SHATTERED INNOCENCE: TRANSMIGRATED INTO A NOVEL AS AN EXTRA

Aeliana’s gaze flickered toward Lucavion, watching him carefully.

She had never seen him like this before.

Oh, she had seen his arrogance, his playful mockery, his insufferable smirks—but this?

This was different.

His presence was suffocating, his words a blade so carefully sharpened that Corvina had no choice but to recognize the cut.

And yet—

Aeliana saw it.

Even as he sat there, his expression unreadable, his voice calm, his posture relaxed—there was something off.

Something in the way his fingers rested lightly against his chin, too measured. Something in the way his smirk had faded, replaced by something too precise, too controlled.

Something in his eyes.

Aeliana had spent enough time around Lucavion to know when he was playing a role. When he was shifting pieces on the board and deciding what mask to wear.

Right now, he wasn’t just intimidating Corvina.

He was masking something.

Aeliana didn’t know what it was.

But she could feel it.

Still—this wasn’t her place to intervene.

She wasn’t here to pick apart his mind.

She had tagged along to see what he was doing. That was all.

And so, she remained silent, her expression giving nothing away as she leaned slightly against the back of her chair, her amber eyes steady on Lucavion.

Meanwhile, across from them, Corvina remained still.

She wasn’t a fool.

She knew exactly what had just happened.

Lucavion had drawn a line.

A deliberate, unmistakable line.

And she had nearly crossed it.

Her fingers tapped against the table once, twice, before she finally exhaled softly.

“…I see,” she murmured, her voice quieter now.

She met Lucavion’s gaze, searching for something—but whatever she was looking for, she wouldn’t find it.

Because Lucavion had already decided.

After a moment, she gave a slow nod.

“I overstepped,” she admitted.

It wasn’t an apology. But it was an acknowledgment.

Lucavion studied her for a moment longer, then leaned back, his expression relaxing just slightly.

“Good,” he said, his smirk returning, albeit softer. “I was beginning to wonder if I had to spell it out for you.”

Corvina rolled her eyes, but the tension that had gripped the room just moments ago finally eased.

Then she leaned back slightly, letting the tension in her shoulders dissipate—just enough to regain her sense of control. The shift in the atmosphere was subtle, but noticeable. The sharp, suffocating weight that had filled the air moments ago had lifted, replaced by something more neutral.

‘It appears I was getting tired as well.’

She hadn’t realized it at first, but she could feel it now—the way fatigue crept at the edges of her thoughts, making her slip in ways she normally wouldn’t. She was usually better at keeping her emotions measured, at maintaining a composed balance between her authority as Guildmaster and the need to understand the people she dealt with.

And yet, she had let her frustration seep through.

‘Perhaps it’s because I’ve spent too much time dealing with grieving adventurers. Too much time reading reports filled with names that will never return. Too much time answering questions I don’t have the answers to.’

She exhaled softly, lifting her teacup and taking a slow sip, letting the warmth soothe her.

‘But none of that changes what just happened.’

Lucavion had drawn a line, and she had nearly crossed it.

There was a difference between questioning a man’s choices and questioning his principles.

And Lucavion was a man with very clear principles—ones that did not waver under the weight of expectations, ones that were not bound by conventional ideas of morality.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care.

It was that caring did not change the decisions he made.

‘And that is why he is dangerous.’

She had known this already—of course she had. He was called Sword Demon for a reason.

But knowing something in theory was different from feeling the weight of it firsthand.

Across from her, Lucavion had already shifted back into his usual demeanor, his expression lighter now, the sharpness in his eyes hidden once more behind a layer of amusement.

Corvina let out a soft breath before finally speaking again, this time with the same measured calm she should have maintained from the beginning.

“I won’t press you further on it,” she said.

Lucavion’s smirk twitched. “Oh? That’s surprisingly reasonable of you.”

Corvina ignored the teasing remark, letting the moment pass without reaction. Instead, she placed her cup back onto the saucer, her fingers lightly tracing the rim as she considered her next words.

“There’s still the matter of these creatures you’ve brought back,” she said, her gaze flickering toward the monstrous remains sprawled across the stone floor. “This is not something I can overlook.”

Lucavion’s smirk remained, but there was something sharper beneath it—something knowing.

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

Corvina exhaled, smoothing out the tension in her posture as she shifted back into business mode. Whatever had just transpired between them was over—for now. She was not someone who let emotions cloud judgment for long, and there was still a transaction to handle.

Her sharp gaze flickered over the monstrous remains sprawled across the stone floor. Even now, they pulsed with an unnatural energy, a foreign presence that made the air feel heavier.

‘They are not from here. That much is clear.’

Slowly, she stepped forward, crouching slightly to examine one of the carcasses—a massive beast with jagged crystalline growths sprouting from its back, the faint glow still shimmering beneath its thick hide.

“This…” she murmured, fingers hovering near one of the cracked crystals before pulling back. “This is fascinating.”

Lucavion smirked. “I thought you might think so.”

Corvina ignored him, standing once more, eyes narrowing as she assessed the sheer variety of creatures before her. “From their structure, their auras, even the decay of their cores… it’s obvious that these monsters are of their own kind. They don’t belong to any ecosystem I’ve seen before.”

Her gaze flicked toward Lucavion. “Which means they will be valuable.”

She could already think of several interested parties—the Nobles, the high-ranking Alchemists, the private collectors—but one, in particular, stood out.

“The Magic Tower will be willing to pay well for them,” she mused aloud. “They’ve been desperate for anything beyond the limitations of our realm. If I were to take these to them, they would throw their funding at the opportunity to study creatures from an unknown land.”

Lucavion’s smirk deepened. “That is right.”

Corvina crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly. “If you want me to be the middleman for this, then we’re going to split—”

She let the word linger, watching him carefully, testing the waters of negotiation.

Lucavion exhaled lazily, as if already anticipating the direction she was going. “Of course, Guildmaster. We’re both business-minded people, aren’t we? How about an even sixty-forty?”

Corvina gave him a bland look.

“No.”

Lucavion chuckled, shaking his head. “Then fifty-fifty?”

Corvina clicked her tongue, looking entirely unimpressed. “Lucavion.”

He sighed dramatically. “Alright, alright. Forty-sixty. You take the forty.”

Corvina’s lips quirked upward ever so slightly.

‘That’s it. Just a little more.’

“Thirty-seventy,” she countered, her voice smooth, certain. “You take the thirty.”

Lucavion’s smirk twitched as he leaned slightly against the table. “Now, Guildmaster, do you really think I’m the type to walk away with thirty percent?”

“I think you’re the type who knows how to make repeat business work in your favor,” she countered easily. “You get the reputation of being the one who supplies materials no one else can access, while I make sure you don’t have to do the exhausting legwork of dealing with the Magic Tower’s absurd demands.”

Lucavion hummed, feigning deep thought. “Tempting.”

Corvina was about to press further—about to seal the deal—when—

“Stop.”

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