Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Chapter 752: Strange politics

“What are you doing? You think this is just another day? Another spoiled noble to half-dress and forget?”

The maid tried to stammer something—an excuse, a plea—but Jesse didn’t let her speak.

She leaned in slightly, just enough for the torchlight to catch the sharp edge of her expression.

“Do you really want to die?”

The room froze.

The other attendants stopped mid-motion, brushes and pins hovering like suspended spells. No one moved. No one breathed.

“Because if you keep doing this like you are,” Jesse went on, voice low, “you’ll lose more than your dignity.”

She released the maid’s wrist slowly—deliberately—but her gaze remained fixed. Her next words came with deadly calm.

“You’ll lose your heads.”

The room dropped several degrees colder.

She turned her attention across the others, her voice no louder, but far heavier.

“Sabotage me again—be it by order, mistake, or fear—and I will make sure none of you ever serve another noble house again. Ever breathe another word. I don’t care who gave you the order. You answer to me now. Is that clear?” Jesse asked, her tone still level—but the silence was brutal. Absolute.

For a moment, it held.

Then one of the maids—bolder, older—stepped forward, trembling only slightly as she spoke.

“What can you do?” the maid snapped, trying to force steel into her voice. “We were sent here by the mistress. This is the budget we were given. The gowns, the tools—everything. This is what you deserve.”

The slap came like thunder.

No delay. No hesitation. No mercy.

Jesse’s hand moved so fast it was barely seen, and the maid’s body was lifted off her feet. She slammed against the nearby table, crashing into a heap of cosmetic jars and scattered brushes. One of her teeth skittered across the floor. Blood painted the side of her jaw.

The room screamed into stillness.

Jesse didn’t move. Her voice didn’t rise. It dropped.

“Is that woman here right now?”

No one answered.

“I said—is that woman here right now?!“

Still, silence.

Then one of the younger maids, barely more than a girl, whispered, “…No.”

Jesse stepped forward, heels clicking softly against the polished stone, the echo more terrifying than a shout.

“Then what power does she hold in this room? What authority does she command here?” She let her gaze sweep over them, every word falling like a blade.

“I’m the one wearing the envoy’s sigil. I’m the one who will stand before the Empire tonight. And you—” her eyes locked on each of them in turn “—you’re the ones they’ll burn if I look like a ghost of a maid instead of a daughter of House Burns.”

Her voice turned razor-sharp. “So listen well. Either you do your jobs right, or none of you will return alive.”

Breaths shook. One of the maids dropped her brush. Another sank to her knees, hands trembling.

Then Jesse’s expression shifted slightly. Her voice curled into something darker. Contemptuous.

“She knew this might happen,” she murmured. “That this would tarnish the household’s name. But she still sent you here.”

A pause.

“She must’ve already arranged a scapegoat.”

Eyes widened. A few maids blinked rapidly, realization dawning.

Jesse let a soft, bitter laugh escape her lips.

“Heh… So that’s it. You were never supposed to succeed. Just stall. And burn for it later.”

The confusion on the maids’ faces twisted slowly—hesitation draining from their expressions like color from a candle’s flame. In its place came something else. Understanding. Agreement. Fear not of her—but of the trap they were already caught in.

Jesse could see it settle in their eyes like a dawning storm.

“She was never going to protect you,” Jesse murmured, voice smooth as ice. “You were the offering from the beginning.”

The silence was broken by a low, hoarse groan from the floor.

The maid Jesse had slapped struggled to rise, cradling her jaw with one trembling hand. Blood still trickled from the corner of her lip, and her eyes burned with desperation.

“Don’t… don’t believe her,” she croaked. “She’s bluffing. She—she’s not—”

But no one looked at her.

They were already turning back to Jesse.

“She knew it,” Jesse said, tone soft now. Almost bored. “You all saw it, didn’t you? Every little ’mistake.’ Every delay. The cheaper dress. The missing pins. She expected you to fumble it all. Expected someone to take the fall.” Her eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t have to be you.”

The room shivered again.

And then—

“We understand,” the eldest of the maids said, bowing her head, her voice steady. “We’ll do our jobs. Properly.”

Another followed suit. Then another.

Jesse said nothing—only watched them with eyes like frost.

She turned back to her seat, gesturing toward the untouched cosmetics and gowns with a flick of her fingers. “Then let’s begin, shall we? At the very least, you won’t be sacrificial lambs tonight.”

Chairs scraped softly against the stone. Brushes lifted. Pins clicked. The room moved with purpose now—no longer servants of a distant mistress, but soldiers obeying the will of the one who stood in the fire.

Only the wounded maid remained unmoved.

She tried to push herself upright. Failed.

Then—tried again, shakier, blood still on her teeth.

But the moment Jesse’s eyes landed on her—cold, precise, dismissive—her breath caught. Her limbs froze. Like prey under a predator’s gaze.

She stayed where she was.

The others never looked at her again.

And Jesse—she said nothing more.

She didn’t need to.

*****

Inside the old inn tucked between the stone merchant rows and the crystal-spire road, Selphine and Aurelian sat at their usual table, but something in the air around them was restless. The bread was fresh, the tea aromatic, and yet neither of them had eaten much.

Aurelian twirled a silver spoon idly between his fingers, eyes watching the slow dance of steam from his cup. “It’s real, isn’t it?” he murmured.

Selphine didn’t look up from the paper she was reading, but her lips curved faintly. “Which part?”

He chuckled. “All of it. We’re actually going. The Academy.” He leaned back, letting the words hang. “Strange feeling. You spend half your life imagining the gates, the marble halls, the magic arrays etched into the bones of the city—and then one day you wake up and realize it’s not a dream anymore.”

Selphine finally folded the paper and set it aside. “It’s strange,” she agreed. “But not unearned.”

Aurelian grinned, more wistful than proud. “Still feels surreal. Like I’m going to walk out there and someone will hand me a broom and tell me I was signed up for janitorial enchantments instead.”

Selphine lifted a brow. “If you don’t dress properly for the Banquet, I might volunteer you for it myself.”

“Spoken like a true noble,” he sighed dramatically. “All aesthetic. No mercy.”

She gave him a sharp little smile. “We are not walking into that hall like peasants who lucked into a festival. We’re walking in as Arcanis’ best. And I don’t intend to be mistaken for anything less.”

Aurelian chuckled again—until his eyes flicked toward the upper stairwell. The corridor to the rooms was quiet. Still no sign.

“Speaking of, where in the stars are Elowyn and Reilan?” he asked, glancing toward the innkeeper’s hallway. “They were supposed to be down half an hour ago. We need time to get ready.”

Selphine followed his gaze, her smile vanishing into something more thoughtful. “Still in their rooms, apparently. I asked the staff. Elowyn said she was almost done.” She paused. “Reilan hasn’t answered.”

Aurelian sighed. “Figures. He’s probably sulking into his collar about having to wear a cravat.”

“She’ll make sure he doesn’t show up looking like a battlefield,” Selphine said. “And if he does, it won’t be from lack of trying on her part.”

Aurelian tilted his head slightly. “You think it’s just about clothes?”

Selphine’s eyes narrowed slightly, just enough to betray that she’d considered the same thing. “No.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Elowyn’s been… steadier, lately,” Aurelian said softly. “But Reilan? He hasn’t looked her in the eye much since the exam ended.”

Selphine didn’t reply immediately. Her fingers tapped once against the table. Then twice. Then stilled.

“They’ll come,” she said.

“Dramatically late, no doubt,” Aurelian muttered, rising from his chair to stretch. “But I swear, if Reilan shows up with his tunic half-buttoned and that ridiculous scowl—”

“—you’ll fix it for him and act like you didn’t,” Selphine finished, coolly amused.

“…Yes. Obviously.”

The sunlight warmed the windowpanes, and outside, carriages were already beginning to gather on the crystal road—lined with banners of gold and sapphire.

Today was the Entrance Banquet.

The day the gates would open. The day the Academy would name them not as candidates, but as students.

And somewhere upstairs, the rest of their little quartet would join them soon.

Ready or not.

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