The Cursed Extra: Bloodline of Sacrifice
Chapter 176 - 176: Whispers on the Balcony

[Royal Academy Dormitory Block S]

The sun hung high, washing the room in a pale gold glow through sheer curtains.

The dorm was too quiet for the hour. Because mostly Students were seated in their usual classes.

Caspian lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. One arm behind his head, the other resting on his stomach, fingers drumming in thought.

"They let me go too easily…"

He blinked.

"No real cross-questioning. No magical bindings. No truth hex. They asked basic questions anyone would if they found someone associated with Kismet... but for an organization like this."

He sat up slowly, rubbing his temple.

'I should've been under magical surveillance by now. Was Kismet wrong about the influence of the Outlings? Or... is their reach far enough that they don't need to show teeth?'

He sighed.

His thoughts were interrupted by a voice—soft, but piercing.

"What's got you thinking so hard?"

He snapped to the side, reaching for the dagger beneath his pillow out of pure reflex.

On the edge of the small balcony, legs crossed, a woman sat casually as if she owned the place. Her black hair rippled in the late morning breeze, catching the sunlight like strands of ink. Her eyes—a deep, unfathomable blue—watched him.

Caspian's fingers hesitated on the hilt.

"…Melina?"

"Good morning to you too," she replied with a faint smile.

"How the hell did you even—?" he stopped. No point in asking.

If she could sit on his balcony like this, undetected, she could enter and leave at will.

"Why are you here?" he asked, his tone sharper now, defensive.

"Relax," she said, raising her palms. "If I wanted to harm you, you'd already be out cold. I'm not here to poison your coffee or pin you to the wall with runes. Just talking."

"That's rarely all it is," Caspian muttered.

Melina laughed softly, more amused than offended.

"Cynical already? I suppose that comes with carrying a death-marked fate."

"…What?"

"You are Caspian," she said, standing slowly, brushing imaginary dust from her black trousers. "But you are not. Something inside you doesn't belong in this world… or maybe, something more than this world. I don't know yet."

Caspian's heartbeat quickened slightly. He kept his expression neutral.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, voice even.

"Mm," she hummed. "Maybe. But let me tell you what I do know."

She walked closer, past the curtains into the room, the wind following behind her like an invisible cloak.

"There's an air around you—like a paradox. I've tested hundreds of people over the years. Liars, murderers, outlings, mages under possession. But never… never have I seen someone whose fate is being actively rewritten. Like it's caught in a war between erasure and defiance."

She stopped just a few feet from his bed.

"I looked into your thread during the questioning," she said. "And for a moment, I thought I saw it fray completely. Like death had already claimed you once. But then… something pushed it back."

Caspian stayed silent.

Her expression softened. "I think even you don't fully know what you are."

Silence hung for a few seconds, like the room had fallen into a vacuum. The wind died. Caspian didn't move.

"And that's fine," she continued, taking a step back toward the balcony. "Just speak the truth when I ask. That's all I ask in return for what I did."

Caspian narrowed his eyes. "You saved me?"

"I cleared the room when you hesitated. Said your answer was true when I could have stalled it. Gave the officers an easy out to end questioning." This version is sourced from NovelFire.

Caspian leaned forward, voice low. "Why?"

She tilted her head.

"I don't like bureaucracies," she said simply. "And I don't like the smell of fear around you being hunted for what might be. I saw a scared kid trying to play calm. That's all."

Her tone was calm. Almost too calm. Caspian knew better than to trust words alone—but something about her eyes didn't hold malice.

Still.

'Is she an outling?'

'Or worse....'

"I'm not here to trap you," Melina said suddenly, as if reading his mind. "There's no surveillance in this room. You can use your zone if you don't believe me."

"…You're good,the thing you are saying are not making any sense" Caspian muttered.

"I'm very good," she smiled. "Now, let me ask you something, Caspian. Where is Kismet?"

Caspian's already know this question was coming.

He didn't answer.

Melina watched his eyes. And then, she simply turned back to the balcony, placing one hand on the frame.

"…Alright," she said, "Fine. Don't tell me. For now."

And then she was gone.

The curtains fluttered for a moment longer. Then the wind stilled again.

Caspian leaned back into his bed, heartbeat still steady, but his hands slightly clenched.

"This is only going to get worse."

"I need to move carefully now…"

.....

[Academy Lecture Hall 1-A]

The classroom was silent save for the soft hum of the ventilation system.

Most of the students were half-alert, their faces showing signs of exhaustion from recent events—the revolt, the tension surrounding Caspian's disappearance and sudden return, and the news constantly flashing across academy terminals.

Standing at the front was Instructor Malin, a tall, wiry man in his mid-forties.

He looked up from his datapad and spoke with measured clarity.

"Today is 12th May, 2097. The A-rank mission, which was originally scheduled for the 15th, has officially been postponed to the 19th due to recent internal disruptions. The delay has been confirmed by both the Academy Council and the Field Coordination Office."

Murmurs spread through the class, a few relieved sighs mixed with frustration.

Malin raised a hand. "I know many of you who are selected were mentally prepared to depart in a few days. But this delay is not an excuse to slack off. It's additional time—use it wisely."

He tapped the pad, and the schedule was projected on the main display behind him.

> "From today, classes will gradually taper off. Formal lectures will end here. You'll have time until the 25th of May for team coordination, simulation drills, and equipment checks. Your summer recess officially begins on the 25th and runs until the 26th of June."

He paused, letting the information sink in.

"That said… I strongly recommend you don't treat this as a vacation. Stay at the academy if possible. Use the facilities. Keep your momentum. You've been given time—not to rest, but to grow without distractions."

A few nods followed. Others scribbled notes or tapped on their wrist-terminals.

Then, shifting topics, Malin looked toward the middle rows, where several well-known team formations were seated—among them.

> "Now, onto a related matter. Since the last combat assessment and matches were interrupted, no official rankings were finalized. Meaning—there is currently no team in the first position."

He let the silence linger.

> "As a result, the choice of team leader will be left to you."

A ripple of surprise went through the classroom. That kind of decision was usually reserved for top-ranked teams, not left to student discretion.

Malin's gaze was firm but fair.

> "If you fail to select one among yourselves by the end of the week, the Academy will step in. And we will base the decision on individual assessments—leadership simulations, combat reports, field coordination aptitude."

He paused, then stepped forward, voice taking on a more thoughtful tone.

> "I want you to remember something. A leader isn't necessarily the strongest in battle."

He pointed a finger at his temple.

> "They're the ones who can make decisions in real time. They know when to push and when to retreat. They keep the team together. They understand the strengths of those around them—and they trust."

> "So, choose someone who can speak when the rest of you hesitate. Someone who doesn't panic when plans fall apart."

He gave a soft nod.

> "That's it from me. Dismissed."

With a wave of his hand, the schedule flickered off the main display. The classroom began to buzz again—low conversations, some stretching, a few collecting their bags.

Darian leaned back in his seat, arms folded, his sharp eyes already scanning the faces of his teammates. Vynesaa tapped her pen against her notebook thoughtfully.