The Extra is a Genius!?-Chapter 550: A Warm Reunion [IV]

The interior of the castle closed around them as they moved deeper inside, stone corridors stretching ahead in clean lines softened by age and use. Their footsteps echoed quietly against polished floors, the sound measured and restrained, as if the walls themselves expected composure. Guards stood at intervals along the way, alert but unobtrusive, allowing Seraphina to lead without interruption.

This place carried weight. Nothing here felt ornamental. Everything served a purpose.

As they walked, Seraphina spoke again, her voice lower now, stripped of ceremony. "As I mentioned earlier," she said, eyes forward, "his condition worsened after you left." She paused briefly, the words chosen with care. "It was expected. We all knew the limits. Even so... I had hoped he might last longer than this."

Elyra glanced at her but didn’t interrupt.

Seraphina continued, quieter. "Nicolas was there when I was named president of the student council. He stood behind me the entire time." A small smile touched her lips, brief and restrained. "At the time, I didn’t fully understand how much that mattered. I do now."

The corridor turned, light filtering in through tall windows that overlooked inner courtyards. The group followed in silence, the meaning of her words settling naturally among them. Whatever waited ahead wasn’t sudden, nor unexpected.

Elyra let out a quiet breath, the memory clearly resurfacing. "I remember that day," she said, a hint of nostalgia threading through her voice. "You looked calm on the outside, but you were already worrying about everything that could go wrong. Especially Dior." She glanced sideways at Seraphina. "You asked Noel for help right after. You didn’t even hesitate."

Seraphina nodded. "I couldn’t afford to," she replied. "Things were... complicated back then. Dior was being influenced, pulled in directions he didn’t fully understand." Her gaze softened slightly as it drifted ahead. "Having Noel there, backing me without question, made a bigger difference than he probably realized. It gave me the leverage I needed. And the confidence." She paused. "I’m grateful for that. It was a turning point."

Noel listened, then spoke up, curiosity slipping through the heaviness. "Speaking of Dior... where is he now? I haven’t seen him in a long time. Last I remember, he wasn’t exactly easy to be around."

Seraphina smiled at that, small but genuine. "He’s changed. Not perfectly, and not all at once, but for the better." She hesitated, choosing her words. "Some things from the past still weigh on him. They probably always will. But he’s trying. He’s not the same person he was."

"Hm," Elyra murmured. "That’s one way to put it." She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. "I still remember him when we were kids. Always picking fights, always trying to get under your skin. Honestly? He was unbearable."

Charlotte looked at her at once, concern gentle but clear. "You probably shouldn’t say that so lightly," she said. "He is still a prince."

Elyra waved it off without slowing, then shot Seraphina a sideways glance and an unapologetic wink. "Relax. She knows exactly what I mean."

Seraphina’s smile lingered. "I do," she said simply.

Seraphina slowed, then came to a stop before a tall wooden door set slightly apart from the rest of the corridor. The stone around it felt thicker somehow, the space quieter, as if the castle itself understood what was held behind it.

She turned to face them. "Nicolas asked to speak with Noel first," she said calmly. "Alone."

There was no hesitation in her voice, no need to soften the request. It was a statement of fact, and one that carried weight.

Elena nodded at once. "That’s fine," she said gently. "We’ll wait." The others followed her lead without question, the earlier levity fading into something more restrained.

Charlotte clasped her hands together, expression subdued now. Selene said nothing, but her attention shifted fully to Noel, steady and unreadable. Elyra met his eyes briefly and gave a small nod, all teasing set aside.

The corridor seemed to narrow around them.

Seraphina stepped aside, clearing the path. "Take your time," she added quietly.

Noel drew in a slow breath. He hadn’t realized how tight his chest felt until that moment. He nodded once, more to himself than anyone else, and stepped forward alone, leaving the others behind as the door waited in front of him.

The steps ahead rose in a gentle curve, worn smooth by years of passage. Noel took them slowly, one at a time, the sound of his boots muted against the stone. With every step upward, the space behind him seemed to fall away, leaving only the narrow stretch of stair and the door waiting above.

The first image surfaced without warning—standing among the other students during that first presentation, eyes drawn almost immediately to the man at the front. Nicolas had looked exactly like what Noel imagined a true archmage should be.

Old in a way that had nothing to do with age. There had been an aura around him, not overwhelming, not oppressive, but unmistakable. Something that made the room feel steadier just by his presence.

Then came the office.

The first summons. The second. The third. Noel had lost count after that. Each time expecting reprimand, each time leaving with more questions than answers. Nicolas never explained himself fully. He never needed to. He listened, asked a few pointed questions, and then trusted Noel anyway. Even when the decisions didn’t make sense to anyone else. Especially then.

His foot paused briefly on the next step.

Trust.

It had been there when it shouldn’t have been. When Noel chose paths others wouldn’t. When he acted on instincts he couldn’t justify out loud. Nicolas had backed him every time, not loudly, not publicly, but in ways that mattered. Doors opened. Consequences softened. Time was given.

Another step.

Lereus.

The memory hit harder than the rest. The moment everything should have ended. The crack of power, the certainty that he had gone too far. And Nicolas—moving faster than Noel had ever seen him move—lightning tearing through his own body as he put himself between Noel and death. The smell of ozone. The scream of mana tearing itself apart.

And after that, the First Pillar.

The battle that no one should have survived. The moment Nicolas’s core shattered, power collapsing, leaving him broken in ways healing magic could never fully mend. Noel remembered standing there afterward, knowing without being told that something irreversible had happened. That the man who had always stood behind him was paying the price now.

The stairs ended.

Noel stood still for a second longer, chest tight, breath shallow. The memories didn’t fade. They settled, heavy and close, pressing in as he looked at the door in front of him.

Every step had brought him closer.

Noel reached for the handle and pushed the door open.

Light spilled across the room first, soft and pale, filtering in through a wide window that looked out toward the academy grounds in the distance. It fell across the bed near the far wall, catching on white sheets and the still figure resting against the pillows.

Nicolas lay there, thinner than Noel remembered, his posture eased back not in rest but necessity. His skin looked almost translucent in the daylight, the sharpness that once defined him dulled by exhaustion. Where dark hair had once framed a composed, unshakable expression, only white remained now, worn and unhidden, like the final mark of everything he had endured.

For a moment, Noel couldn’t move.

Then Nicolas turned his head.

His eyes found Noel immediately, clear despite everything, and a faint smile pulled at his lips. "You came," he said softly. "I’m glad to see you."

Something in Noel’s chest gave way.

He stepped inside without thinking, the words leaving him before he could steady them. "It’s good to see you too," he replied, voice tight but honest. "Director Nicolas."

The door closed quietly behind him.