Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Chapter 1030: Beneath the Academy’s Seal

“You sound personally betrayed.”

“I am personally betrayed,” he said, indignant. “He didn’t use a single thing I taught him.”

She exhaled through her nose—the closest she ever came to laughing.

A subtle, almost imperceptible sound.

Kaleran caught it.

He grinned.

But the amusement faded a second later, replaced with something heavier.

“That’s why this oral exam worries me,” he said quietly. “Not because he’ll fail—but because he’s unpredictable. He doesn’t answer questions the way the Council expects. He doesn’t think the way nobles think.”

“That’s why this oral exam worries me,” Kaleran said quietly. “Not because he’ll fail—but because he’s unpredictable. He doesn’t answer questions the way the Council expects. He doesn’t think the way nobles think.”

Selenne’s gaze sharpened. “…Then I will be the one overseeing his exams.”

Kaleran blinked once. Slowly. “His exams?”

“Yes. His Oral Exam.”

Then, with the same calm precision: “And his Mana Control Trial in the Cultivation Chamber.”

Kaleran straightened, his mild expression slipping into something more serious. “Selenne… I cannot disclose the scheduling of a student’s trials. You know that.”

Her eyes narrowed—not harsh, but cutting in a way that made the air shift.

“By this point,” she said softly, “things are no longer bound by the rules.”

A silence landed—heavy, unspoken.

Then Kaleran exhaled. “…To that, I agree.”

He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “You may be able to conduct his Oral Exam. No one will object to you substituting yourself—quite the opposite, they’d probably be relieved. But changing his overseer for the Mana Control Trial…” His head tilted. “…That is trickier.”

Selenne didn’t move. “Explain.”

“Too many eyes,” Kaleran said. “Too much attention already on him. We don’t have a clear justification to remove the currently assigned examiner. The Council will push back, and the Tower…” He grimaced. “The Tower will assume interference.”

Her expression cooled further.

A breath.

Then another.

But before she could speak, Kaleran’s eyes unfocused for a heartbeat—like a thought had collided with him mid-sentence.

“Wait.”

He blinked.

“…His affinity test.”

Selenne looked up sharply. “What about it?”

Kaleran leaned forward, rifling through a stack of reports until he found a slate with a distinct indigo seal—the Rune Faculty emblem. He tapped it, mana flickering along the surface.

“His Affinity Test had… irregularities.”

He shook his head slowly. “No. Irregularities is too mild. His artifact didn’t just fail to read him—it negated him. The Rune overseer filed a null-read and summoned Professor Elir Varnen for manual recalibration.”

Selenne went still.

Completely still.

“…Negation?”

“Yes.” Kaleran rubbed his temple. “The artifact didn’t recognize his mana at all. No elemental threads. No core signature. It was as if the sphere was trying to read smoke.” He tapped the slate again. “And when they asked him to demonstrate manually…”

Her eyes lowered. “The black fire.”

Kaleran nodded grimly. “Yes. The black fire. Confirmed publicly.”

He gave a humorless laugh. “Which, may I remind you, also makes no sense for a null-affinity reading.”

Selenne’s thoughts flicked in razor-clean arcs.

’A void reading.’

’Black flame manifestation.’

’Inconsistent categorization.’

’A danger flagged but not understood.’

Kaleran continued, “Because of the null-read, and because he displayed an advanced flame afterward, Varnen filed a secondary reviewer request. Standard protocol for anomalous affinity results.”

“And?” Selenne asked.

“And,” he said with a small, tired smile, “that means his Mana Control Trial is already flagged for multi-faculty oversight. Two additional examiners must be present to verify that he was not cheating during the Affinity Test.” He folded his hands. “I can ensure you are listed as one of those examiners.”

Selenne’s eyes narrowed—calculating, thoughtful. “…Convenient.”

“Very,” Kaleran agreed. “It gives you legal grounds to be present without raising suspicion. They can’t argue with that. It’s regulation.”

Her voice lowered. “And you’re certain no one will block my involvement?”

Kaleran shrugged. “If they try, they’ll have to justify why the Academy’s foremost mage cannot oversee an unstable case flagged by the Rune and Affinity divisions.” A beat. “They won’t win that argument.”

Selenne nodded once.

Quiet.

Precise.

’So this is how far they’ve pushed things,’ she thought, fingers resting lightly on the chair’s arm. ’Sabotaged weapons. Rejected complaints. Null-reads. Black fire. An eighth exam. And now—eyes from the Tower.’

But that was not what bothered her.

What bothered her was the boy at the center of it.

The boy who walked out of a trial covered in burns he did not earn.

The boy who smiled at accusation like it bored him.

The boy who fought instructors and systems and expectations with the same weary amusement.

The boy the Academy was trying to break before he could stand.

Kaleran watched her rise, his expression softening.

“I’ll draft the notice,” he said. “By morning, it will be official.”

Selenne inclined her head slightly. “Good.”

She turned toward the door.

But before she opened it, she paused—her voice quiet, but holding the weight of a decision already made.

“I will not permit them to use this exam against him.”

The words hung in the air—quiet, controlled, carrying none of the heat Kaleran seemed to expect. And yet the intent behind them was unmistakable. Selenne did not raise her voice. She didn’t need to.

Kaleran exhaled—a sound of relief—but Selenne’s expression didn’t shift.

Her cloak fell around her in a silent sweep as she turned again for the door.

’Not that it means anything beyond practicality,’ she thought, smoothing a sleeve with precise, unhurried fingers. ’Just because the Academy is determined to target him doesn’t mean I’ll treat him any differently.’

Her lips tightened by a fraction.

’He’s still insufferable.’

The memory of his smirk—the one that seemed specifically engineered to test the limits of her patience—floated unbidden across her mind.

’If anything, the fact that he’s being targeted means I may have to be harsher on him. Bias is unacceptable—favorable or otherwise.’

A pause.

’Tomorrow will determine the appropriate level.’

She reached for the door.

“Ah—Selenne.”

Kaleran’s voice stopped her hand just shy of the handle.

She glanced back, eyes cool, one brow lifting in a silent question.

“You forgot to ask.”

“…Ask what?”

Kaleran tapped the edge of a parchment stack. “When his exams are scheduled.”

Selenne held still for a beat.

“…I did,” she admitted, though the words came as smoothly as if she’d meant to omit them. “When?”

Kaleran straightened two sheets with unnecessary care, his tone turning lightly formal—as though reading announcements at a council meeting.

“His Oral Examination is tomorrow at twelve o’clock. Magisterial Annex Hall C.”

Selenne nodded once.

“And his Mana Control Trial,” Kaleran continued, “is on Thursday. Five in the morning. Cultivation Chamber 3C.”

Her eyes narrowed—not in surprise, but in recognition.

’They put him in one of the earliest chambers.’

’Deliberate.’

’Predictable.’

Kaleran offered a tired smile. “Now you’re fully informed.”

Selenne inclined her head again—barely—and opened the door.

“I’ll see to it,” she said simply.

Then she stepped out into the corridor, her silhouette dissolving into the pale blue glow of the administrative lights.

The door whispered shut behind her, sealing Kaleran’s warm lamplight away. The corridor outside was colder, quieter—lit only by pale spell-lamps that cast long shadows against the stone.

Selenne walked.

Unhurried.

Unmoved.

Her cloak drifted behind her like settling dusk, its faint shimmer catching on the floor’s silvery wards.

’Well.’

A soft exhale left her nose, barely perceptible.

’This works for me as well.’

The statement carried no sentiment, no fondness—just practicality wrapped in starlight.

She had, after all, been meaning to look into him properly.

Not the rumors.

Not the papers and fabricated commentary tossed around by noble heirs with thin egos and thinner competence.

Him.

The strange one.

The boy who appeared out of nowhere with void readings, black fire, and a habit of aggravating both the Tower and the aristocracy within a single week.

Her steps echoed softly—measured, steady.

’If the Academy insists on throwing him under my jurisdiction…’

Her eyes narrowed with quiet calculation.

’Then I might as well use the opportunity.’

A strange student.

A dangerous one.

Unclassified, untamed, uninterested in obeying the natural order everyone else seemed willing to accept.

He reminded her—very faintly, very inconveniently—of the kind of anomaly the Tower’s archives used to whisper about in coded footnotes.

The kind that came once every few decades.

Or never.

’And he has the audacity to be insufferable on top of that.’

Her lips twitched—not quite amusement, but the ghost of a scoff.

’Of course.’

She turned down another corridor, the crystalline lamps shifting color as they sensed her mana signature. Her reflection stretched across the floor—fluid, faintly violet, sharp in its outline.

Tomorrow at midday.

Thursday at dawn.

Two trials.

Two openings.

Two chances to observe this anomaly in motion—not from the sidelines, not through reports, but directly, with her own eyes.

She stopped briefly at a junction, the faint hum of warding glyphs vibrating under the arch above.

“Convenient,” she murmured under her breath, barely audible even to herself.

Her gaze lifted—a shard of starlight settling in her irises.

’He wanted to hide?’

’Too late now.’