An Extra's Rise in a Romance Fantasy Novel-Chapter 38: A Room, A Routine, A Quiet Day

Testing Third Person Writing! If your response is good I will continue using it.

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Leon woke to the sound of footsteps above his head.

At first he thought someone was walking inside the forest, maybe a beast coming too close. Then the wooden ceiling creaked again, and he remembered where he was. The storage room. The tavern. The mattress under his back. Everything felt slightly stiff and cold, but at least he had a roof now.

He sat up slowly. His body still had faint echoes of the previous day’s work. Sore arms. Aching legs. A dull heaviness in the hands he’d used to scrub, sweep, and carry. Compared to the way he first trained with the sword, though, this felt almost gentle.

He rubbed his eyes, stood, and opened the door.

Warm light from the tavern kitchen spilled through the hall. Someone had already started cooking. The smell of bread and something rich drifted out. The sounds of plates clinking came one after another, mixed with soft movements.

Lyra stood near the counter, tying her hair back. She looked focused, already busy.

"You’re up," she said without turning.

Leon stepped closer. "Yeah."

"Father’s out in the back. He says you can start by bringing water from the well. The morning crowd’s always thirsty."

Leon nodded and headed out.

The morning air felt fresh. Cool. A small breeze crossed the settlement and brushed against his face as he walked. Evergreen looked different at this hour. Softer. Quieter. Only a few people walked the dirt streets. A mother carrying a basket. Two men loading crates onto a wagon. A boy sweeping the road in front of his home.

Leon reached the well and lowered the bucket. The rope creaked. Water splashed. He pulled it up, poured it into the big wooden container beside the tavern door, and went back for more.

He repeated the process until the container filled.

Simple work.

Steady.

Almost like breathing.

When he finished, Bram came around the corner holding a crate of apples.

"You filled the water barrel already?" Bram asked, eyebrows lifting.

"Yes."

"Good. Most people drag that chore out like they expect the rope to pull itself." He nodded toward the tavern door. "Come inside. Breakfast crowd should arrive soon."

Inside, Lyra placed small plates and cups on every table, her movements quick and practiced.

Leon grabbed a cloth and wiped down the counter again, making sure it was clean enough to see faint reflections in the wood. The early customers drifted in shortly after.

Two older men talking about crop prices.

A woman carrying her daughter on her hip.

A hunter with a scar down his cheek, carrying a large leather bag that smelled like fresh animal hide.

"Morning," Bram said to each one, voice steady but tired.

Leon stayed in the background, helping where needed.

Pour water.

Carry plates.

Fetch more bread.

Clean up crumbs.

Lyra worked beside him, sometimes silent, sometimes speaking a few brief words.

"You can move faster," she said once, not unkindly.

"I can," Leon replied.

Then he did.

As the place filled with more voices and footsteps, Leon learned something strange. Despite the noise, despite the movement, this work calmed him. It locked him into the moment, into the rhythm around him. No thoughts of his epic fight against the Gross Wyrm. No memories of the Haldrins. No heavy anger from before. Only now. Only tasks he could finish with his hands.

At one point, Lyra placed a plate of food on the counter. "This is yours," she said. "Father said you should eat before you drop."

Leon blinked. "I didn’t ask for food."

"You worked through breakfast," she said simply. "It’s yours."

He sat near the kitchen door and ate quietly. Warm bread. Soft eggs. A small piece of seasoned meat. Things he hadn’t tasted in days. Lyra didn’t speak while he ate, but every now and then, she glanced his way. Not curious. Just checking.

When he finished, he stood and returned the plate to the back.

The work continued.

Later that afternoon, when the crowd thinned, Bram stepped outside, leaving Lyra and Leon to clean.

Lyra scrubbed a table, while Leon carried used plates to the basin.

"You learn fast," she said as she worked.

"It’s not hard," Leon replied. "Just steady."

"Most people get bored," Lyra said. "You don’t."

"I’ve lived through worse than boredom."

She paused and looked at him. "You say things like that often."

"Things like what?"

"That you’ve seen worse. Lived worse." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "But you never explain."

Leon didn’t answer.

Because he couldn’t.

Because explaining would mean telling her about a world of revenge, death, memories that weren’t truly his, the strange quiet world inside a bead, and a magical creature hiding in the forest.

Simple wasn’t easy for him.

Lyra didn’t push. She simply nodded and went back to cleaning, as if she had expected no answer.

By early evening, Bram returned, as Leon helped unload a wagon of supplies, moving crates of vegetables and bags of grain into the back room.

The sun dipped low by the time the work slowed again. The tavern glowed with warm lantern light, and customers started arriving for dinner.

Voices grew louder.

Ale poured.

Laughter filled the room.

Leon stayed busy.

But every now and then, he felt it.

A pull. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

An echo.

A faint, instinctive worry tugging at his stomach.

Sylveon.

The beast still waited outside the settlement, alone in the forest shadows.

He couldn’t leave yet. There were too many eyes. Too many people inside the tavern. It would look strange if the new worker simply vanished.

So he kept working.

Clean spilled ale.

Carry food.

Wipe the tables.

And he told himself the same thing each time the worry returned.

Just a few hours more.

---

When the tavern finally emptied near midnight, Bram locked the door and stretched his back.

"Good work today," Bram said, voice low. "You stayed focused. Didn’t cause trouble. Keep that up and you’ll make enough coin for your own room soon."

Leon nodded. "Thank you."

Bram yawned and walked upstairs. "Get some rest. You start early again tomorrow."

The wooden steps creaked beneath his weight.

Lyra lingered behind, cleaning one last table. When she finished, she wiped her hands on her apron.

"You leaving again?" she asked.

Leon froze for half a second.

Then he nodded. "Just for a bit."

Lyra studied him, her eyes steady and thoughtful. "Do you... have someone waiting for you?"

Leon paused.

The truth was dangerous.

The lie felt wrong.

So he chose something in between.

"Something is waiting," he said quietly. "Not someone."

Lyra didn’t understand, that much was clear, but she let it be.

"Be careful then," she said softly.

Leon nodded and stepped outside into the cool night.

....

The forest welcomed him with shadows and rustling leaves. The settlement behind his back felt like another world entirely.

When he reached the old clearing, Sylveon dropped down from a branch again, landing with a soft thump.

The beast walked to him fast, tail swinging once, ears twitching with relief.

"You’re okay," Leon said, touching the soft fur between its ears. "Good."

Sylveon nudged him hard, almost pushing him back. The beast’s eyes narrowed, scolding him in its own wordless way.

"I know," Leon said, sighing. "I took too long."

Sylveon made a small, frustrated sound.

"I promise I’ll be faster tomorrow. The tavern is busy. Too many people watch me move. I can’t slip out until they’re done."

Sylveon paced in a small circle, then sat beside him.

Leon sat down too, leaning against a tree trunk. The moon cast a pale glow on the forest floor. He stayed there a while, letting the silence settle.

After some time, he stood again.

"Just two more days," he said quietly. "Maybe three. Then I’ll have enough money to rent a room. When that happens, I’ll sneak you inside at night. No one will see."

Sylveon tilted his head, listening.

Leon placed a hand on the creature’s head again. "You won’t be outside forever."

The beast’s ear flicked.

Then Leon stepped back, slowly.

"I’ll come again tomorrow night."

He left the forest and returned to the settlement.

....

The tavern was dark when Leon arrived, with only a single lantern burning near the stairs, and he slipped into his small storage room to sit on the mattress, letting out a long breath as the pain from his raw hands and aching back settled in; he hadn’t had a quiet moment to think all day, but when he closed his eyes, the images of Sylveon’s trusting look, Lyra’s quick glances, and Bram’s tired approval made the world feel, inexplicably, steadier.

He then lay down, pulling the thin cloth over his chest to stare at the wooden ceiling, knowing tomorrow would bring the same routine—work, crowds, cleaning, checking on Sylveon, and more work—but for someone who had woken in a stranger’s body with stranger memories, this routine felt like breathing for the first time, and he closed his eyes as sleep came easily.