Extra To Protagonist

The train hummed faintly as it slipped through the city’s veins, the glass of its windows gleaming with the reflection of clouds.

Merlin sat near the back, half-leaning against the seat, half-lost in thought. The buildings outside blurred by, tall, modern, threaded with mana lines that pulsed like living arteries.

It was strange how quickly everything could return to "normal."

The academy’s noise. The same halls. The same small rivalries.

After the labyrinth, after the simulation, after gods, it felt almost too ordinary.

’...Maybe that’s a good thing,’ he thought, watching his reflection shift in the window’s tint. ’Maybe normal is what I needed.’

His phone buzzed again.

[Victoria]: You’re on your way, right? I made lunch. Don’t tell me you stopped somewhere.

[Merlin]: I didn’t. Train just left the academy station.

[Victoria]: Good. I swear, you’d survive a monster invasion but die because you forgot to eat.

[Merlin]: ...That’s oddly specific.

[Victoria]: Yeah well, you worry me.

[Merlin]: You worry too much.

[Victoria]: And you talk too little. Hurry up.

He smiled faintly. The tension in his shoulders eased a little.

Outside, the city stretched onward, its skyline scattered with floating platforms and mana lamps flickering in the wind. People moved with purpose, unaware of the boy on the train who wasn’t supposed to exist here.

When the train slowed, he stood, slipped his hands into his coat pockets, and stepped out into the late afternoon light.

The apartment smelled faintly of basil and something warm.

Victoria’s cooking.

She was already waiting, standing in the kitchen, her hair loosely tied, still in her work clothes. The sunlight poured across her back, turning the dust motes in the air into faint golden sparks.

"Took you long enough," she said, turning to face him with that mixture of irritation and relief that had become her usual greeting.

"I came straight here," Merlin replied. "Train was slow."

She crossed her arms. "You could’ve used that ridiculous wind magic thing to get here faster."

"Could’ve," he said simply, slipping off his coat. "Didn’t feel like it."

Victoria stared at him for a moment, then sighed. "...You’re impossible."

"Probably."

The table was already set, two plates, a pot of soup, and a loaf of bread still steaming. She motioned for him to sit, and he did. They ate mostly in silence, the kind that wasn’t awkward but lived-in.

After a while, she spoke. "So... you’re moving back into the dorms tomorrow?"

"Yeah." Merlin broke a piece of bread, nodding slowly. "They want all second-years in residence again. Probably for easier coordination."

Victoria frowned slightly. "You just got back from... everything. Can’t they give you some time?"

He gave a faint shrug. "Time’s not something the academy’s generous with. You know that."

"Still." Her eyes softened. "You’ve barely recovered. You don’t have to push yourself right away."

He looked down at his soup, watching the faint reflection ripple across its surface. "...I’m fine, Vic. Really."

"You always say that."

"And I always mean it."

She exhaled through her nose, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t press further.

A quiet settled again, this one heavier.

The kind of silence that said things neither of them wanted to say aloud.

After a while, Merlin stood and began clearing the plates.

"You don’t have to—"

"I know." He gave her a small smile. "But you always cook. It’s only fair."

That earned a small laugh. "You’re really bad at pretending you’re normal, you know that?"

"...I try."

He turned to the sink, sleeves rolled up, washing the dishes with slow, deliberate motions. It was grounding, almost absurdly so. After gods and death and systems, washing dishes felt like proof he was still human.

Victoria leaned against the counter beside him, arms crossed loosely, watching him.

"I’ll miss this place being quiet," she said softly after a while.

Merlin glanced over. "I’ll visit on weekends."

"Promise?"

"Yeah."

"You’re not just saying that because you think I’ll worry?"

He gave her a sidelong look. "...Maybe a little."

That got her smiling again, small, genuine, the kind that softened the entire room.

When the dishes were done, he wiped his hands, looked around the small apartment once, and finally said, "I should pack."

His room hadn’t changed much.

Bed still unmade, desk cluttered with books, half-finished notes sprawled across the floor. A faint layer of dust on the window sill, a reminder of how long he’d been gone before everything had returned to this quiet rhythm.

He knelt by the closet, pulling out his academy uniform first. The fabric was still perfectly pressed, Victoria had probably made sure of that. Then came the smaller things: training gloves, rune tags, a spare wind cloak, a few personal items that made the dorms feel less like a box and more like a place he could breathe in.

Every item he packed was a small echo of the world he’d found himself trapped in.

Every folded shirt, every sealed tag, a quiet reminder that this, all of this, wasn’t just a dream.

’A second year already,’ he thought, glancing at the academy emblem stitched on his cloak. ’Time doesn’t wait, even in a world that isn’t mine.’

He zipped the bag shut and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling.

The hum of the city filtered in faintly through the walls, cars, mana lifts, voices. Life. Normal life. The kind of sound he used to take for granted before all of this started.

His phone buzzed again.

[Elara]: You’ll be moving back in tomorrow, right?

[Merlin]: Yeah. Why?

[Elara]: Just asking. Maybe I’ll come help.

[Merlin]: I can handle packing.

[Elara]: I didn’t say I’d help with that. Maybe I just want to see you.

Merlin stared at the text for a long moment before his lips twitched upward.

[Merlin]: You’re direct today.

[Elara]: Don’t get used to it.

[Merlin]: ...Too late.

[Elara]: Then I’ll have to be less nice tomorrow. Goodnight, Merlin.

[Merlin]: Goodnight, Elara.

He set the phone down, still smiling faintly at his ceiling. Official source ıs 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩⁂𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢⁂𝔫𝔢𝔱