight braid at the crown of her golden hair, uniform smoothed out without a single crease, ribbon adjusted just right.

People who only knew the chaotic, teasing princess of the Slatemark Empire wouldn't believe how precise her mornings were.

But then, they didn't know Cecilia Slatemark.

Not really.

In the palace, she had maids to attend to every detail, but she had long learned to do these things herself. Independence wasn't optional. If she wanted to thrive at Mythos Academy, she couldn't rely on a servant to fix her buttons or brush her hair every morning.

"Done," she exhaled, standing, ready to leave.

Then, she paused.

She turned toward the mirror, leaning in, studying her reflection with a critical eye.

Her braid was off.

Too tight on one side.

She sighed, undoing the right braid and redoing it.

Then frowned.

Now the left side felt wrong.

Her narrowed crimson eyes flicked to her reflection like a predator spotting an irritating flaw in its domain.

She undid the other braid, rebraided it.

Still off.

Undo. Redo.

This time, she didn't stop until it was perfect.

Satisfied, she finally left the room.

At the hyperloop station, students were gathered, talking, glancing at her with awe, curiosity, hesitation. Some greeted her, waving politely.

Cecilia greeted who she wanted to, ignored who she didn't.

She sat down, crossing one leg over the other, her fingers absently twirling a lock of golden hair.

A sigh left her lips.

She stared at her reflection in the window, the world outside rushing by.

"As I thought," she murmured, voice quiet enough that no one would hear.

She didn't like it.

Not the uniform. Not the braid.

Something else.

Something vaguely irritating, sitting at the edge of her thoughts, just out of reach.

She really didn't like this.

Cecilia finally reached Class 1-A, stepping into the room with the easy confidence of someone who owned the space by default. Her eyes flickered across the classroom, landing—unexpectedly—on Arthur.

He had arrived before her.

That was new.

She tilted her head, studying him with mild amusement. Arthur Nightingale was a surprise.

A toy, yes. Something she could wind up and watch with delight, something that brought her amusement. But more than that.

He had surprised her more times than she cared to admit.

Her gaze drifted. Ian was standing at Arthur's desk, talking in his usual loud, brash manner. Rachel, meanwhile, was sitting nearby, reading something on her phone. Or at least, pretending to.

Cecilia recognized the act immediately. Rachel's fingers were poised too carefully, her shoulders too still—she wasn't just reading, she was listening.

Eavesdropping.

Cecilia, of course, ignored all of them and went to her seat, rubbing her spatial ring absently, fingers tracing its cool, familiar surface.

Then, she caught a particular sentence.

"So hey, Arthur," Ian prodded, voice brimming with barely-contained mischief. "Did you really get together with Kali?"

In an instant, something flared.

A pulse of golden mana, a streak of crimson energy—brief, clashing, unintentional.

Cecilia's fingers froze against her ring.

What.

She glanced across the room. Rachel had stiffened, her expression carefully neutral, but Cecilia could see it. The slight tension in her jaw, the way her fingers hovered over her screen.

Rachel had reacted too.

Their eyes met.

They both came to the same conclusion at the same time.

"Stop being annoying!" they snapped in unison.

Ian, entirely unfazed, simply chuckled. "Weirdos." He waved them off before turning his attention back to Arthur, utterly undeterred. "Anyway, answer me."

Cecilia exhaled slowly.

Why would she care?

Why had she even reacted?

And yet—her senses sharpened, her focus tuning in on Arthur's next words before he even spoke.

"I swore nothing of that sort happened with Kali," Arthur said, his voice firm, irritated. "I'd appreciate it if your friend didn't lie to the whole Academy about it."

Ian grinned, unbothered. "She came from your room. At night."

At night?

Cecilia's fingers twitched against her ring, scratching faster.

"It was just a convenient time," Arthur replied, exhaling sharply.

"Yeah yeah, convenient time for all that," Ian said, grinning wider as he clapped a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Enemies-to-lovers type stuff!"

Arthur's glare could have burned holes through Ian's skull.

Cecilia barely noticed.

She was too aware of how fast her fingers were moving against her ring. Too aware of Rachel, who was trying—and failing—to look more focused on her phone than necessary.

Too aware of the fact that, for some reason, she was still paying attention.

He's just an interesting toy, Cecilia reminded herself.

A toy.

That was all.

And yet—

She had helped him.

When Nero asked how the points for hunting the six-star beast should be distributed, suggesting an even split between both princesses and Arthur, she had spoken up.

Why?

Because it would be amusing if Arthur came first?

Because it would make things more entertaining?

Because she liked watching him defy expectations—just to see how far he'd go before breaking?

Cecilia tapped her fingers against her desk, her nails clicking rhythmically.

And then, the question crept in.

Who was Arthur Nightingale?

A commoner? A nobody? A pawn who refused to move as expected?

She wanted to know.

No—she had to know.

Cecilia rose from her seat.

Ignoring Rachel's gaze, she walked toward Arthur.

He glanced up just as she leaned down, placing her golden plaque on his desk with deliberate ease.

"Come visit the Imperial Palace when you have time~," she purred, her voice smooth, teasing, dripping with amusement. She winked, her crimson eyes gleaming, then turned on her heel and sauntered back to her desk.

This was... all for fun.

Wasn't it?

Cecilia twirled a lock of golden hair between her fingers, her gaze drifting back to Arthur.

At the same time, she remembered his words. His desire to grow stronger.

Was this really just for fun?