The Extra Who Shouldn’t Exist

In the heart of the Crestvale Duchy—one of the Avaloria Empire's oldest and strongest pillars—stood a mansion that seemed more fortress than estate.

Inside one of its many lavish chambers, a woman with snow-white hair lay asleep upon a king-sized bed.

The room exuded opulence in every detail—every furnishing and ornament was both a testament to wealth and to refined taste.

The cream-colored damask wallpaper was patterned with faint gold threads, catching the morning light.

Delicately framed paintings hung at perfect intervals, each a masterpiece in its own right. Floor-length silk curtains swayed gently in the occasional draft, whispering against the polished marble floor.

She lay beneath a thick blanket of deep crimson, its weight cocooning her from neck to toes. An eye mask rested over her face, but it couldn't hide the perfection of her features.

On the other side of the bed, there was a subtle indentation—signs that someone had been there earlier. The blanket was slightly disheveled, that side's warmth already fading.

The room was silent. No ticking clock, no rustle of servants outside.

And then—her eyes snapped open.

It was Serena von Crestvale—the Duchess of the Crestvale Duchy, and sister to Edward Evans Avaloria, the current King of the Empire.

She slowly removed the eye mask, blinking at the soft glow of morning spilling across the room. A languid stretch rolled through her frame, followed by a yawn that carried the quiet indulgence of someone who didn't often get to rest.

Her gaze shifted to the empty space beside her. A faint pout tugged at her lips.

'He didn't even wake me up before leaving?'

She considered just how she would punish her husband for this offense, her mind already dancing between possibilities.

With a sigh that was equal parts fondness and mock irritation, Serena swung her legs over the bed and rose gracefully. Her bare feet touched the cool marble, and she crossed the room with an elegance that was natural to her.

Her steps took her to a large framed portrait hanging on the far wall.

The image captured a moment of warmth and unity: Serena seated in the front with her daughter, Alicia, and Charlotte—both smiling faintly. Behind them stood her husband, Reynard, and her son, Alden.

A smile softened her features.

'Still as beautiful as the day we took it. Maybe we should have another done soon… though this one… this one is perfect.'

Charlotte had long been like family to Serena. She knew the girl's hardships, the pain she carried. To Serena, Charlotte was not just a guest, but a child she had sworn to protect.

"Oh, how I miss these troublemakers… Alicia's probably training frantically to lose weight after what happened at the ball, Alden's definitely sleeping like a log, and Charlotte… that brat's either studying, training, or scheming something."

A soft chuckle escaped her before she turned away.

With one last lingering look at the portrait, Serena entered the adjoining bathroom.

---

Minutes later, she emerged after taking a bath, her hair brushed into perfect silk-like strands.

She wore an elegant red dress, its fabric flowing like liquid flame around her frame. Delicate embroidery wound across the bodice and sleeves in patterns reminiscent of intricate lacework, forming a tapestry of flowers and curling vines that shimmered with faint gold threads when caught in the light.

The moment she stepped into the hallway, Elric—her ever-loyal butler—was already waiting. The old man had served her since she was ten, and though his back was slightly bent with age, his presence radiated the quiet authority and power of someone who had seen and done much.

Bowing low, he greeted her.

"Good morning, my lady."

Serena's smile was warm and genuine.

"Good morning to you too, El."

They began walking down the lavishly decorated corridor, passing ornate vases, intricate wall sconces, and windows framed by crimson drapery.

As they walked, maids and guards lined the halls, bowing respectfully.

"Good morning, my lady."

"Good morning, my lady."

Serena returned each greeting with a small smile and a nod.

Motherhood and her role as Duchess had only sharpened her understanding of responsibility. She treated everyone in her service with respect—not out of duty, but conviction.

'They're human beings, same as I am. It costs nothing to treat them well.'

Still… among nobles, her name carried a different weight. She was a nightmare to many of them, though she had long stopped wondering why.

The Crestvales were the Empire's shield at the frontlines of the abyssal war. The human military was divided into numerous factions, each entrusted to noble families who could field at least one Transcendent-ranked powerhouse.

Their rewards—wealth, influence, and strategic authority—matched the dangers they faced.

Her own brother, Edward Evans Avaloria, the King, was a Monarch-rank powerhouse—a symbol of Avaloria's might.

Her husband, Reynard Crestvale, was one of the Empire's most feared generals, his victories legendary. His presence was often demanded at the frontlines, leaving Serena to oversee the Duchy's affairs.

And she did so with skill. Reynard trusted her completely, even when he was present, though… he still liked to be informed of her more ambitious plans—especially since her tomboyish streak sometimes frightened even him.

Serena had been a prodigy from childhood—sharp in business, cunning in negotiation, and lethal in combat. Yet, for all her power and skill, there was a part of her that longed for freedom from duty.

Elric's voice broke her train of thought.

"My lady… is something on your mind?"

Serena glanced at him and smiled faintly.

"Nothing much… I was just thinking of going on a trip with Reynard. It's been too long, and I'm tired of only handling family matters."

Elric smirked knowingly.

"Do you think you can convince the Duke?"

Her eyes narrowed, and her lips curved into a dangerous smile.

"Do I look like a convincing person to you? He'll take my word for it and obey."

A chill ran down Elric's spine despite knowing he was stronger than her. He silently prayed for the Duke.

'Looks like she's serious…'

Serena's path to power had been far from easy. As a royal, expectations and envy were constant companions. With a brother whose talent was unmatched in centuries, the pressure was immense.

But through grit and determination, she carved her own legend, rising to the rank of Grandmaster (Low).

She had left her tomboy life behind after marrying Reynard and raising Alicia and Alden… but even now, the embers of her restless spirit smoldered.

"I hope they're enjoying themselves at the academy," she murmured.

---

The double doors of the dining hall swung open silently, and Serena stepped inside.

At the far end of the massive table sat a man whose very presence seemed to fill the room, even though he was clearly suppressing it. His posture was upright, composed, and unyielding—a man who carried the weight of authority with effortless ease.

Reynard von Crestvale.

His brown hair was slightly tousled, yet it only added to the rugged sharpness of his features. His deep brown eyes held a quiet intensity, like smoldering embers hidden beneath layers of restraint.

Even in the simple act of sitting, his frame radiated coiled strength, the aura of a Transcendent-rank powerhouse pressing faintly against the air, as though daring anyone to challenge him.

Serena's lips curled upward.

'Looks like he was waiting for me to start breakfast. How cute.'

From beside her, Elric—ever perceptive—spoke with the faintest hint of amusement.

"Looks like you are quite happy that he did not start breakfast without you, my lady."

Serena turned her head and fixed him with a glare sharp enough to cut.

"Shut up and leave us alone for a bit."

"Of course, my lady." Elric bowed and retreated, the heavy door shutting quietly behind him.

Serena began a slow, deliberate walk toward the long dining table. Each step of her heels against the polished floor echoed faintly in the grand room. Sliding into the chair beside her husband, she let her pout show.

"Why did you not wake me up?"

Without even glancing at her, Reynard replied in that deep, steady tone of his.

"You looked tired. I didn't want to disturb your sleep."

Her pout shifted into a teasing smirk.

"Of course I was tired. And you do know the reason."

That made Reynard finally look at her, one brow lifting in question.

Serena's eyes glittered with mischief.

"Because you didn't let me sleep all night."

A flush of red crept up his face instantly.

"S-shut up…" he muttered, averting his eyes.

That only made Serena burst into laughter, her voice ringing out across the room.

"You should see your face right now! Come on, there's nobody here besides us."

Reynard exhaled heavily, but a smirk tugged at his lips. To the world, he was the iron-fisted Duke Crestvale—strict, disciplined, and utterly unyielding.

His soldiers feared his wrath, his enemies feared his sword, and his name was a terror across battlefields. But before Serena—and their daughter Alicia—he was utterly defenseless. No matter how unreasonable their requests, he always found himself giving in.

It was something few knew, and one of the reasons he had pushed Alden's training so harshly—partly to mold him into strength, partly to hide this soft weakness from his son, and also to relieve his frustration on him sometimes.

But now, seeing Serena laugh like this… he couldn't help himself.

Without warning, he reached out and took both her hands, leaning in until his face was only inches from hers. Her eyes widened, and a faint blush bloomed across her cheeks.

"If you want," he murmured against her ear, his voice low and warm, "we can try for a third one."

Serena's blush deepened instantly, her mouth opening—but no words came. The teasing had reversed, and now she was the one flustered. She did not like the shift in balance one bit.

Reynard's quiet chuckle rumbled from his chest as he watched her pout.

'Maybe this is the reason I fell for her,' he thought.

He held her gaze, his large hands still wrapped around hers, and slowly began to lean in again. Her breath caught as his lips drew closer—

—when suddenly, the dining room doors burst open with a loud crash.

Startled, Serena shoved him away with far more force than intended. Reynard, mid-lean and eyes closed, suddenly found himself toppling backward out of his chair and hitting the floor with a thud.

He shot up instantly, embarrassment flashing into irritation, only to find Elric standing in the doorway. A vein pulsed at his temple.

Serena's expression hardened into a scolding glare.

"Old man, don't you know what privacy means?"

Reynard's voice was equally sharp.

"Elric, you better have a damn good reason for disturbing me when I rarely get to come home."

Elric didn't flinch. Instead, he barked in urgency.

"This is not the time for this, sir! There's an emergency—the young master Alden, along with all of his friends, has been kidnapped!"

The world seemed to stop.

Serena's breath caught, her face draining of color. Her chair scraped back violently as she shoved it away, the wooden legs screeching against the marble before toppling over.

Her voice trembled, barely a whisper.

"Alden…?"

Then her expression twisted into pure horror.

'No… no, no… this can't be happening.'

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A/N:

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