Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra - Chapter 914: Scolded

Chapter 914: Scolded

“Enough.”

It wasn’t raised, but it carried. Selenne didn’t need volume to command attention; her tone had the precision of glass sliding into place, sharp enough to be felt.

She stepped forward, her robe brushing the stone as she moved into the space between Lucavion and the nobles, her gaze sweeping the gathered students.

“I’ll remind all of you,” she began, “that any fight conducted without informing the Academy is a violation of policy. Penalties are not light.”

Her eyes lingered briefly on the hands still near sword hilts.

“Even escalating toward one is punishable. Whether you call it a duel, a ’lesson,’ or anything else—it is still misconduct. And on the first day?” A faint lift of her brow. “That would be a spectacular way to begin your record here.”

Some of the tension bled out of the crowd, but not all. Pride was a stubborn thing.

Selenne’s gaze moved over Lucien’s companions, then to Lucien himself.

“I will overlook this one,” she said, each word deliberate, “because it is the first day.”

One of the nobles behind Lucien frowned. “What about him?” He gestured sharply toward Lucavion. “He was the one insulting me!”

A few of the others voiced agreement, their irritation sharpening now that the moment for actual steel had passed.

Lucien’s smile returned then—gentle, radiant, and polished to perfection. “I do agree, Archmage,” he said, voice warm enough to almost mask the undertone beneath it. “If there is to be oversight, it should be… balanced.”

That undercurrent of expectation hung in the air—Lucien wasn’t raising his voice or giving an order. But he didn’t have to. The suggestion alone carried weight.

Selenne inclined her head once, accepting Lucien’s words without letting them weigh heavier than they should.

“Very well,” she said evenly. Her gaze shifted, finding Lucavion with unerring precision. “The same applies to you. In the Academy, everyone—professor, noble, or commoner—is expected to choose their words with care. Reckless speech is as dangerous as reckless action.”

A few murmurs rippled through the gathered students at the public admonishment, though Lucavion’s expression barely flickered.

Lucien stepped in smoothly, his tone still carrying that gentle, princely cadence. “This is an academy, not a place for thugs to run rampant.”

Lucavion’s black eyes slid toward him, slow and deliberate. “Oh… last time I checked, it was the thugs who cut other people off and rounded on them. But maybe…” His smile tilted, not wide, but edged just enough to draw focus. “…the definition of ’royals’ is different?”

A beat of silence followed, taut as a pulled wire.

Lucien’s lips curved just slightly, though his eyes didn’t soften.

“…”

“Lucavion.” Selenne’s voice cut clean through the pause.

“Yeah, yeah… my bad, damn…” He leaned back against the pillar again, hands sliding into his pockets. “Nowadays, you can’t even talk…”

Selenne’s tone sharpened, the precision in her voice leaving no room for misinterpretation.

“Lucavion.”

This time, there was no casual dismissal in her delivery—just a note of command that pressed into the air.

The boy exhaled a long, theatrical sigh. “…Fine.” His shoulders slouched in exaggerated defeat as he went quiet, eyes drifting away from Lucien and the cluster of nobles without another jab.

Satisfied enough to end the spectacle, Selenne turned on her heel. She had no interest in dragging the exchange further, and judging by the faint stiffness in Lucien’s posture, neither did the other side.

The knot of tension unraveled with her departure, conversations starting up again in low murmurs as the two groups eased apart.

She knew exactly what Marcus and Marisse were doing—just as they had in previous years—staking their ground in front of the new students, reminding them where the influence lay.

It was a predictable performance, one she was long accustomed to ignoring.

But this time, the dynamic had shifted.

This time, there was Lucavion.

She should have been relieved. The boy’s antics had redirected some of that establishing glare away from her. With his temperament, he’d become their new point of focus soon enough.

Yet the thought didn’t sit well. Selenne wasn’t in the habit of letting her own comfort come at the expense of a student’s year turning into open season.

She slowed just enough to glance over her shoulder. “Student Lucavion.”

Lucavion’s head tilted slightly at the sound of his name.

When his black eyes met hers, there was no trace of the earlier smirk—only that unreadable stillness, as if he were quietly weighing what she might say next.

Selenne didn’t look away. Her voice was calm, but the edge beneath it was unmistakable.

“After the orientation,” she said, each word deliberate, “you will come to my room.”

The faintest shift passed through the gathered crowd, like the ripple before a stone breaks the surface.

Some of the students—especially the nobles who’d been on the receiving end of Lucavion’s barbs—let out low, quiet laughs. It wasn’t loud enough to be openly disrespectful, but it carried the satisfaction of seeing the provocateur finally pulled up short.

Lucavion’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he gave a short, almost careless nod.

“…Sure.”

Selenne let the word hang for half a beat, then turned from him, her cloak catching a faint sweep of air as she moved.

“Follow,” she said, her voice carrying easily over the subdued chatter.

The freshmen fell back into step behind her, the tension of the confrontation bleeding away in slow waves, though the glances traded among them promised the scene would be retold before the day was done.

******

Before Selenne had even led them more than a dozen paces, Selphine’s voice broke the quiet in a low, knowing murmur.

“He’s done it again.”

Elara glanced at her, catching the faint smirk tugging at the corners of her friend’s mouth.

“Lucavion?”

“Who else?” Marian cut in, arms folded. “Yesterday, Crown Prince Lucien. Today, Professors. If there’s a higher target tomorrow, he’ll find it.”

Riven gave a dry laugh. “Maybe the Headmaster’s cat. I hear it’s territorial.”

“That’s not the point.” Selphine’s tone sharpened just enough to draw their attention. “You’re missing what’s right in front of you—the teachers. Did you see the look between Selenne and Marcus? That wasn’t professional courtesy. That was…” She searched for the right word. “…personal history. And not the pleasant kind.”

Cedric nodded slightly. “It’s not just Marcus. Marisse didn’t look too fond of her either. That’s two prominent professors in one morning. Not exactly the sort of network most faculty want to build.”

“Which,” Aurelian added, glancing toward Selenne’s straight-backed figure ahead of them, “makes Lucavion’s timing… interesting. He stepped in right when they were setting the stage.”

Lysa raised an eyebrow. “You think he’s doing it for her?”

“Not necessarily for her,” Cedric replied, his voice low. “But his interference shifted their focus off her, at least temporarily. It’s the kind of move that forces people to reevaluate their approach—keeps them from pressing too hard right away.”

Marian huffed. “Or it’s the kind of move that gets you hauled into her office after orientation.”

“Both can be true,” Cedric said simply.

Elara stayed quiet, her mind still playing back the way Selenne had stepped between them—precise, deliberate, almost surgical in how she’d cut the moment apart. The tension between her and Marcus had been subtle, but not invisible. A lingering weight behind every measured word. She could almost feel the history there, the way Marcus’s eyes had tracked Selenne with more than simple professional disapproval.

“Either way,” Selphine continued, “it’s worth remembering—faculty politics are their own battlefield. And if what I’ve heard is true, Marcus and Selenne have been circling each other for years. Lucavion just wandered into that ring without even flinching.”

“Or without even realizing,” Riven suggested.

Selphine gave him a look. “Oh, he realizes. That guy doesn’t look like he moves without purpose, no matter how careless he acts.”

Before Selphine could add anything else, Selenne’s voice called from ahead, crisp and unmistakable.

“Follow.”

It wasn’t loud, but it carried over the murmurs like a taut string snapping. The boy, who had been lingering near the rear of the group with the sort of loose-limbed defiance that dared someone to tell him otherwise, gave a long-suffering sigh loud enough for several students to hear.

“And you, student Lucavion. Return to the group.”

“Yes, yes…” he muttered, peeling himself off the wall he’d been leaning against. His steps were unhurried, almost lazy, yet somehow he closed the distance without ever seeming to rush.

By the time they were moving again, Elara had returned her attention to the path ahead—until a shadow fell alongside her.

She glanced sideways and nearly started; Lucavion was suddenly there, matching her pace as if he’d been walking next to her the entire time.

“…”

“Yo…”