The Extra's Rise

"Are you not surprised?" Cecilia asked as we moved across the floor, the grand hall’s lights casting a soft glow over us.

"No," I said simply, leading her in a smooth turn.

She had chosen me, as I knew she would. It was obvious, really.

Cecilia studied me, her crimson eyes gleaming with mischief. "Your acting is really good, you know," she mused. "If I wasn’t as good at reading people as I am, I’d never be able to tell what’s really going on in that head of yours."

I twirled her, the hem of her gown sweeping the polished floor like a crimson wave. Her smile never faltered.

When I first arrived in this world, I had been careful with Cecilia. Not because she was an enemy—no, she was always meant to be a major character on the side of good—but because of how she operated.

Cecilia Slatemark crushed people. Not out of malice, but because it was fun for her. She enjoyed the game, the power, the way people struggled under her influence. She was a princess, after all. That meant she had the leverage to get whatever she wanted, and most people never dared to defy her.

And if they did?

She crushed them harder.

Back then, I couldn’t afford to stand against her outright. Intelligence and knowledge meant nothing in the face of sheer, overwhelming power. Knowing the future only got you so far when someone like Cecilia could dictate yours with a single command.

So I played along. I manoeuvred carefully, dodging her traps, using Rachel whenever possible to keep myself from being cornered. I played into her whims just enough to stay afloat, but never enough to drown.

But now?

Now, I didn’t need to do that.

I led her into a sweeping dip, her blonde hair cascading down, her teasing smirk never wavering.

"I want your eyes only on me, Arthur," she whispered, the weight of her words pressing into the space between us. "Not just for tonight, but always. Look at me, only me."

She pulled herself closer, her breath warm against my neck.

"Forget the rest of the world," she murmured, her voice barely louder than the whisper of music weaving through the air. "Just this once."

And for a moment, I did.

The weight of expectation, of battle, of everything beyond this dimly lit ballroom—none of it mattered. Not when Cecilia stood so close, the scent of something soft and elusive lingering in the space between us. Not when her hand rested lightly against mine, her fingers cool, yet firm, as if holding onto something fragile.

I didn’t resist. There was no need to.

Because in the end, Cecilia had never tried to hurt me.

Thus, this—whatever this was—was okay.

Her eyes gleamed with something unreadable, something almost hesitant, yet she smiled. Not the teasing smirk she always wore when she toyed with others, nor the sharp glint of mischief she so often directed at me. This smile was quieter, something softer beneath the layers of arrogance and power.

"Arthur," she said, voice steady despite the way her grip tightened, "I’m glad you’re coming to the Tower of Magic."

A pause.

"I… want to spend time with you."

It was strange, how easily she could unsettle me—not with her usual antics, but with sincerity.

This chapter is updat𝓮d by freēnovelkiss.com.

I exhaled, letting my hand settle properly against hers. "I thought you were the one always running off and doing your own thing."

"That’s different." She tilted her head, a lock of golden hair slipping over her shoulder as we moved together in a slow turn. "That’s for fun. This is…" She hesitated. "This is something I actually want."

The music swelled around us, each note measured and deliberate, echoing the unspoken tension in the space between us.

We moved in sync, her leading sometimes, me leading others, but neither ever truly taking control. It was like a negotiation in motion, each step testing the limits of the other, seeing how much the other would yield.

For all her wit and charm, Cecilia was a warrior in spirit. A schemer. A tactician. She didn’t submit, not truly.

And yet, she trusted me enough to match my pace.

I let my grip on her waist tighten just slightly, guiding her through a turn. Her breath hitched almost imperceptibly before she caught herself, her smirk returning in full force.

"I see you’ve been practicing," she mused, twirling back into my arms with a grace that made it look effortless. "Trying to impress someone?"

"Just keeping up with you," I replied evenly.

"You flatter me, Arthur," she purred, but there was an edge of real amusement in her tone.

The song reached its final measures, the last few notes lingering as I slowed our movements. Her fingers curled slightly against my palm, lingering in the moment as the last echoes of the music faded into silence.

The world settled around us again, heavier than before.

Cecilia sighed, her gaze flickering downward for the briefest moment before she met my eyes again.

"I meant what I said," she murmured, her voice losing its teasing lilt. "I’ll never hurt you, Arthur."

I blinked. "I know that."

"No," she said firmly. "Not just that. I won’t let anyone else hurt you, either."

Something flickered across her expression, something dangerous and unwavering.

"If they try," she said, voice dropping to something softer, darker, "I’ll crush them."

I stared at her for a long moment, unsure whether to take her words as a joke or a declaration.

But when I looked into her eyes, I realized—she wasn’t joking.

Cecilia twirled out of my grasp, her scarlet dress catching the light in a shimmer of silk and magic. The moment she released my hands, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Dancing with Cecilia was like balancing on the edge of a blade—thrilling, dangerous, and requiring absolute focus.

I watched as she sauntered off with a smirk, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and satisfaction. It was hard to tell if she’d been enjoying herself or simply enjoying my discomfort. Maybe both.

’She’s terrifying,’ I thought, rolling my shoulders to shake off the tension. ’But… it’s nice to have her at my side.’

The music shifted, flowing into a softer melody, and before I could even take another breath, a warm, delicate hand slid into mine.

Rachel.

She looked radiant under the festival lights, her golden hair woven into an intricate braid, sapphire eyes shimmering with something I couldn’t quite name. Unlike Cecilia, who danced as if she were leading a battle campaign, Rachel moved with effortless grace, a natural rhythm that made me feel like I belonged in the moment rather than fighting to keep up.

"You seem relieved," she teased, her lips curling into a playful smile.

"Dancing with Cecilia is like trying to navigate a battlefield," I admitted, letting her guide me through the first steps.

Rachel laughed, the sound light and melodic. "She is a battlefield, you mean."

I huffed a quiet chuckle, letting her spin under my arm before catching her waist again. "You’re a much better partner."

"Oh?" She raised a brow. "You mean I don’t make you feel like you’re about to die?"

"That too."

She laughed again, but this time there was something softer beneath it, something warm. We moved together, the dance easy, effortless—like breathing.

I caught the way her gaze flickered across my face, like she wanted to say something but thought better of it. Instead, she just held on a little tighter as the music slowed, the last few steps dragging out longer than necessary.

"Thank you for this," she whispered.

And then, just like that, the song ended, and she stepped away.

I barely had time to process the shift before another hand reached for mine, smaller, cooler—like a whisper of frost against my skin.

Seraphina.

She looked up at me, expression unreadable as always, but there was a quiet softness to her silver eyes, something calmer than the usual stoicism she carried. Her dress was a shade of blue so pale it was almost white, flowing like mist with every movement.

"You don’t like crowds," I murmured as I took her hand.

"No," she admitted, allowing me to lead. "But I don’t dislike this."

That was as close to a compliment as I’d ever get from Seraphina.

She moved with precision, each step calculated and controlled, as if she were performing a sword form rather than a dance. There was an elegance to it, an underlying strength hidden in the fluidity of her movements.

"You’re tense," I noted, guiding her through a slow turn.

She blinked, looking almost startled before lowering her gaze. "I… don’t do this often."

"Dancing?"

"Being close to people."

I didn’t press her on it. Instead, I just adjusted our pace, making it easier for her to follow, letting her settle into the rhythm at her own pace.

After a few moments, she exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing. And for the first time that night, she moved with me instead of merely beside me.

The song ended, and she hesitated for just a second before stepping away. "Thank you," she murmured.

I gave her a small nod, watching as she retreated into the crowd.

One left.

I turned just in time for Rose to step forward, her usual gentle smile in place. Unlike the others, she didn’t wait for me to extend a hand—she simply took it, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"You look exhausted," she said, eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Cecilia happened," I sighed.

"That explains it."

Rose’s dance was different from all the others. She didn’t move with the precision of Seraphina or the confidence of Rachel. She simply flowed, like a quiet river, moving to the music in a way that felt entirely effortless.

"You’re good at this," I noted.

"Mm. I grew up in a noble house, remember?" She smiled, though there was something distant in her eyes. "Lots of banquets. Lots of dancing. It’s expected."

The way she said it—like it was more obligation than enjoyment—made me frown slightly.

"Do you like it?"

She blinked, surprised by the question, then let out a soft chuckle. "With the right person, maybe."

I didn’t know what to say to that. So I didn’t say anything at all.

We just moved together, the dance slow and steady, a quiet rhythm that didn’t demand anything beyond the moment itself.

And then the music stopped.

Rose stepped back, looking at me for just a second longer than necessary before letting go.

"Thanks for the dance, Arthur."

And then, like the others, she was gone.

I exhaled.

The festival continued around me, the energy of the crowd buzzing with celebration, but for a moment, I just stood there, feeling the warmth of the past dances lingering like echoes.

This world, this life—it wasn’t what I had expected.

But maybe, just maybe, it was better.

Right, Emma?