The Useless Extra Knows It All....But Does He?
Chapter 54 - Cold Flames, Awkward Bridges

Chapter 54: Chapter 54 - Cold Flames, Awkward Bridges

The moment I stepped onto the balcony, I saw him—Luca—bathed in evening’s quiet glow, his gaze far away, lost in thoughts heavier than his young frame should bear.

He didn’t notice me at first.

"What are you thinking so hard of?" I asked gently, stepping forward.

He startled, eyes wide, and leapt to his feet with that awkward, respectful clumsiness he always showed around me. I never asked for that level of formality, but he offered it anyway—perhaps out of habit. Or maybe reverence. I’m not sure which I deserve more.

"Greetings, Master. How are you?"

A smile tugged at my lips beneath the veil. I stepped into the room, careful, composed. "I should be the one asking that," I replied. "How are you, after that battle?"

He lied.

Just a little.

"I’m fine, Master. What could possibly happen to me?"

But it was there—that brief flicker. That half-second break in his voice. A smile held just a beat too long. I’ve seen enough broken people to know what weight looks like. And he wore it well... too well.

So I pressed, softly.

And he told me everything.

Or at least, what he could bring himself to say.

Emeron... Eric... the corrupted crystal. The way that man transformed into something no longer human. The desperation. The helplessness. The terror. But most of all—the vision.

That caught my breath.

To see the world through Emeron’s eyes... to feel the agony of someone you had to kill.

Luca didn’t cry. Didn’t scream. He just spoke, quiet and steady, like a soldier giving a report. But the more he spoke, the more I saw it—how heavy it all sat in his chest.

He collapsed halfway through. Not from drama, not for effect. His body simply gave out. Like it had held too much for too long.

I moved to his side and placed a hand gently against his back. He flinched. Not from fear. Just... unused to the touch.

So I stayed there. Quiet. Steady. Just present.

Not as the Tower Master.

Not as a Magister.

But as his Master.

Just as someone who could carry a little of that weight with him, even if only for a moment.

When he’d steadied himself, when his hands stopped shaking, I asked what he had been thinking about so deeply earlier.

He held up a book—some saber technique manual he found in a cave. Curious, I took it from him, flipping through the pages with idle interest. Until—

My fingers stopped.

That aura flow diagram... I knew this formation.

No.

No, it couldn’t be.

I closed the book slowly.

"...It’s a good one," I said aloud, slipping the mask of calm back over my face. "Structured. But tell me clearly—what’s the exact problem?"

He explained. Aura misalignment. Technique not syncing. Every word so earnest, so desperate to understand.

I offered the oil-and-water analogy. Taught him the basics of elemental resonance, what affinities meant. He listened like a sponge pressed to water.

We didn’t delve deeply—just enough to nudge him forward. I explained to him about Time and Space, everything I knew about it. Explained how they were the framework of everything. I watched his eyes widen as understanding bloomed there.

Still... it wasn’t the theory that lingered in my mind.

It was his voice, when he said—

"You’ve been so good to me... Maybe more than anyone else ever has."

I froze.

It wasn’t the kind of statement you respond to right away. It wasn’t even a compliment, really. It was just the truth—raw and unvarnished, hanging in the air between us.

Why... does that hurt?

He shouldn’t say things like that.

I didn’t mean to care. I didn’t plan to grow attached. He was just another student. Just another talent the world would demand too much from.

Poor child. What must be going on in his mind.

So when he spoke of helping with Selena—offering to come with me, just to make it easier—I couldn’t speak at first. _{fre ewe bnove l.com}

My daughter... the distance between us stretches longer than any road in this world. I’ve wanted to bridge it. Gods know I have. But guilt is a cold thing. It sits like frost in your throat. You think of what to say—but the words never come out.

And yet here he is. Luca. Reaching out with a hand I don’t deserve.

"If and when you ever feel like telling me... I’ll be here. I’ll listen."

I patted his head before I realized I had moved.

That softness... motherly, even. I wonder what Selena would think if she saw me now.

She probably wouldn’t recognize me.

But maybe—just maybe—I want to be recognized.

So I nodded when he asked to come with me. Let him think he was helping.

Because... maybe he was.

Maybe it’s not too late.

For either of us.

And, my daughter is finally here.

****

Selena arrived, her long pale hair still slightly damp from her bath. Her expression was unreadable as always, but the moment her eyes fell on to me beside her mother, her steps faltered for a fraction of a second.

She didn’t greet him. She didn’t have to. Her narrowed eyes said everything.

Luca stood there awkwardly. He wasn’t sure if he should smile or nod—or just vanish.

He chose silence.

Selena turned to the Tower Master with her usual detached sharpness.

"What do you want?" she asked bluntly. The tone was close to disrespectful, but she didn’t seem to care.

The Tower Master looked at her daughter for a moment, then calmly asked, "How are you doing?"

Selena let out a cold, joyless laugh.

"Why do you care?"

The words cut through the night like a blade. The air between them thickened with unspoken resentment. The Tower Master opened her mouth slightly, about to say something—

—but Luca stepped forward quickly.

"Why don’t we sit down and talk, Master?" I said quickly, trying to throw water on the embers before they became wildfire.

Selena’s eyes snapped back to him, confusion flickering in their depths.

"Master?" she echoed, clearly caught off guard.

The Tower Master answered plainly, "Hmm.He is my disciple."

Selena looked even more surprised now. "Since when did that happen?"

There. An opening.

Before the Tower Master could reply,Luca jumped in hastily.

"Just today," he said, forcing a steady tone. "She wanted you to be the first to know something important... and to check how you’ve been doing."

Luca spoke fast. Like firing arrows without aiming. Every word another shot in the dark.

Out of the corner of his eye, I could see the Tower Master glance at him, eyes wide with surprise and something close to... astonishment?

Selena scoffed.

"Hmph. Is this your latest performance?" she said coldly, her tone thick with sarcasm. "Pretending to care in front of others?"

She turned on her heel.

"I’m fine. I’ll be going now."

She left. Shoes tapping against stone. Vanishing into the evening fog.

"...Eh?" Luca blinked. "That’s it?"

He turned to the Tower Master awkwardly. "Sorry, Master... I thought maybe it’d help."

And then, the last thing he expected happened.

The Tower Master—stoic, distant, always composed—

burst out laughing.

It was light, melodic, and entirely out of character. For a moment, she seemed like a completely different person.

Luca blinked, startled. After a few seconds, she composed herself, brushing her hair behind her ear with a soft breath.

"I didn’t think you could lie like that with a straight face."

Luca rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. "Still didn’t work though, did it?"

She shook her head faintly, her voice lower now.

"You think so?"

He looked at her, confused.

"She said she’s fine." The Tower Master looked down the path Selena had taken. "Normally, she wouldn’t even respond. Tonight, she did. That’s new. She must not know what to say after this, so she ran back"

Luca was quiet. He hadn’t expected that. Not at all.

Yeah, she must be saying this for my sake.

Then, to his surprise, the Tower Master stepped forward and gently patted his head.

"Thank you."

It wasn’t a mockery. It wasn’t an act. It felt genuine—oddly sincere coming from someone so aloof.

She’s not pretending.

I thought it might be just to make me feel better. But the weight in her voice... it was real.

Sigh, I didn’t think their relationship was this bad.

Even words like "I’m fine" are rare enough to be cherished.

****

I rubbed my eyes, groaning.

Then froze.

Blinking.

Then blinking again.

"...Did I get colorblind or something?"

"Why does pink look like white all of a sudden...?"