The Extra is a Genius!?

The dining hall was elegant in a restrained, elven way—white stone walls veined with soft green lines, golden accents on the tall arched windows, and a polished silver chandelier above the long table. The air was calm, and the servants had already finished serving the food. There was no noise except for the occasional clinking of cutlery.

Everyone was seated.

Albrecht Thorne sat at the head of the table, as expected. To his right was Serina, and to his left, Lady Mirelle. On the sides closest to him sat Kael, Damon, Livia, and Sylvette.

Noel sat farther down the table, alone at the end. The distance wasn’t dramatic, but it was intentional—clearly arranged to maintain the image of inclusion while keeping him apart. It suited him just fine.

From where he sat, he could see the family engaging in polite conversation. They were smiling, laughing at minor jokes, talking like this was any other evening. Nothing had changed—and yet everything had.

Lady Mirelle turned her head toward her sons with an air of practiced elegance.

"So, Kael, Damon... how did the military academy treat you two?" she asked, her tone light, but genuinely curious. "Your letters were always so brief."

Kael gave a short nod, keeping his posture straight.

"It was intense," he admitted. "The training was... relentless."

Damon let out a faint breath, his voice quieter. "More than we expected. Discipline, drills, no special treatment for nobility."

Mirelle smiled, though a trace of concern passed through her features. "Well, I’m glad it shaped you into proper men."