I Reincarnated as an Extra in a Reverse Harem World

Alaric reappeared within the Crydias Estate, the veil of night heavy upon the world.

The Divine Castle loomed quietly behind the grand mansion, its presence ever watchful, ever alive—but he did not return there just yet. Instead, he entered his personal residence, its silent halls greeting him like a familiar lullaby.

He made his way to the private bathing chamber.

Steam rose in soft whorls as he sank into the water, the faint scent of divine incense lingering in the air—resin, myrrh, and a trace of windborne lilac. The warmth unraveled the tension coiled deep in his bones, yet his thoughts remained alert, steady.

After the bath, he stepped into his chambers and seated himself, letting the silence cradle him.

The day had been long. Weighty. But not burdensome.

A soft smile tugged at his lips.

The girls weren't here tonight.

Aurevia, Cellione, Serineth,Virellen, Auralyne and also the new girls were still in the Divine Castle—training as if their very lives depended on it. And perhaps, in their minds, they did.

All because of a passing comment.

He had told them they needed to meet his expectations by the end of this year. A jest, more or less. Something light.

But they had taken it to heart.

They didn't laugh. They didn't protest. They simply began to move, as if those words had been branded into their resolve. Even his playful warnings had become gospel in their eyes.

He sighed—soft, amused.

It was admirable, if a little dangerous.

But he let it be.

The materials he'd ordered for their cultivation—rare minerals, crystals, scriptures, and refined energy nodes—had all arrived. Everything they needed was now within reach. And yet, he had offered them no divine aid. No blessings of growth. No interference.

He could have made their progress effortless.

He could have infused them with divine will, shattered their bottlenecks, and propelled them upward like blazing stars.

But he didn't.

They needed to understand effort. They needed to feel the slow grind of the climb, the ache of stagnation, the quiet despair that lived in every bottleneck—and the triumph of breaking through it by their own hands.

Without that pain, there would be no foundation.

Without that hunger, their strength would crumble the moment he was no longer there to carry them.

So he stayed back. And watched.

Even Aurevia—prideful and composed. Even Cellione—bold and relentless. Even Serineth—shy but sharp. Even Virellen—mischievous but disciplined. All four of them had broken through recently, each on their own, with no shortcuts granted.

He had watched them struggle.

And overcome.

They had broken through like missiles in the past. Quick. Explosive. Artificial.

But now, they were starting to bloom like mountains being carved—slow, enduring, permanent.

That was the kind of strength he wanted them to build.

Not the kind that flashed and faded.

The kind that lasted.

*****

✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢

✶ I Reincarnated as an Extra ✶

✧ in a Reverse Harem World ✧

⊱ Eternal_Void_ ⊰

✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢

*****

After the bath, Alaric made his way to the dining hall.

The mansion was quiet at this hour. The moonlight filtered through the tall glass windows, casting pale silver across the marble floors. He entered in silence, yet the atmosphere changed the moment he stepped through the archway.

Several of the estate's servants were already present, prepared for his arrival.

All of them were women. And all of them blushed.

They bowed respectfully, but their eyes lingered just a little longer than formality allowed. One of them fumbled a tray. Another flushed so red that she looked on the verge of fainting. And when Alaric smiled—a simple, absent expression—they nearly lost their composure.

He said nothing.

He didn't need to.

He offered no entertainment for their foolish hopes, no warmth beyond courtesy. Just that faint smile, and then he quietly took his seat.

Dinner was presented. A beautiful arrangement of delicate cuisine—each dish refined and meticulously prepared. But none of it mattered.

He ate in silence.

Not for sustenance. Not for taste.

But for habit.

Then he stood, nodded once in polite dismissal, and left the dining hall behind.

***

He slumped onto the bed with a soft sigh.

Today had been eventful—immensely so. He wasn't physically tired. No ache in the limbs, no exhaustion in the bones. But mentally?

He felt the weight.

A thousand thoughts passed behind his eyes. Half-finished plans. Tangled strands of responsibility. The memory of those tearful faces in the slums. The unspoken pressure of what it meant to be someone others looked toward—not as a man, but as something more.

Before returning to the estate, he had met with Caldrith once more.

They had reported their progress—movement among the rebel lines, new alliances forming, whisperings within the neutral factions. Promising, yes. But far from stable.

Alaric listened, nodded once.

Then handed over several hundred mana crystals.

Just like that.

No ceremony. No explanation. Just a pouch that shimmered with unspent potential, as if it had been plucked from the treasury of a god.

They had stared at him in silence. Slack-jawed. Eyes wide.

As if he were some demon in mortal form, offering wealth in exchange for their souls.

But Alaric wasn't in the mood for their shock.

Nor their questions.

So he vanished.

One moment there. The next—gone. Teleportation had its perks, and silence was one of them.

He flew back toward the estate in peace.

***

Now, lying on his bed beneath the soft canopy of darkness, he stared up at the ceiling for a while.

Sleep tugged at him, but his thoughts still wandered.

He didn't need food anymore. Not truly.

At his current level of strength, digestion itself had become obsolete. Anything that entered his body was simply dissolved—purified—by the divine energy circulating within. Mortal food had no hold on him.

It was as if the sacred core at the center of his being refused the crude offerings of the world.

He found it amusing.

As if even his stomach had become sanctified—sealed from the mundane. It made him feel like one of those immortals from the xianxia novels he once devoured in another life. Aloof. Elevated. Removed from the ordinary.

It didn't bother him.

If anything, it added to the strangeness of it all. The weight of who he was becoming. The man who no longer needed food, yet still sat down to eat. The one who was worshipped, yet gave all the praise to another.

The boy who once dreamed of teleporting, now floating across cities unseen.

He smiled faintly.

Then, without a word, he closed his eyes—and slept.

-To Be Continued