The Extra is a Genius!?
Chapter 60: A Moment Between Storms

Chapter 60: Chapter 60: A Moment Between Storms

The sun had started to dip behind the western towers, casting long shadows across the stone floor of the academy’s main library.

The room, usually filled with soft murmurs and the shuffle of pages, was nearly silent now. Only the occasional flick of parchment and the quiet ticking of a clock filled the space.

Elyra von Estermont sat alone at a table near the upper-right alcove—one of the more secluded corners. A small stack of council reports sat at her side, alongside two thick volumes and a neatly ordered ink set. Her long black hair was braided, coiled over one shoulder like a silk rope. Her posture was straight, precise. Composed.

She hadn’t noticed him yet.

Or maybe she had and simply hadn’t looked up.

Noel stepped in through the side arch, eyes scanning the rows automatically.

He wasn’t looking for her.

Not really.

But there she was.

’Of course she’s working late.’

He paused for a breath, considered walking past.

Then her eyes flicked up.

No words.

Just a glance—and the tiniest lift of her brow, like she was saying: "Well?"

Noel didn’t smile.

But he moved.

He pulled out the chair across from her and sat, leaning back slightly, arms crossed over his chest.

Neither of them spoke.

The room didn’t need it.

Pages turned. Ink scratched. The clock ticked.

Neither of them had spoken in almost five minutes.

Elyra continued reading, her quill hovering beside a list of minor policy proposals regarding dormitory restructuring. Her focus was absolute—almost unnatural.

Noel watched the edge of the table for a moment.

Then said, flatly:

"You should rest too, you know."

Elyra didn’t look up right away.

When she did, it was slow and deliberate.

"Bold of you to say, considering your track record."

Noel leaned back in the chair, one leg stretched out under the table.

"Yeah, well. I’ve been lectured enough this week. Thought I’d try passing it on."

That earned him a quiet exhale.

Not quite a laugh.

Not quite not.

She set her quill down beside the paper.

"I rest when the work is done."

"And when is that?"

"You tell me. You’ve seen what I deal with."

Noel glanced at the reports stacked neatly on her side of the table.

Then at the second cup of tea sitting beside them—untouched, still faintly warm.

’Two cups. She brought one for herself... and one for whoever might sit across from her.’

’Or maybe she just expected me.’

He didn’t ask.

Instead, he looked her in the eye.

"If you break down, who’s supposed to keep the rest of them in line?"

Her expression didn’t change.

But her answer was quieter.

"That’s why I don’t."

Elyra picked up her quill again, but didn’t write.

She tapped the end against the corner of the page, eyes scanning the document without truly reading it.

Noel watched the movement, then glanced toward the shelves beyond her.

"I heard some students from Class C are petitioning to lower the physical standards for spellcasting trials."

Elyra gave a soft sigh through her nose.

"They’re convinced casting should be purely mental. Convenient how they ignore the part where collapsing mid-spell tends to kill you."

"Guess that’s a lesson they want to learn the hard way."

Her lips twitched slightly.

"Natural selection still works, even with mana."

Noel huffed, half-amused.

"You sound like you’ve already written your response."

"I have. Twice. One for the official record and one for when they escalate it."

"Efficient."

She finally looked at him again.

"You’re one to talk. You’ve been moving with military precision lately."

"Discipline. Or paranoia. Hard to tell sometimes."

There was a pause.

And then Elyra asked—not sharply, not pointedly, just... quietly:

"Why do you do it?"

Noel didn’t answer right away.

"Do what?"

"Push yourself like that. Always on edge. Always calculating."

He didn’t deflect.

Didn’t smirk.

Just shrugged slightly, voice flat.

"Because I know what happens if I don’t."

She looked at him for a moment longer, and this time, she didn’t hide the concern in her gaze.

"Has anyone ever told you that’s not sustainable?"

He leaned back again, gaze drifting up to the high arched ceiling.

"Yeah, you"

he silence that followed wasn’t awkward.

It was... deliberate.

Elyra tapped her quill once more, then finally set it aside for good. She sat back in her chair, arms folded loosely, and regarded Noel with a tilt of her head.

"Let’s make a deal."

He arched an eyebrow.

"Those don’t usually end well for me."

"This one’s harmless. I ask you a question, you ask me one. No pressure. No obligations to answer."

Noel studied her for a moment.

"Bored?"

"Curious."

He clicked his tongue once against his teeth, then nodded.

"Fine. One each."

She didn’t hesitate.

"Why do you always sit near the exits?"

He looked at her.

Deadpan.

"Because I like knowing I can leave whenever I want."

She hummed, quietly.

"Expected that. Still wanted to hear you say it."

He tapped a finger against the edge of the table.

"My turn."

She waited.

"Why do you never look surprised?"

This time, she actually smiled.

Just a little.

"Because I never am."

They held each other’s gaze for a beat longer than necessary.

Noel shifted slightly in his chair, now leaning on one arm. The stiffness in his posture had faded, replaced by something close to... comfort.

"Alright," he said. "Your turn."

Elyra didn’t need long.

"Why do you always act like you’re one bad day away from punching someone?"

Noel blinked once.

Then smirked.

"Because most days, I am."

Elyra shook her head slightly, amused.

"Honest, at least."

"You asked."

She nodded, conceding the hit.

"Your turn."

Noel didn’t rush.

"Why do you always bring two cups of tea when you study alone?"

She blinked.

Then glanced, briefly, at the extra cup on the table.

Still untouched.

Still warm.

"Because someone always ends up sitting across from me."

He didn’t respond to that.

Didn’t have to.

She slid the second cup toward him without a word.

He took it.

Sipped once.

Didn’t comment on the flavor.

Just looked at her.

"Your turn."

Elyra studied him carefully, eyes sharper now.

Then asked, more curious than accusing:

"Why haven’t you asked about my background yet?"

Noel raised his cup slightly, like offering a silent toast.

"Because you are pretty famous already."

She exhaled—something between a sigh and a quiet laugh.

And the silence that followed wasn’t empty.

It was shared.

The candlelight flickered softly on the polished wood between them.

Noel leaned back just slightly, letting the quiet settle for a moment before speaking again.

"Alright," he said. "Second round."

Elyra didn’t hesitate.

"What’s the first thing you notice about someone?"

He raised an eyebrow. Then answered without thinking.

"What’s the first thing you notice about someone?"

"The figure, I guess. It’s the first thing the eye catches."

"Why?"

"Because it tells me how they want to be seen... and how much of that is fake."

He took a sip of the tea she’d given him.

"Your turn," she said.

Noel thought for a moment, then:

"When do you lie?"

That made her pause.

Then she met his gaze.

"When the truth would cost more than the result is worth."

Noel held her stare for a second.

Then gave a short nod.

"Smart."

"Necessary," she corrected.

A beat of silence passed.

Third round.

Elyra tapped her finger once against the cup, thoughtful.

"What scares you?"

Noel didn’t look away.

Didn’t fidget.

Didn’t smile.

"...Not knowing what I’m supposed to do next."

Elyra’s eyes narrowed slightly—not judgmental. Just... focused.

Like that answer had opened something.

He didn’t let it linger.

"Your turn."

She tilted her head.

"Do you believe people can change?"

He didn’t answer immediately.

Then:

"Yes. But not for free."

Elyra studied him a moment longer.

Then she leaned back in her chair, the corners of her mouth barely curved.

"Fair enough."

They sat in the quiet again, both of them looking at everything except each other for a few seconds.

But neither of them stood up.

Neither wanted to yet.

The windows had darkened.

Outside, the garden lights flickered to life one by one, casting pale blue glows across the stone paths. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled low—still distant, but approaching.

Elyra checked the time, then quietly closed the book in front of her. She moved with unhurried efficiency, gathering her papers into a neat stack.

Noel stood at the same time, arms stretched briefly behind his back before letting out a low breath.

They didn’t speak for the first few steps, walking side by side toward the library’s exit.

Just as they reached the doors, Noel broke the silence.

"It’s late."

Elyra gave a quiet hum of agreement.

"I know."

Noel glanced at her from under his hood.

"You should rest. Looks like you’ve been at it for hours."

She arched a brow at him.

"I’m the one who said that to you earlier."

"Exactly. Apply it to yourself."

She gave him a sidelong glance, almost amused.

"So this is you being considerate?"

"Don’t get used to it."

A light drizzle had started outside—fine and cold, brushing against the stone as they stepped into it.

They didn’t hurry.

The silence between them wasn’t awkward.

It just was.

And for now, that was enough.