The Extra is a Genius!? - Chapter 431

Chapter 431: Chapter 431: Return to the Imperial Academy of Valor
The hall was calm at this hour — no urgency, no formal procession. Just a handful of attendants preparing two light carriages, the kind used for short trips within the capital. Mana lanterns hummed quietly along the frames, soft enough to blend with the gentle morning breeze drifting in through the open arches.

Seraphina waited beside the first carriage, wearing a simple noble traveling coat — pale rose with silver trim. Nothing heavy, nothing ceremonial. Dior stood next to her, dressed similarly in a fitted dark coat without crests, hands in his pockets, looking like he’d barely woken up but refusing to show it.

When Noel and Charlotte approached, Seraphina turned, her posture relaxed.

“Your carriage is the second one,” she said. “Since it’s a short ride, we’ll arrive almost together. Dior and I will go ahead to review the academy entrance first.”

Charlotte nodded. “Of course.”

Dior’s eyes flicked to Noel, squinting as if something didn’t sit right with him. “Try not to fall asleep and miss your stop,” he said bluntly.

Noel frowned. “…Why would I miss it?”

“No reason,” Dior muttered, clearly annoyed at something only he understood.

Charlotte snorted quietly, covering her mouth.

Seraphina stepped into her carriage, pausing only to add, “Security is still heightened after the last incidents. Stay close when we disembark.”

“Got it,” Noel replied.

Dior followed her inside, the door closing with a soft click.

A guard gestured to the second carriage. “Sir Thorne, Lady Charlotte — whenever you’re ready.”

Noel offered Charlotte his hand. She accepted it with a small smile, stepping up gracefully.

Inside, the carriage was warm and modest, cushioned seats lining each wall. Their coats brushed lightly as they sat side by side.

With a soft jolt, the wheels began moving.

Charlotte rested her shoulder against him, voice barely above a breath.

“Feels strange going back,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” Noel said, letting his gaze drift out the window as the streets of Valon appeared — familiar buildings, morning vendors setting up, students already walking toward the academy. “Twenty minutes isn’t much… but it feels longer after everything.”

Charlotte’s fingers brushed his gently. “Just us again for a little while.”

He smiled faintly, leaning closer. “Yeah. Just us.”

The carriages rolled smoothly through the streets, cutting across the noble district and approaching the eastern side of Valon where the academy stood — tall white stone towers wrapped in green vines and shimmering mana lines. Even from a distance, the place felt alive, humming with the familiar energy of students returning for the new semester.

Their carriage slowed as they approached the main gate.

Noel leaned forward slightly, watching the crowds. “Looks like half the academy already came back.”

Charlotte nodded, her expression softening as she spotted familiar robes and uniforms. “It feels… normal again. Or at least closer to it.”

“Normal is overrated,” Noel said dryly.

She elbowed him lightly. “You say that after everything? I’d kill for normal.”

Noel snorted. “Yeah. You and me both.”

As the carriage rolled through the academy gates, the guards snapped to attention.

A few students paused to look as they passed — but this time, their attention wasn’t on Noel.

It was on Charlotte.

Whispers spread quickly across the courtyard as more faces recognized the pink hair, the white cloak, the unmistakable light around her.

Charlotte, the Saint of this generation.

Charlotte, without the Sancta Veil hiding her identity.

Charlotte noticed — of course she did. Her shoulders tensed for a moment, then she exhaled softly.

Noel stepped a little closer. “They’re staring at you,” he murmured.

Charlotte gave a small, awkward smile. “I’m aware.”

“It’s because you’re not wearing the Sancta Veil,” Noel said. “Pretty sure half of them are shocked on why the Saint is in the academy.”

She looked forward again, calm but thoughtful. “I suppose it was time,” she said quietly. “To stop pretending.”

Noel smirked. “Get ready. You’re about to gain a lot of fans.”

Charlotte turned to him with a raised brow. “Why? Afraid they’ll steal me away?”

He didn’t hesitate even a second.

“No. Not even a little.”

Charlotte blinked, then smiled — genuinely, softly, the tension fading from her expression. “Confident, aren’t you?”

“Extremely,” Noel replied with a tiny shrug. “I’m me.”

She shook her head, laughing under her breath. “You really are impossible.”

“Thank you,” he said.

The royal carriage rolled to a stop before the academy’s front gates. Behind it, another carriage arrived moments later — the one carrying Noel and Charlotte.

Noel and Charlotte stepped out first. The moment their feet touched the familiar stone path, a tall, slender figure with violet eyes was already approaching.

Daemar.

His coat fluttered lightly behind him, silver-streaked hair tied back in a neat tail. His expression was the same as always — strict, unreadable, but with a strange warmth buried beneath the discipline.

He bowed his head respectfully toward Seraphina as she stepped out of her carriage.

“Your Highness. Welcome back to Valor Academy.”

Seraphina nodded with poised calm. “Thank you, Daemar.”

Dior stepped out behind her, his green eyes sharp as ever. He didn’t speak, but gave a curt nod.

Only then did Daemar turn to Noel.

His tone shifted — barely, but enough that Noel noticed.

“You’re late.”

Noel blinked. “We arrived at the same time as the princess—”

“And yet,” Daemar interrupted dryly, “you’re still late.”

Charlotte’s shoulders trembled with a held-in laugh.

Seraphina sighed. “Daemar, please.”

Daemar cleared his throat, adjusting his posture. “Come. All four of you. We have much to discuss.”

He led them through the academy’s entrance — halls filled with banners, sunlight spilling through tall windows. Students paused mid-conversation, their eyes widening when they noticed Charlotte walking openly without her Sancta Veil.

Whispers spread instantly.

Seraphina kept walking with collected grace. Dior ignored the whispers entirely. Charlotte walked beside Noel a bit closer than usual, and Noel did his best not to let the attention bother her.

Inside the director’s office — Nicolas’s former office — Daemar closed the door behind them.

The atmosphere shifted immediately.

“First,” Daemar said, his eyes scanning the four of them, “I’m relieved to see you all alive.”

Dior scoffed quietly but didn’t disagree.

Inside the director’s office — once Nicolas’s, now Daemar’s — the door closed behind them with a soft click. The room felt familiar yet slightly altered: Daemar’s neatness replacing Nicolas’s organized chaos.

Daemar moved behind his desk, hands clasped behind his back, eyes passing over each of them with quiet intensity.

“First,” he said, voice low but steady, “I’m relieved to see all of you unharmed.”

Dior made a small noise — not disagreement, just his usual impatience.

Seraphina stepped forward, composed as ever. “I sent him everything I knew in a sealed report,” she explained. “Father and I thought the academy should be informed.”

Daemar nodded. “And I received additional letters from House Thorne’s messengers this morning. Rumors have been spreading among merchants and travelers as well.”

His gaze sharpened.

“What happened there… was not a small incident.”

Noel exhaled through his nose. “Yeah. You could say that.”

Daemar tilted his head. “Seraphina’s report mentioned your involvement in several critical moments.” He paused. “Again.”

Noel groaned quietly. “Is everyone just assuming it’s my fault whenever disaster appears?”

“That assumption,” Daemar said dryly, “seems statistically accurate.”

Charlotte smothered a laugh with her hand.

Seraphina pretended not to smile.

Even Dior rolled his eyes, but with less poison than usual.

Daemar continued, his tone softening — the way it always did when he spoke to Noel, even if he never admitted it.

“There are… certain patterns,” he said. “Every major crisis that has occurred in the last year seems to have found its way to you.”

Noel crossed his arms. “It’s not like I go looking for them.”

“Mm,” Daemar hummed. “Trouble simply finds you. Consistently.”

Charlotte laughed under her breath. Noel shot her a glare. She didn’t stop.

Daemar straightened slightly. “Regardless, Nicolas… would have been proud.” His voice dipped, barely audible. “He always believed you’d become someone important. Someone worth standing behind.”

Noel inhaled shakily — but Daemar didn’t give him time to answer.

“And so,” the director finished, “I intend to support you, as he once did. Not because I am obliged to — but because the academy must stand with its own.”

Seraphina nodded. “And as Student Council President, I’ll do the same. Whatever happened at House Thorne is now a matter of continental security.”

Daemar clasped his hands. “Sit. All of you. Begin from the start. I want every detail.”

Noel exchanged a look with Charlotte — a mix of exhaustion and relief.

They spent several minutes giving Daemar the broad strokes — nothing in depth, just the indispensable parts.

Noel leaned back in his chair, arms crossed lightly. “To put it simply… it was the same group that attacked Nicolas. The one that destroyed his core.”

Daemar’s expression darkened at once.

“And,” Noel added, “the same group that stole something important from House Thorne.”

Dior stiffened. “That group… the one I almost got tangled with?”

His tone held no pride — only a quiet, bitter recognition.

“Yeah,” Noel said evenly. “That one.”

Dior swallowed, jaw tightening. “I didn’t know. I was—”

He exhaled through his nose, gaze dropping. “It was a mistake. And I paid for it already.”

Seraphina shot him a brief, warning look, but Daemar only nodded slowly.

“I see.” His voice was cool, analytical. “Everything aligns, then. Nicolas’s fall… the unrest across the continent… now Thorne’s attack.”

He paced once behind his desk, hands clasped behind him.

“Concerning, to say the least.”

Noel shrugged lightly. “Welcome to my life.”

A faint sigh escaped Daemar — the closest he ever came to rolling his eyes.

Then Noel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“So, Director…” A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “How’s the new job treating you?”