Extra To Protagonist

A pause. "…Of course, sir. But—" She hesitated, clearly measuring her words. "Forgive me, it's unusual. None of the major shareholders have ever requested to appear physically. May I ask… why now?"

Merlin's mind raced. He couldn't tell her the truth, that he needed to steer this company toward the events he remembered from the book, that his knowledge came from another world entirely.

So he gave her something simpler. Something they couldn't argue with.

"Because I'm tired of watching decisions get made without me." His voice cut clean, steady. "I've invested more than enough to earn my seat at the table."

Silence again. Then, a small exhale. "…Understood. I'll escalate your request to the board immediately. One moment while I check availability."

Merlin leaned forward now, resting his elbows on his knees. His heartbeat thudded in his ears.

This was it. Step one. No sword in his hand, no battlefield under his boots, just words.

The line clicked again. "Mr. Everhart? The board will be in session tomorrow at ten in the morning. Location: Invoke Tower, central business district. Shall I confirm your attendance?"

"Yes."

"Very good. Security will be informed. You'll need to bring proper identification."

"…I'll be there."

"Excellent. Thank you for your call, Mr. Everhart. We look forward to welcoming you."

The line went dead.

Merlin dropped the phone onto the bedspread and exhaled. His chest rose and fell, his pulse still hot.

He'd done it.

It was real now. He wasn't just an invisible number on their financial spreadsheets anymore. Tomorrow, he'd stand in front of the wolves.

He dragged a hand through his hair, letting his head fall back against the wall. A tired laugh escaped his throat. "A damn shareholder meeting. Out of everything I thought I'd be doing here…"

His eyes drifted to the suit bag again. Sharp lines. Clean cut. No armor, no sword. But it was still a weapon of its own kind.

A weapon he'd need.

'No one knows who I really am. They don't know my age, my face, nothing. That's the only edge I've got… but it can cut both ways.'

If they saw him as weak, as young, they'd crush him. But if he played it right, if he walked in not as a boy but as someone they couldn't quite measure, then maybe, just maybe, he could turn it to his advantage.

The door creaked.

Merlin's head snapped up. Victoria shuffled into the room, hair a mess, blanket still half-wrapped around her shoulders. She squinted at him, then at the suit bag, then at his phone glowing faintly on the bed.

"…Why are you awake? And why does it look like you're planning a bank heist?" she muttered, yawning.

Merlin smirked faintly. "Not a heist. Just business."

Her eyes narrowed. "…Business? You? Don't joke with me, Merlin."

He stood, brushing past her with deliberate calm, the garment bag in hand. "Tomorrow I've got a meeting. Important one."

Victoria blinked after him, confused. "…Meeting with who?"

Merlin glanced over his shoulder, golden eyes sharp. "…Invoke."

And he left her standing there, half-asleep and wide-eyed, as the city's morning light caught the steel threads of his new life.

The city stretched around him like glass and steel grown from the bones of giants. Morning light caught on the skyscrapers, spilling down in sharp angles that cut across the streets.

Carriages powered by mana cores hummed along the avenues, taxis weaving quick between them.

Merlin's reflection flickered faintly in each window as he passed. Black suit. Crisp shirt. Tie pulled sharp against his throat. His golden eyes stood out too vividly against the otherwise neat image, a glint of something untamed beneath the polish.

'Not a warrior today,' he thought, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket. 'Not a student either. Just another name on the list.'

But his heartbeat betrayed him. Each step closer to the building felt heavier.

Invoke Tower loomed ahead.

It rose like a spear, a hundred floors of silver and black glass, its surface catching the sun until the whole structure glowed.

The company's emblem, an angular sigil shaped like a weapon blade encircling a gear, was etched high across its face.

Even knowing it from the novel, seeing it in reality pressed something strange into Merlin's chest.

He slowed, boots crunching lightly on the polished stone of the plaza. Businessmen and women in tailored suits streamed toward the entrance.

Assistants with datapads, secretaries hurrying with clipped steps, guards in sleek black uniforms scanning the flow with cold eyes.

No one looked twice at him.

And yet, he felt as if every eye were sharp enough to cut.

The glass doors slid open at his approach. Cool air poured out, carrying the faint sterile scent of mana-cooled stone and polished steel.

Inside, the lobby stretched wide, its ceiling a dome of transparent crystal that let sunlight flood down like a holy glow. Runes shimmered faintly across the walls, humming with wards against intrusion.

And at the far end, reception. A long desk of black marble, behind which three women in navy suits managed a stream of arrivals.

Merlin's pace didn't falter.

'Confidence. That's all they'll see.'

His shoes tapped sharp against the floor as he crossed the lobby. Conversations dipped slightly around him, as if some invisible ripple moved through the crowd.

One of the receptionists glanced up. Her gaze caught his, just for a moment. Golden eyes. Too bright. Too direct.

She straightened.

"Welcome to Invoke Industries," she said as he reached the desk. Her voice carried the polished rhythm of someone trained never to falter. "Do you have an appointment?"

Merlin slid his phone across the marble. The message confirming his attendance glowed bright on the screen.

"Merlin Everhart," he said simply.

The woman's eyes flicked down, then widened, just a fraction. Enough that she quickly schooled her expression back into neutrality. Her hands moved swiftly across her console.

"…Yes. Mr. Everhart. Your attendance has been logged." She glanced at him again, as if trying to reconcile the name with the face. "…Security has been notified. Please wait a moment."

Merlin nodded once, sliding the phone back into his pocket. He didn't sit. He didn't look away.

Moments later, two guards approached, tall, broad-shouldered, clad in black with silver insignias across their chests. Their eyes scanned him, sharp and assessing.

"Mr. Everhart?" one asked, his voice flat.

Merlin met his gaze. "Yes."

The guard inclined his head. "This way."

They led him across the lobby, past the curious glances of executives and staff. An elevator waited, its doors gleaming like liquid steel.

Merlin stepped inside. The guards remained outside.

The doors slid shut.

Silence filled the capsule. Only the faint hum of mana-crystal machinery pressed against his ears.

A screen flickered alive on the wall. Words etched themselves across it.

Destination: Board Level

Verification: Merlin Everhart — 8.02%

Merlin's jaw tightened faintly. 'So it begins.' The most update n0vels are published on novel⁂fire.net

The elevator rose.

The boardroom wasn't like he remembered from the book.

It was worse.

A long table of dark stone stretched across the chamber, carved with inlaid silver lines that pulsed faintly with mana. The walls were glass on three sides, overlooking the sprawl of the city below. Light poured in, cutting across the room in sharp angles.

Twelve chairs. Eleven occupied.

Men and women in their forties, fifties, sixties, some sharp as razors in their suits, others radiating the old weight of money that didn't need polish. Their eyes were blades, their voices low as they spoke among themselves.

At the far end of the table sat a man with hair like burnished steel, his jaw square, his suit immaculate. The chairman.

Every gaze turned when the door opened.

Merlin stepped through.

The silence pressed.

He could feel it, the way they measured him in an instant. Too young. Too unfamiliar. A stranger who had no place here.

Merlin's stride didn't falter. He walked the length of the table, each step steady, and slid into the only empty chair.

Not at the head. Not at the foot. At the side, eight percent carved into flesh.

The silence stretched. Then the chairman leaned back, steepling his fingers.

"…So." His voice was smooth, heavy with authority. "The ghost has decided to show his face."

A few faint chuckles rippled among the board. Not mocking. Not yet. Testing.

Merlin's golden eyes swept the table once, unflinching. "You've been making decisions with my stake like it's your plaything. I don't like ghosts pulling my strings. So here I am."

The words landed. Clean. Unapologetic.

One of the women, her necklace heavy with gems, her smile razor-thin, tilted her head. "Mr. Everhart, is it? How curious. We'd all assumed you were… older."

"Age doesn't change numbers," Merlin said. "Eight percent is still eight percent."

A faint hum of voices stirred at that, like a ripple across the table.

The chairman's eyes narrowed slightly. Not hostile. Measuring. "Confidence. I'll grant you that."

Merlin leaned back, fingers laced together, calm despite the way his chest pounded. "…Confidence keeps wolves from biting before they should."

The man's lips curved faintly. Not a smile. An acknowledgment.

The tension shifted, subtle but real.

He wasn't dismissed. Not yet.

Merlin's gaze drifted to the city below, glittering in the morning light. He remembered the lines of the novel, the way Invoke's choices here would ripple outward into everything that followed. Wars. Weapons. Blood.

But he wasn't a reader anymore.

Now, he was at the table.

And he wasn't leaving it to chance.