The Extra is a Genius!?-Chapter 575: Under White Lanterns

Lantern light traced long golden lines across the white stone as they continued walking.

The statue was no longer visible behind them. Only the quiet geometry of the gardens remained—trimmed hedges, pale pathways, distant marble colonnades reflecting the sacred glow. The Holy Capital at night felt contained, as if even the wind had been instructed to move with restraint.

Noel broke the silence first.

"You know I wouldn’t bring this to you without certainty," he said, voice steady. "Elarin cannot be brought into this world. Not like this. Not through what the Circle is attempting."

Orthran walked with his hands folded behind his back, listening.

"Roberto has to be stopped," Noel continued. "There isn’t another path that avoids catastrophe. Six months at most. That’s the window I’m working with."

Gravel shifted beneath their boots.

"I have Tharvaldur," Noel added. "Balthor committed his forces. The Empire of Valor stands with me. The royal family has already aligned. The other families will follow once the full scope is laid out. Redna is on her way as well. She’ll be here within two days.

Orthran’s gaze remained forward, but his attention did not waver. A soft breeze stirred the hem of his coat.

"It’s inevitable," he said.

They walked a few more steps before Orthran responded.

"Charlotte’s reforms have begun to take root," he said. "The internal structure of the Church is more transparent now. Oversight councils have been adjusted. Certain... rigid voices no longer dominate discussions."

Noel glanced at him briefly.

"The Church is changing," Orthran continued. "Slowly, but genuinely. The younger clergy listen differently than they did before. Faith here is still strong, but it is less brittle."

"That helps," Noel said.

"It does," Orthran agreed. "It means there will be resistance, yes—but not chaos."

They passed beneath another pair of lanterns. The cathedral towers rose ahead, white and severe against the night.

Noel inhaled once.

"So," he asked plainly, "is that a yes?"

Orthran did not answer immediately. He allowed the question to settle between them, measured against doctrine, against politics, against centuries of belief carved into stone.

When he spoke, his voice carried no hesitation.

"Yes."

The word was simple.

"The Holy Capital will stand with you," Orthran said. "We will not allow a corrupted divinity to return under false sanctity."

Noel’s shoulders eased a fraction.

But Orthran continued.

"This is not a decision made lightly," he added. "You understand what it means for the Church to position itself openly against the possibility of Elarin’s return. There will be scholars who protest. Priests who doubt. Devout believers who struggle."

"I expected that," Noel replied.

"The Church cannot move impulsively," Orthran said. "We will prepare our narrative carefully. We will speak of protection, not rebellion. Preservation, not denial."

Noel nodded. "I’m not here to tear down belief. I’m here to keep it from collapsing."

They continued walking beneath the steady glow of the sacred lanterns.

The political weight had already been settled between them. What remained now was simpler. Human.

Orthran’s voice shifted, less Shepherd, more father.

"You will be staying a few days," he said. "Redna has not arrived yet."

"Yes," Noel answered. "She should be here within two days."

Orthran gave a small nod. "Then you will not remain in the cathedral guest wing. Stay at my house instead. It will be more comfortable."

Noel glanced at him. "Are you sure?"

"I would not offer otherwise."

"Then I’ll accept."

They turned onto a quieter path, the sound of gravel softer now, the gardens thinning toward the residential quarter.

Orthran spoke again. "While you are here, will you need anything arranged?"

Noel was quiet for a moment.

"There are two places I want to visit," he said.

Orthran did not interrupt.

"Erick’s grave."

The words came evenly.

"And the orphanage."

The breeze moved gently through the hedges.

Orthran inclined his head once. "I will have someone inform them discreetly."

"No," Noel said calmly. "I’d rather just go."

Orthran looked at him briefly, then nodded. "As you wish."

Orthran’s gaze stayed forward, but his voice lowered as if the topic belonged to the night.

"Speaking of children," he said, and his hand tightened briefly around the folds of his robe, "how is Charlotte?"

He didn’t look at Noel at first. When he did, the concern was obvious in his eyes.

"She’s pregnant," Orthran added, almost as if reminding himself. "I want to know she’s well. No complications?"

Noel’s expression softened. "She’s fine," he said calmly. "Everything’s going smoothly."

Orthran’s shoulders eased by a small degree, then he hesitated, the next question pushing its way out despite him trying to keep it contained.

"Tomorrow you can speak with her."

Orthran stopped walking. "What?"

For a second, his face went still, then his brows drew together with quiet alarm. "Tomorrow?" he repeated, voice sharpening. "Noel—she should not be traveling in her condition."

He turned fully now, protective instinct overtaking restraint. "If she’s coming here, that’s too much strain. Even with escorts, even with comfort—"

Noel lifted a hand, not to cut him off rudely, but to slow him down, and a small, almost apologetic smile touched his mouth.

"She’s not coming here," Noel said gently. "I didn’t mean it like that."

Orthran blinked, confused, as if trying to reconcile the timeline in his head. "Then how—"

Noel reached into his Dimensional Pouch and pulled out the communication device, the runes along its casing glowing faintly under the lantern light. He held it up between them, letting Orthran see it properly before saying anything else.

"With this," Noel said. "We can talk from anywhere."

Orthran’s eyes fixed on the artifact, his expression shifting from worry to focused attention. He didn’t touch it, but his posture leaned a fraction closer.

"A device..." he murmured, voice quieter again. "For voice?"

Noel nodded. "Yeah, no letters or messengers. Just a call."

Orthran’s gaze lifted slowly back to Noel, the earlier tension draining out of him in a controlled exhale. "So she remains safe," he said, almost to himself.

"She stays where she is," Noel confirmed. "Resting. And you still get to hear her."

Orthran held the device in his sight a moment longer, understanding settling in, and then he nodded once—firm, grateful, and still very much a father before anything else.

"Then tomorrow," he said quietly, "I will speak to my daughter."

Instead of continuing toward the cathedral, Orthran turned down a narrower path that curved away from the grand avenues. The lanterns here were smaller, set lower to the ground. The stone beneath their feet remained white, but the scale of everything shifted—less towering, less ceremonial.

"This way," Orthran said simply.

They left behind the monumental arches and open plazas. The wide gardens gave way to modest courtyards and smaller buildings arranged with practical symmetry rather than grandeur.

This was not the cathedral district.

It was the residential side of the Holy Capital.

Noel had never walked here before. The last time he had been within these walls, every step had been measured, analytical, mission-focused. He had studied exits, patrol patterns, and structural layout.

Tonight, he just walked.

Ahead, low houses of pale stone stood in quiet rows, their windows warm with interior light. No guards lined the doors. No banners marked status. No gold adorned the thresholds.

Orthran slowed slightly as they entered the quieter street.

"I do not require a palace," he said, almost casually.

They stopped in front of one of the smaller houses.

It was built from the same pale stone as the rest of the Holy Capital, but without carved pillars or engraved scripture along the walls. The facade was simple and clean. A low roof of white-tiled slate sloped gently over the structure, practical rather than imposing.

Two wooden-framed windows flanked the door, their glass catching the lantern light softly. Beneath one of them grew a narrow line of herbs—mint, sage, and a few medicinal plants carefully tended in rectangular stone beds. The scent was faint but fresh.

A single lamp burned beside the entrance, casting a warm circle of light over the threshold.

Through the window, Noel could see the suggestion of warm interior light—steady and welcoming. The silhouette of simple furniture. Nothing too fancy.

Orthran stepped forward and opened the door himself.

He turned slightly toward Noel, a faint smile touching his features.

"Make yourself comfortable."