The Useless Extra Knows It All....But Does He?

Luca remained rooted in the vast hall, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The polished marble gleamed under the chandelier's glow, and yet, despite being the son of this house, he felt more like a guest who had overstayed his welcome. His eyes darted across the endless corridors, each one stretching into unfamiliar territory.

…Great. Just perfect. She tells me to go to my room, but doesn't bother pointing me to where it even is. I can't exactly wander aimlessly without looking like an idiot.

As he mulled over his predicament, the steady sound of measured footsteps echoed through the hall. An old man appeared from one of the side corridors, his posture slightly bent but his bearing still sharp with dignity. His silver hair was slicked neatly back, and his uniform carried the discreet markings of a long-serving butler.

The man slowed as his gaze fell on Luca, bowing slightly. "Young master." His voice was smooth, calm, practiced from decades of service.

Luca straightened at once, masking his relief with a nonchalant air. "Ah, there you are." He let a faint smile touch his lips, raising a brow as if he had been waiting.

The butler inclined his head politely. "Did you require something, young master?"

This is my chance. Can't exactly admit I'm lost in my own home. That would be… Suspicious.

Feigning casualness, Luca folded his arms loosely, tilting his head toward the vast corridors. "It's been some time since I last returned here. I was just considering whether my room was still kept in order. You've been diligent, I trust?"

The old man blinked at the subtle weight in Luca's tone before nodding. "But of course, young master. Everything has been kept ready for your return."

"Good," Luca said smoothly, suppressing the triumphant smirk tugging at his lips. He clicked his tongue lightly as if in thought. "Then… why don't you accompany me? I'd like to inspect it myself."

The butler bowed again, unruffled. "As you wish. Please follow me."

He turned with the steady grace of someone who knew the mansion's layout like the back of his hand. Luca, maintaining his composed façade, followed closely behind. His hands rested behind his back, his steps measured—careful not to betray the sheer wave of relief washing over him.

Inside, though, his thoughts were racing. Ha! Brilliantly done, Luca. You didn't even have to ask. He thinks this was my order all along. That's what I call tact. Smooth. Smart. Not a hint of suspicion.

As they moved down the long corridor, Luca allowed himself a small, hidden smile. Mother might have left me stranded, but I handled it perfectly. Honestly, I should get an award for this level of quick thinking.

The butler's footsteps were steady against the marble, his hands folded neatly behind his back as they began to ascend the broad staircase. Sunlight filtered through the tall stained-glass windows along the landing, painting fleeting colors across Luca's face.

For a while, silence lingered between them, broken only by the quiet tap of shoes. Then, in a voice both warm and tinged with nostalgia, the old man spoke.

"Young master… you've grown a lot."

Luca blinked, glancing sideways at him. "Hm?"

The butler smiled faintly, eyes soft despite the lines of age etched into his face. "When you were a child, you carried such a bright energy with you. Charismatic… always excited, always ready to drag people along into your little adventures. The whole house felt livelier with you running about."

A small chuckle escaped him before his tone grew more subdued. "But then… as you grew, you changed. Became quieter, more timid. It was as if some of that light dimmed. I always wondered what weighed so heavily on you."

Luca's lips parted slightly, but no answer came. His chest tightened, a strange pang tugging inside him. This isn't me. It's… the Luca who lived here before I became him. I don't even know what he went through… what shaped him into the boy the butler remembers.

The old man slowed his steps, tilting his head toward Luca with a soft smile. "But just now, when I saw the way you carried yourself… the way you spoke… I caught a glimpse of that boy again. It is… reassuring."

Luca hid his confusion behind a polite nod, but inwardly his thoughts swirled. So the original Luca… wasn't always timid. Something must have happened to him. But what? Ohh that's right , it must be those visions.

Before he could ponder further, the butler raised a gloved hand toward a polished wooden door at the end of the corridor. "We've arrived, young master."

The door swung open smoothly, revealing a spacious chamber within.

The room was undeniably noble in its design—tall arched windows draped with silken curtains, their fabric shimmering faintly in the light. A grand canopy bed stood at the center, its frame carved with intricate designs of roses and vines. A writing desk sat by the window, ink and parchment neatly arranged though untouched. Shelves lined the far wall, filled with tomes whose spines gleamed from careful upkeep. A faint scent of lavender lingered, clean and soothing, as though someone had tended to the room daily despite its emptiness.

Luca stepped inside slowly. His eyes roamed across the space, his chest rising with an odd mix of emotions. Familiar… yet strange. It feels like home, but at the same time, I'm a guest stepping into someone else's memory.

His hand brushed lightly over the polished desk, a subtle warmth rising in his chest. Strange… why does it feel like I've been here all along?

The butler bowed at the threshold. "If you need anything, young master, ring the bell by the bedside. Someone will attend to you immediately."

Luca turned, offering a small nod. "Thank you."

With another graceful bow, the old man withdrew, closing the door with a soft click.

The room fell silent.

Luca exhaled deeply, his shoulders loosening at last. He turned a slow circle, letting his eyes sweep over everything once more, before his steps carried him toward the adjoining bath chamber.

The bathroom was no less elegant—white marble walls veined with silver, crystal fixtures glinting faintly, and a deep tub filled with water that shimmered coolly. Luca dipped his hand into the basin, then submerged himself beneath the cold stream cascading from the spout.

Haaah… The chill slid down his skin, clearing the heaviness from his chest. Droplets traced down his jaw, his breath steadying as the water washed away fatigue, dust, and stray thoughts.

By the time he stepped out, his hair damp and clinging to his forehead, he felt lighter.

Returning to the bedroom, Luca drew a small wave of his hand over the silver ring at his finger. In an instant, his belongings spilled gently onto the bed—folded clothes, weapons, small trinkets, a few rolled parchments.

He stood there, scanning through them with mild satisfaction, until his brow furrowed. A strange emptiness nagged at him.

"…I seem to have forgotten something."

His gaze swept over the items once more, his voice dropping into a quiet murmur.

"That's right. Where's the brooch… the one Professor Emeron gave me?"

His eyes narrowed, unease stirring in his chest. He searched through the belongings again, more carefully this time, but the item was nowhere in sight.

"I always kept it with me," he muttered, frown deepening. "To remind myself not to stray away. But… I haven't seen it these past days…"

He stood frozen for a long moment, the weight of that realization pressing down on him, before his hand clenched slowly into a fist.

Luca stared at the scattered belongings for a moment longer, his mind still circling around the missing brooch. Maybe… I left it back at the academy? The thought clung to him, heavy with unease, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

He sighed, rubbing his damp hair with a towel, then tossed it aside. Without even bothering to dress, he let himself collapse backward onto the bed.

"Ahhh… so comfortable…" he muttered, his voice muffled by the pillow. The tension melted from his body almost instantly. His eyelids grew unbearably heavy, the exhaustion of their overnight journey dragging him into unconsciousness before he could resist.

Darkness.

Then—fragmented flashes.

#%@$^&%# &#%*^ —static, voices breaking like shattered glass.

A child's laughter, bright and unrestrained, echoed faintly. A boy—dark-haired, eyes lit with unending excitement—ran through corridors of light, barefoot, arms flailing in joy. The world around him shimmered, unreal, slipping in and out of focus like half-remembered paintings.

The child turned—Luca recognized that face. Me…?

The scene fractured.

Smoke.

The stench of blood.

Ash drifted across a field littered with corpses. The clang of weapons was gone; only silence remained.

Luca stood there—no longer a child. His body was clad in jagged black armor, scorched and cracked, blood seeping through the gaps. Each breath was ragged, labored, heavy with despair.

Ahead, against a shattered boulder, Eric sat slumped. His spear was broken, his lips pale, his chest rising in shallow breaths.

Couugh! Blood spattered from his mouth, dark against the stone.

"E-Eric…?" Luca's voice trembled. His boots squelched against the blood-soaked earth as he staggered forward.

But his gaze caught—frozen.

Not far beyond, a woman lay in a pool of crimson. Her golden hair, once radiant, was matted and stained dark red, fanning lifelessly across the dirt.

Luca's heart stopped.

His pupils shrank, breath ripping from his throat as his voice cracked with terror.

"Y-Your Majesty?!!!"

The battlefield's silence roared louder than any scream.