The Extra is a Genius!?
Chapter 56: Quiet Mornings and Restless Nights

Chapter 56: Chapter 56: Quiet Mornings and Restless Nights

Noel woke slowly.

The air was warm and still, the faint light of a desk lamp casting a soft golden hue across the old wooden floor and shelves. It took him a moment to remember where he was.

The couch.

The quiet room.

Her.

He blinked, then tilted his head slightly.

Elyra was asleep.

Her head leaned gently against the back of the couch, one hand resting loosely in her lap. Her long black hair had come undone from its usual braid and now fell freely over her shoulder, strands curling slightly where the light touched them. It framed her face in a way that softened the edges, revealing sharp cheekbones, calm features, and the calm, unbothered elegance that followed her even in sleep.

Noel didn’t move.

He just watched her, eyes tracing the lines of her face, the way her chest rose in quiet rhythm, the curve of her lashes over closed eyes.

’So she can actually sleep.’

He almost smiled.

Almost.

Then, without warning, her eyes opened—slowly at first.

Clear gray. Focused. Unmistakably sharp.

And then came the voice—soft, dry, amused.

"Am I that pretty?"

Noel froze.

His mouth opened—then shut.

"Y-yes—no. I mean... yes. Sorry. For... staring that hard at you."

Elyra blinked once.

Then smiled, just slightly.

"I’m not mad, you know?."

Noel sat up slowly, careful not to move too fast. The weight of the moment clung to his shoulders—not heavy, just... unfamiliar.

He didn’t look at her right away.

Instead, he rubbed the back of his neck, then adjusted the collar of his shirt as if it had betrayed him in his sleep.

"I, uh... and sorry for that," he muttered. "For falling asleep. On you."

Elyra tilted her head slightly, still watching him.

"I didn’t mind."

Noel swallowed.

’What the hell do you say to that? And she doesn’t mind??!! Since when that was a thing in the novel, she rejected any guy’s approach, even all the pretty guys and the Imperial prince.’’

He shifted on the couch, elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely. His eyes stayed fixed on the floor.

"And... thanks. I guess."

"For letting you collapse in front of someone who could use it against you?" she offered.

He glanced at her, cautious.

"Among other things, but because I could finally rest."

Elyra leaned back again, completely at ease, one leg crossed over the other.

"You’re welcome."

Noel ran a hand down his face.

The silence that followed wasn’t hostile.

It was just... strange.

Uncharted.

’This is ridiculous. I’ve faced monsters. Magic, most importantly death once. But this? Sitting next to a girl who looks like she stepped out of a painting?’

’Yeah. Sure. No problem.’

’Wait, why am I making a big deal out of this?’

His body was rested.

But his mind was scrambling.

And Elyra, of course, noticed every second of it.

She didn’t comment.

Elyra shifted slightly, brushing a few strands of hair over her shoulder as if nothing had happened. Her posture returned to perfect form—legs crossed, back straight, gaze forward.

Noel still sat with his elbows on his knees, fingers laced together. Less tense than before, but far from relaxed.

Elyra spoke first.

"Class S housing is almost complete," she said, tone light.

Noel blinked.

"...And why are you telling me that?"

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

"It might be useful to you."

That earned her a look.

"Useful how?"

She didn’t answer directly. "It’s not as big a deal as people think. Sure, the rooms have better security and a few extra comforts, but that’s about it."

"So no private pools or personal chefs bringing food to your room with a snap of your fingers?" he asked dryly.

"No," she said, lips twitching faintly. "Though someone did request a soundproof training hall."

"And let me guess. They’ll be separated from the rest of us?"

She shook her head once.

"They’ll still attend all the same classes as Class A, follow the same curriculum, same schedule—the only real difference, for now, is cosmetic."

Noel leaned back against the couch. He wasn’t sure why he was still listening, but he didn’t stop her either.

"You get that through council intel?"

She didn’t answer right away.

Then: "Of course."

He tilted his head slightly.

"You’re not just telling me this for fun, are you?"

"No. I’m also reminding you."

"...Of what?"

"The favor you owe me."

He blinked. "You still remember that?"

"I remember everything people owe me," she replied smoothly. "And I intend to use it."

His brow rose. "What is it, then?"

She gave him the faintest smile.

"That’s a secret."

Noel stared at her.

Then muttered, "I hate that."

"I know," she said simply.

And the conversation moved on like nothing had ever happened.

The clock on the wall ticked past nine.

Elyra stood without hurry, brushing imaginary dust from her uniform and adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. Her hair, still loose, had shifted back over her shoulders. She didn’t bother fixing it.

Noel watched her rise but said nothing.

She picked up her bag and moved toward the door, footsteps light against the wooden floor. Just before stepping out, she paused and glanced back over her shoulder.

"You need to take better care of yourself," she said, tone calm but unmistakably firm. "You’ve seen it now."

Noel didn’t answer.

He didn’t roll his eyes.

He didn’t make a sarcastic comment.

He just looked at her.

Something in his expression—tired, uncertain, focused—said he’d heard her. Really heard her.

And that was enough.

Elyra nodded once, then opened the door and disappeared into the hallway, leaving only silence behind.

Noel stayed there a moment longer.

Still. Quiet.

Then he stood, grabbed his coat, and began to prepare.

Elyra walked alone through the corridor, her steps echoing softly against the polished floor.

The halls were mostly empty now. Most students were in their rooms, studying or sleeping. The academy lights dimmed at this hour, leaving only ambient mana-lamps glowing faintly along the walls.

She didn’t slow down.

Not until she reached the far corner near the stairwell.

There, she stopped.

She leaned her back gently against the wall, arms folded, eyes closed.

Silence.

Noel’s weight still lingered faintly against her lap. The feel of his breath, steady and warm. The sound of his voice, tired and soft. The way he’d looked at her—without suspicion, for once.

’You must’ve gone insane.’

It wasn’t a statement.

It was the only explanation.

’This has never happened before.’

She exhaled slowly through her nose, but the tightness in her chest didn’t ease.

’Am I... in love?’

The thought hit like a stone in still water.

’No. That’s... absurd. That’s not real. Right?’

She opened her eyes, staring at the empty corridor ahead. Her heart wasn’t racing. Her breath wasn’t quickened. Her face was composed.

But the question remained.

And that—more than the silence, more than Noel himself—was what disturbed her.

The night welcomed him like it always did—quiet, cold, and waiting.

Noel moved through Varn’s Hollow with precision. No hesitation. No wasted motion.

His cloak barely rustled. His breath didn’t fog. Every muscle in his body responded as it should.

Tonight, he wasn’t tired.

He was ready.

The first kill came quickly—a Hollow Stalker that lunged from the ridge to his left.

Noel didn’t dodge.

He pivoted on the ball of his foot and whispered—

"Frost Wall."

The beast smashed into a rising plane of ice and cracked its own skull on impact. While it stumbled, dazed, Noel raised his hand again.

"Fireball."

The explosion lit the ridge in a brief bloom of red and white. When the smoke cleared, there was nothing left but scorched stone.

Two more came from the far slope—Devoralights, their thoraxes pulsing with corrupt mana.

Noel darted between them like smoke, launching Ice Spikes in rapid succession, pinning one to a boulder, the other to the ground. Before they could even shriek, he incinerated them both with a wide Flame Arc, severing their cores.

’Too slow. Need to chain faster.’

He adjusted his stance, eyes scanning the terrain as if it were a tactical puzzle instead of a battlefield.

More came.

Vein Crawlers, twitching and erratic—he froze their limbs before they reached him, then split them with clean vertical strikes of Revenant Fang.

Spined Howlers, massive and relentless—he used the terrain, kiting them into narrow passes and hammering them with overlapping spells until they fell twitching and charred.

His breathing never spiked.

His mana didn’t destabilize.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t need to.

The system pulsed faintly in the corner of his vision after the last kill of the night.

[Core Progress: 52.12% – Novice Core]

Noel exhaled once.

’Decent.’

He wiped blood—some of it his—off his glove, and turned back toward the exit route.

The Hollow still pulsed behind him.

But it no longer felt like it was swallowing him.

Now, it felt like his hunting ground.

’Also that I think about it, the Class S will have a lot of weight soon. Yeah... too soon perhaps’

Noel sat down to feel the chill breeze to catch a little of breath before going back.

Soon the Act II will be on going.