The Extra is a Genius!?
Chapter 63: Changing of the Guard

Chapter 63: Chapter 63: Changing of the Guard

The auditorium was full.

More than four hundred students sat facing the stage—rows of pressed uniforms, family crests stitched on shoulders, whispers moving like wind through the crowd. Some exchanged quiet notes. Others leaned over to murmur predictions. Most just waited.

Noel sat in the upper third of the hall, slightly slouched, arms crossed, watching without expression. Roberto sat next to him, head tilted, lazily fidgeting with a charm tied to his belt.

Then the lights dimmed.

And silence followed.

From stage right, a tall girl stepped forward. Short blue hair, navy eyes, uniform cut sharp and precise. She didn’t smile.

Myriel von Astralis.

President of the Student Council. Two years at the top. Uncontested.

She stepped up to the podium—a structure of polished blackwood inlaid with silver runes—and let the silence breathe before speaking.

"I’ll keep this short."

A few chuckles from the front rows.

"The past two years have been good—not easy, not perfect, but still... good."

She looked out over the crowd, steady and confident.

"I’ve served through monster incursions, political visits, rule changes, and more than a few noble tantrums."

That earned more laughter.

"But next year will be my last at this academy. Which means it’s time to step down and let someone else lead."

She paused.

Noel leaned forward slightly.

"As of today, the path to the council presidency is open. The election begins now. If you think you’re ready, stand up. If you think someone else should lead, support them. That’s how we move forward."

Her voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to.

"Good luck. Don’t screw it up."

She stepped away from the podium, leaving behind only silence and possibility.

The room began to stir.

Noel didn’t move.

’And here we fucking go.’

The room hadn’t settled yet.

Whispers spread like ripples on water—names, predictions, nervous laughter. A few students looked toward the elite rows where the noble heirs usually sat, waiting to see who would move first.

Dior of Valor didn’t hesitate.

He stood from his seat in the center-left aisle, straightened his dark red coat with one clean motion, and walked toward the stage with practiced grace.

Students watched in silence as he ascended the steps and turned to face the crowd, just a few steps beside Myriel, who stood with her hands behind her back, observing.

Dior placed one hand over his chest.

"Good morning, everyone."

His voice was smooth—clear, calm, and perfectly measured.

"Most of you know who I am. For those who don’t: I am Dior of Valor. And I intend to serve as your next council president."

There were no gasps, no signs of shock. Only the low murmurs of a truth everyone had already suspected.

He continued.

"Our academy is built on discipline, structure, and the legacy of those who came before us. We stand where we are because of tradition—and because we respect the strength that holds us together."

He scanned the room.

"As president, I will reinforce that strength. I will protect the order that allows all of us to grow, to compete, and to represent our houses and nations with pride."

He bowed his head slightly.

"Thank you."

And just like that, he stepped back.

Some applause.

Strong among the nobles. Polite among the rest.

Dior walked to the side of the stage, composed, hands folded behind his back.

Then, a second figure stood.

Noel didn’t need to lean forward to see who it was.

Seraphina.

She walked alone down the center aisle—straight, tall, shoulders relaxed, presence heavy without being loud.

Her cloak was deep violet trimmed in silver, her crest woven into the collar. Her boots made no sound on the stone.

She stopped at the center of the stage and faced the room. No bow. No introductions.

"I am Seraphina of Valor. And I, too, will run for president."

No murmurs this time.

Just attention.

Her voice was calm, but sharper than Dior’s. More controlled.

"I will not offer promises of tradition. I respect our history, but I don’t serve it."

A pause.

"My duty is to the academy. To its students. To every one of you."

She looked across the tiers.

"Human or not. Noble or not. Name or not. If you work to improve this place—we will improve it together."

Silence.

Then one hand clapped.

Then another.

And suddenly the sound grew—not polite applause, but something heavier. Real.

Noel didn’t clap.

But he nodded to himself.

’She’s already winning. That’s good—should mean less work for me from now on.’

main courtyard like a wave held too long.

Chatter erupted instantly.

Groups formed fast—nobles, commoners, foreign-born students, quiet observers. The atmosphere buzzed with speculation and instinctual realignments.

"Of course Dior’s running."

"He’s basically guaranteed."

"Seraphina said ’all of you.’ She meant it."

"She’s serious. Did you hear her tone?"

Noel stepped out into the sun with Roberto beside him, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.

"I’m calling it now," Roberto said. "Dior’s going to win the nobles by a landslide."

Noel didn’t answer.

’No shit, Sherlock.’

He watched two second-year students—both beastkin—talking with hopeful urgency. Another group near the fountain argued quietly, one of them glancing nervously in Dior’s direction.

"...and if he gets elected, half the school’s going to end up locked under tradition again."

From behind a marble column, a pair of third-years whispered to one another:

"I heard Dior’s already secured most of the House-backed votes."

Noel turned his head slightly.

Seraphina had exited after Dior, speaking with no one, her assistants trailing just behind. She didn’t look smug. Didn’t look uncertain either.

’She came prepared.’

In contrast, Dior stood under the arch of the eastern wing, already surrounded by nobles shaking his hand, clapping him on the shoulder, congratulating him like it was already over.

The student council chamber was quiet, its long table empty but for a few sealed scrolls and the flickering amber glow of suspended lanterns.

Myriel von Astralis stood by the window, hands clasped behind her back, watching the students disperse from the courtyard below.

Elyra entered without ceremony.

The door clicked shut behind her.

"You wanted to speak?"

Myriel turned slightly, just enough to glance at her over her shoulder.

"I wanted to ask what you think."

"About the candidates?"

Myriel nodded.

Elyra walked to the far side of the table, fingers brushing over the polished surface as she moved.

"You’re not going to endorse anyone."

It wasn’t a question.

Myriel confirmed it with a quiet exhale.

"I’m stepping out. That means stepping back."

She paused.

"But you... you’re still here."

"You want my opinion?"

"I want your instinct."

A pause.

Then, Elyra smiled—just slightly.

"I already know who I’m supporting."

Myriel turned to face her fully now, one brow lifted.

"That so?"

"It is."

"And?"

Elyra met her gaze without blinking.

"It’s a secret."

Myriel gave a soft laugh through her nose.

"Of course it is, the Elyra special right there."

Elyra stepped away from the table, pacing slowly as she spoke.

"You know that titles from the outside have never mattered here at the academy. That’s why I supported you half a year ago when I first arrived."

She looked back over her shoulder.

"What matters here is what you do, not where you come from."

"So you’ll support whoever protects what the academy stands for."

"Something like that."

"Do you think the others will support them too?"

"They supported you for two years. Why not do it again—with someone else?"

Elyra smirked faintly.

"They always do. Eventually."

The western wing hallways had mostly cleared out.

Classes hadn’t started yet, but the students had already dispersed, trailing groups and voices behind them. Noel and Roberto walked toward the dorms at a steady pace, neither in a rush.

Roberto broke the silence first.

"I don’t like Dior."

Noel glanced sideways.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Feels like he wants to change how the academy works. And not in a good way."

Noel nodded once, no hesitation.

"I agree. I don’t like him at all. We all know that if Dior wins, anyone without wealth or noble blood would either be pushed out of the academy or find it impossible to stay."

Roberto grinned.

"Then I guess I know who you’re voting for."

"Probably the same person you are," Noel said. "But we’ll need to keep an eye on him. See what he’s planning."

Roberto raised an eyebrow.

"You know the prince that well? Thought this was your first time seeing him."

Noel let out a slow breath, lips curling slightly.

"If only you knew. He’s not someone I care to trust, that’s all."

"Then I’ll follow that gut of yours. Doesn’t sit right with me either."

They walked a few more steps in silence before Roberto shot him a glance.

"You planning something ’heroic’ again?"

Noel frowned.

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on. We both know you were the one who helped the most during the banquet attack."

Noel shook his head.

"Wrong. Marcus was the main hero. Him and his team. You know that."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say... ghost."

Noel didn’t laugh—but there was something close in the way he exhaled.

And as the dorm building came into view, his thoughts drifted.

’Well... I already chose to step into the story. So whatever happens next—let it come.’

The Hollow was cold that night.

Colder than usual.

Noel landed at the edge of the ravine just as the wind shifted, pushing fine dust across the ground like whispering ash. The sky above was starless, the cliffs on either side tall and jagged like broken teeth.

He rolled his shoulders.

His cloak was thrown onto a flat stone.

Boots dug into the cracked terrain where countless steps—his own—had already worn paths of repetition.

He drew Revenant Fang from his back.

The blade hummed—not a sound, but a weight, settling into his grip like memory.

And then it appeared.

Ten meters ahead, near the edge of the ridge.

The shadow.

Same as always.

Noel tilted his head.

"There you are again."

The shadow didn’t move.

Noel shifted the blade slightly in his hand.

"You never show up when anyone’s around. What’s the matter, shy?"

Silence.

He smirked.

"Yeah. No answer. I don’t know what I was expecting."

The wind howled between the rocks again.

Noel planted his feet.

"Alright then. Let’s get back to it."

The shadow moved.

And so did he.