The Extra is a Genius!?
Chapter 80: The Assistant

Chapter 80: Chapter 80: The Assistant

The porcelain cup was still warm in his hand.

Noel set it back down on the saucer with deliberate calm, his expression unreadable, even as the aftershock of the Ashen Sigil’s activation lingered in the back of his mind.

Six seconds ago, he had taken a sip.

Now, the cup was untouched.

Across the desk, Professor Lereus continued as if nothing had happened.

"Someone with your profile could benefit greatly from this arrangement," he said smoothly. "And I imagine you wouldn’t mind a little early access to restricted material from the upper years."

Noel leaned back slightly in his chair, body relaxed, hands resting loosely on his lap.

Inside, he was anything but calm. He was cataloguing everything.

Lereus’s tone.

The temperature of the tea.

The fact that his eyes hadn’t drifted even once toward the cup since offering it.

’Whatever was in that tea... it wasn’t meant to help me. But it was disguised to look like it would.’

Noel allowed himself a faint smile.

"Becoming your assistant sounds... interesting."

Lereus’s violet eyes narrowed just a touch—not with suspicion, but with approval.

"Pragmatic. Good," he said, folding his hands over the desk. "Discretion and initiative—two qualities I value highly."

Noel nodded once.

’You really do value discretion, don’t you? Favorite word of the week, I imagine.’

But out loud, all he said was, "When do we start?"

Lereus reached for his own cup and took a slow sip, the steam briefly fogging the lenses of his glasses.

Then, casually, he glanced at Noel’s untouched drink.

"Not to your taste?"

Noel didn’t hesitate. "I’m more of a coffee person."

A beat.

Lereus chuckled softly, setting his cup back down.

"Bold. Fitting for you. I’ll be sure to prepare one next time."

Noel kept his expression neutral, the corner of his mouth twitching just enough to pass as polite amusement.

Inside, his thoughts were razor-edged.

’Whatever that was... it triggered the Sigil. That ring doesn’t act unless it senses real danger. Could’ve been a spell. Could’ve been poison. Doesn’t matter.’

He watched Lereus carefully now—not just his words, but the way he moved. How still his hands were. How perfectly paced every gesture felt.

’You don’t rush anything. That’s what makes you dangerous.’

"I have some excellent coffee at home," Lereus added casually. "Next time I see you, I’ll bring some."

Noel gave a small nod. "Appreciated."

The smile they exchanged was paper-thin.

And both of them knew it.

Lereus reached into a drawer and produced a sealed envelope, setting it between them.

"Nothing official yet. Just some preliminary tasks—sorting evaluations, reviewing spell performance reports, and prepping advanced material for the older years."

Noel took the envelope. "Understood."

"You’ll also have limited access to the restricted sections of the library, and may sit in on curriculum planning sessions. Naturally, confidentiality is expected."

’Yeah, sure.’

Lereus studied him for a moment longer.

"I don’t expect full loyalty. Only caution. And intelligence. Both of which you’ve shown."

Noel leaned forward slightly, enough to appear engaged without seeming eager.

"Then I’ll take the offer."

Lereus gave a brief, satisfied nod.

"Good. We’ll begin next week."

Another sip of tea. Another perfect movement.

"Let me know if your schedule changes. I’ll notify the council administration about your extended academic role."

’You wanted me close. I’ll find out why.’

Noel stood.

"Thanks for the tea, Professor," he said flatly, turning to leave.

"Any time," Lereus replied, that smile still hanging on his face like a mask.

The door clicked shut behind him.

The hallway outside Lereus’s office was quiet, the kind of silence that felt deliberate. Noel stepped out slowly, the door clicking shut behind him.

He exhaled through his nose, hand brushing against the ring on his finger.

The Ashen Sigil was cool now.

But he knew exactly what it had done.

’It saved me.’

And now?

’It won’t activate again for at least a month...’

That knowledge settled like a stone in his chest.

’One safety net. Gone, shit.’

He took a step forward, jaw clenched.

Before he could turn the corner, a figure blocked his path.

A faculty assistant. Pale robes, hands clasped, face unreadable.

"Mr. Thorne," she said evenly. "The Headmaster would like to see you. Immediately."

Noel blinked once.

Of course he did.

He gave a slow nod, suppressing the sigh clawing up his throat.

’Can’t catch a damn breath today.’

Ten minutes later, Noel stood once more before the towering oak doors of the Headmaster’s office. Unlike previous visits, there was no warmth in the air, no calm greetings waiting for him.

Just silence.

The assistant opened the door without a word, and Noel stepped inside.

Nicolas Von Aldros stood by the far window, arms crossed behind his back, posture sharp, gaze distant as he stared out over the academy grounds.

He didn’t turn.

"Shut the door."

Noel obeyed without question.

Only then did the Headmaster speak again—his voice low and solid.

"Tell me everything. No filters, no omissions. I want every detail."

Noel blinked.

That tone...

Something had changed.

’What the hell happened?’

He kept his posture relaxed, but his eyes sharpened.

"Is it about the rope?" he asked carefully.

Nicolas turned, his expression cold and heavy.

"It’s worse than we thought."

He walked slowly toward the desk, each step controlled.

"It wasn’t just demon-tainted. The traces we found—residual as they were—could only have come from someone extremely powerful."

Noel’s breath stayed even, but something deep inside him locked up.

"How powerful?"

Nicolas met his eyes.

"A demon of Adept rank. One close to Ascendant."

’No.’

’No, that’s impossible.’

’Demons of that level shouldn’t appear until Act III...’

Nicolas placed a thick, sealed folder on the desk but didn’t slide it forward.

"And there’s more," he said. "The residue had structure. Intent. It wasn’t left behind by accident."

"What kind of magic was it?" Noel asked, barely managing to keep his voice level.

The Headmaster didn’t blink.

"Blood magic."

The words landed like a weight.

Noel clenched his fists slowly at his sides.

"That’s a forbidden school," he said.

"One of the oldest. And one of the worst. Blood magic doesn’t just harm—it binds. Controls. Warps."

Noel thoughts were spiraling.

’They’re already here. Someone that strong... and they’re hiding in plain sight. Maybe even among us.’

His fingers brushed the ring on his hand again, even though he knew it was useless now.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked.

The room stayed heavy with silence for a few seconds after Noel’s question.

Nicolas finally moved, stepping behind his desk once more. He didn’t sit. His hands rested flat on the surface, as if anchoring himself.

"Keep investigating. Whatever you’ve found, whatever you’re following—don’t stop."

Noel nodded once. "I wasn’t planning to."

"But this..." Nicolas’s voice dropped slightly. "This has gone beyond the academy. If there’s a demon of that level involved, then this is no longer just a student matter. You’re walking into something deeper. And darker."

Noel said nothing.

The Headmaster’s gaze hardened.

"I’m giving you access to continue, but hear me clearly—do not put yourself in danger."

A pause.

Noel held his expression steady, lips pressed into a flat line.

Inside, his thoughts whispered back.

’If only I could do what you’re asking.’

But all he said was:

"Understood."

Nicolas seemed to watch him for a moment longer, as if trying to decide whether that answer was the truth.

Noel turned to leave, his footsteps soft against the stone as the door clicked shut behind him.

The hallway outside the Headmaster’s office was quiet, lined with mana lanterns casting a pale glow that did nothing to cut through the cold settling in his chest.

He walked slowly, but his thoughts weren’t.

’Blood magic... from a demon that strong? An Adept, nearly Ascendant?’

His hand brushed against the fabric over his chest, where the Ashen Sigil ring rested beneath his coat.

’It saved me once. And now I’ve got a month before I can rely on it again.’

He exhaled through his nose.

’Too early. Everything’s happening too early.’

He passed by a pair of students speaking in hushed voices, but the words didn’t register. His mind was too full—too sharp.

’Whoever’s behind this isn’t just strong. They are patient, precise and can hide very well.’

And now he was part of it.

Not by choice.

But because he had no other option.

He paused at the edge of the eastern stairwell, glancing through a tall arched window overlooking the academy.

Everything looked the same.

And yet nothing felt familiar anymore.

By the time Noel reached the outer gates of the academy, the sky had shifted to a pale gray, streaked with the colorless haze of late afternoon. The guards didn’t question his departure—his clearance as a member of the student council was enough to walk straight through.

The path down into the capital spread out before him. Cold wind pressed against his coat, but he didn’t slow his pace.

He had a destination.

And a memory from the novel.

There had been a shop. Barely mentioned. Tucked away behind lines of vague exposition and side character dialogue. The protagonist in the book had missed it completely.

Because he didn’t know how to trigger the event.

’To get in, you had to beat the shop’s owner at poker.’

But it wasn’t regular poker.

This version of the game responded to mana flow. It rewarded intuition, manipulation, and rhythm. You didn’t just play the cards—you played the table. The people. The magic in the air.

And the owner?

A half-drunk, one-eyed dwarf with the attitude of a war veteran and the memory of a god.

’If you beat him, the shop opens. If you lose, he forgets you came.’

Noel’s lips tugged into a faint, humorless smirk.

’Let’s see if I still remember the rules.’

He crossed a stone bridge leading into the older districts of Valon, following twisting alleys and unmarked corners, letting instinct guide him more than memory.

He wasn’t entirely sure how the game worked anymore.

But he knew this: it wasn’t about luck.

It was about control.

And he had every intention of winning.

Before disappearing into the winding alleys of Valon, Noel stopped just outside the city’s outer district, near a narrow stone arch that framed the snowy horizon.

He reached into his satchel, pulling out a small parchment and a charcoal pencil.

It wasn’t going to be a long message.

Just enough.

He scribbled down the essentials:

Elena, I need to step out of the academy for a few hours.It’s related to the disappearances and what we discussed.If anything happens—or if I don’t return by nightfall—check the tunnel system again. You’ll know what to look for.– N.

He folded the paper once, sealed it with a faint touch of mana, and whistled softly.

From the edge of the wall, a small gray messenger pigeon—academy-trained—fluttered down and landed on his forearm. It stared at him with a blank, mechanical stillness.

"To Elena von Lestaria," he said quietly.

The pigeon blinked once, took the note gently in its beak, and launched into the sky with a quiet flutter of wings.

Noel watched it disappear into the clouds.

’She’ll know what to do.’

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