The Extra's Rise
Chapter 648 - 648: Extraction (3)

The warmth of Master's lap beneath my cheek was exactly as I remembered it—comforting, safe, home. I closed my eyes and allowed myself this moment of perfect contentment, my violet hair spilling across his knees like moonlight. The familiar scent of him, that unique combination of strength and gentleness that was purely Arthur Nightingale, filled my senses and made my chest tight with emotions I'd been carrying for so long.

'I've been good, haven't I?' The words had slipped out so naturally, so easily. Just like before, when I'd knelt beside his chair in this very study and made what I'd thought was such a selfish, embarrassing request. I remembered how my heart had hammered in my chest that day, how I'd been certain he would refuse, push me away, remind me of my place.

Instead, he'd surprised me. He'd known. Somehow, my wonderful, perceptive Master had understood exactly what I needed before I'd even finished asking. His hand had found my hair, fingers threading through the violet strands with such gentle care that I'd nearly wept from the simple joy of it. The way he'd petted me, stroked my hair while I knelt beside him—it had been everything I'd dreamed of and more.

That memory made warmth bloom in my chest even now. He'd called my request "honest" back then. Said there was nothing wrong with wanting comfort, with seeking the touch of someone who cared about me. But what I wanted now... what I truly wanted to ask for... that was so much more complicated.

'His heart.' The thought whispered through my mind like a prayer and a curse combined. That was what I really wanted, wasn't it? Not just these stolen moments of affection, not just the privilege of kneeling at his side. I wanted his love. I wanted to mean to him what he meant to me—everything.

But how could I ask for something so impossible?

I thought of the others, the ones who already held pieces of his attention. Princess Cecilia Slatemark with her brilliant tactical mind and powerful chaotic magic. Princess Seraphina Zenith, genius swordswoman. Princess Rachel Creighton, radiant and the future Saintess. And Rose Springshaper, the Marquis's daughter whose business acumen and fierce independence had earned his respect in ways I could only dream of.

Four remarkable women. Four who belonged in his world of politics and power, who could stand beside him as equals. What was I compared to them? A weapon. That's all I'd ever been, all I'd ever been trained to be. And not even a particularly impressive weapon anymore—my Master was far above me in strength.

The elevation to mid-Ascendant rank had changed me, yes. Made me stronger, more capable. But it hadn't changed the fundamental truth of what I was. I was good at killing things, at following orders, at serving without question. I wasn't a princess born to rule, or a brilliant businesswoman who could navigate the complexities of empire-building. I was just Reika, the assassin who'd been lucky enough to find redemption in Arthur's service.

'He deserves better than someone who can only offer devotion,' I thought, even as I treasured the feeling of being close to him. 'He deserves someone who can challenge him, inspire him, stand as his equal rather than kneeling at his feet.'

The rational part of my mind knew this. Accepted it, even. I should be grateful for what I had—his trust, his care, his protection. I should content myself with these moments and ask for nothing more. Perhaps I could request another head pat, or permission to sleep in his room when nightmares plagued me. Simple things. Safe things.

I opened my mouth to voice some lesser request, to ask for something appropriately modest for someone in my position. But before I could speak, Master's hand found my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze.

"Reika," he said softly, and there was something in his voice that made my heart skip. "Tell me what you really want."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I stared up at him, silver eyes wide with surprise and something very close to panic. How did he always know? How did he always see straight through to the heart of things I tried so desperately to hide?

"Master, I..." I started, then stopped, my courage failing me. "I don't know what you mean."

His blue eyes were steady on mine, patient but unyielding. "Yes, you do. And I think we both know it's not another head pat you're hoping for."

Heat flooded my cheeks. Of course he knew. This was Arthur Nightingale—the man who'd seen through my disguise as a lady's companion, who'd unraveled my carefully constructed lies with nothing but observation and intuition. Did I really think I could hide the depth of my feelings from him?

"I... I can't," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "It's not... I shouldn't..."

"Reika." His hand moved from my chin to cup my cheek, thumb brushing across my skin with heartbreaking gentleness. "Tell me."

The simple command, spoken with such quiet authority, nearly broke my resolve entirely. But the practical part of my mind rallied, throwing up every defense I'd carefully constructed.

"Master, you have four incredible women who care for you," I said quickly, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Princesses who can stand beside you as equals, who can help you build anything. And Rose, brilliant and capable and perfect for you in every way. What could I possibly offer that they can't? I'm just—"

"You're just what?" he interrupted, and there was an edge to his voice now that made me fall silent. "Just someone who's been by my side through everything? Just someone who's shown me loyalty and devotion that never wavers? Just someone whose happiness matters to me more than you seem to think it should?"

I blinked up at him, stunned by the intensity in his expression. "Master..."

"I know what you want to ask me, Reika," he said softly. "And I want you to know that whatever you're afraid of, whatever you think disqualifies you from deserving happiness... you're wrong."

The certainty in his voice made something crack open in my chest. All the careful walls I'd built, all the rational arguments about my place and worth, suddenly felt fragile as spun glass.

"I know you're afraid," he continued, his thumb still tracing gentle patterns on my cheek. "But I'm asking you to be brave for me. Just this once. Tell me what you really want."

The silence stretched between us, heavy with possibility and terror in equal measure. I could feel my carefully constructed restraint crumbling, piece by piece, under the weight of his patient attention.

"Your heart," I whispered finally, the words so quiet I wasn't sure he'd heard them. "I want your heart, Master. I want to love you the way I've always loved you, but... but more. I want to be more than just your weapon, more than just someone who kneels at your feet. I want..." My voice broke slightly. "I want to matter to you the way you matter to me."

The confession hung in the air between us like something fragile and precious. I kept my eyes fixed on his face, searching desperately for some sign of his reaction, terrified of what I might see there.

What I saw was a smile. Slow, warm, and so full of affection that it took my breath away.

"Reika," he said, his voice soft with something that sounded remarkably like wonder. "You beautiful, impossible woman. Did you really think I didn't know? Did you think I couldn't see how much you mean to me?"

Before I could process his words fully, his hand was threading through my hair, tilting my head up as he leaned down. His lips met mine in a kiss that was everything I'd dreamed of and nothing I'd dared hope for. Gentle at first, almost questioning, then deeper as I responded with all the desperate love I'd been holding back for so long.

When we finally broke apart, I was dizzy with joy and disbelief and a happiness so intense it felt like it might consume me entirely.

"I love you too," he murmured against my lips, and I thought my heart might actually stop. "I have for longer than you know."

I laughed then, or maybe sobbed—I couldn't tell the difference anymore. All I knew was that Arthur Nightingale, my Master, my everything, loved me back. And for the first time in my life, I felt truly worthy of standing in his light.

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