Extra To Protagonist-Chapter 71: Paparazzi

Elara stepped in without waiting for an answer.

She didn't speak at first. She just paused in the doorway, violet eyes scanning him like she was memorizing every inch of him. Like she wasn't sure if he'd vanish again.

Merlin met her gaze.

Didn't say anything.

She crossed the room.

"Can you stand?" she asked, voice low.

He shifted slightly under the blanket. The motion pulled at something deep in his back.

"I can try."

Elara didn't answer. She just offered her hand.

Merlin hesitated.

Then took it.

Her grip was steady.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His feet touched the floor—cold against his skin. For a second, nothing happened.

Then his knees buckled.

Elara caught him before he could fall.

Her arm looped around his back, just under his shoulders. She didn't ask permission.

"You're an idiot," she said softly.

Merlin didn't argue.

He braced himself against her side as they moved. Step by step. It felt humiliating. But the weight of it wasn't just his body—it was the loss. The absence. The silence in his veins where magic should have been.

They didn't talk as she guided him down the corridor. The Academy halls were quiet at this hour. Empty. Just the soft padding of her boots and the uneven drag of his steps.

At one point, Merlin muttered, "You don't have to carry me."

"I'm not," she said. "I'm making sure you don't break something again."

He exhaled, a short sound that might've been a laugh if it had more strength behind it.

They rounded a corner.

Ahead—the courtyard.

Elara slowed.

Merlin lifted his head.

The sun had just begun to rise past the towers. The grass was soaked in morning dew. A faint breeze passed through the archways, lifting strands of Elara's hair.

He hadn't seen this place from the outside since the night of the breach.

Since before.

They stepped out into the open.

His body tensed instinctively, like he was bracing for an attack.

Nothing came.

Just warmth. Birdsong. The scent of wet stone and early flowers.

Elara kept her arm steady around him.

Merlin let her.

For once.

They didn't speak.

They didn't need to.

Because right now—he was breathing.

And that was enough.

Elara had helped him to the edge of a marble bench near the east garden, its surface still damp with morning condensation.

He sat stiffly, resting his forearms on his knees. Breath slow. Controlled. His legs were shaking a little. He hated that.

Elara stood nearby, arms crossed, eyes on the horizon. Guarding him without saying it out loud.

Then—

Footsteps.

Too smooth. Too confident for a first-year.

He didn't need to look up. He already knew who it was.

'Elowen Caelith.'

Merlin sighed.

'Second-year. Council member. One of the youngest appointed in recent cycles. Exceptional at strategic-type magic and barrier control. Charismatic, sharp. She was ridiculously popular in the fanbase of the novel…'

Her voice was warm, but clipped. "Merlin Everhart, I presume?"

He raised his head slowly.

She stood there in full uniform—immaculate despite the early hour.

Long golden hair, tied back in a braided tail that fell between her shoulder blades. Green eyes—bright, analytical, but tempered with calm.

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She smiled faintly. "I was hoping to speak with you before the others started crowding."

'Others?'

Merlin said nothing.

Elara looked at her. "Student Council?"

Elowen inclined her head politely. "Elowen Caelith. Strategic Officer. I'm here unofficially."

She turned her attention back to Merlin. "I wanted to say thank you."

Merlin raised a brow. "For what?"

"For saving our campus. For keeping the breach from spreading. For keeping my little brother alive."

That caught him off guard.

"…Your brother?"

Elowen's smile tilted. "First-year. Red hair. Horrible at combat classes. Terrified of Vivienne."

Merlin sifted through names. Then—

'Caelith… Reian Caelith..I think? I didn't even have an idea he was there…''

"I know what you did," Elowen said, softer now. "The professors aren't talking about it, but I saw the aftermath. You shouldn't have survived. And yet…"

She studied him. Not like she was impressed—more like she was trying to make sense of something impossible.

"You were reckless," she added. "Stupidly so."

"I'm aware."

"But brave," she said. "And more than that—deliberate. Which makes you dangerous."

Elara stiffened beside him. Merlin didn't react.

Elowen's expression didn't change. "I'm not here to warn you. Or interrogate you. I just wanted you to know I saw it. And I won't forget."

She extended a hand.

"For what it's worth… I hope we fight on the same side."

Merlin looked at her hand.

Then took it. Briefly.

"Likewise."

Elowen smiled again. It didn't quite reach her eyes.

Then she turned and walked away, her boots silent against the stone.

Elara watched her disappear around the corridor, then muttered, "She creeps me out."

"She's better than most of them," Merlin said, settling back against the bench.

"Mm." Elara glanced at him. "You know her?"

"No." He paused. "Just a guess."

Elara didn't push.

But she didn't believe him either.

"I have to go and do something…I'll be back soon. Don't…move?"

She looked at Merlin sitting still with a cold expression.

'I'm not sure I can properly…'

"Okay."

With that she just left without saying another word.

Merlin didn't move. He sat exactly where Elara had left him—a bench in the east courtyard, half-shadowed, half-lit, arms crossed over his chest. His body ached in ways he hadn't expected. Like his soul had been scoured out and stapled back into his bones.

His breath came steady. But not deep.

Not strong enough yet.

Then—

Voices.

Too many.

He heard them before he saw them. Footsteps crunching over gravel. A sudden swell of excited whispers.

Someone gasping. A sharp "There he is!" followed by an all-too-familiar chorus of rapidly approaching chaos.

Merlin's fingers twitched against the fabric of his sleeve.

'Oh no.'

The first student rounded the hedge corner. Then four more. Then ten. A whole crowd spilled into the courtyard like floodwater breaking past a dam.

First-years, second-years—he even spotted a few upper-year combat track students peeking around the edge like they'd been dared.

"Elara said he was here—"

"He's the one who went into the portal—"

"Did you see what he did with the lightning spell—?"

"They say he killed a rift-born with a single strike—"

"Shh, shut up, he can hear us—!"

Then they were surrounding him.

Half a dozen faces too close. Eyes wide. Mouths faster than their brains.

"Merlin, is it true you fought alone for three hours?"

"What was inside the rift?"

"Did you see any demons? Real ones?"

"Did the professors train you in secret?"

"Are you part of some hidden mage family?"

"Did you lose your powers? You don't look like you have mana right now."

"Do you remember everything?"

"Can you do it again?"

He didn't speak.

Not because he couldn't. But because if he answered once, he'd never get them to stop.

The questions kept coming. Like a hailstorm made of curiosity and rumors.

"Was it a sacrifice spell?"

"I heard you collapsed the portal with a forbidden technique."

"I heard you were actually a spirit contractor—"

"I heard you died and came back!"

Merlin exhaled slowly through his nose.

'Why does every academy story end with becoming a rumor ghost?'

One of the braver first-years stepped forward—a short girl with her sleeves rolled past her elbows. "Merlin, is it true you're not human?"

He blinked. Finally. Looked at her.

"…What?"

She flushed. "N-not like—like that! I meant…! Uh… people said you walked through corrupted mana like it was nothing, and only monsters can—"

"I'm human," he said flatly.

"R-Right! I didn't mean to offend you—!"

Too late. That opened a fresh wave of voices.

"Wait, does that mean he really lost all his mana?"

"Then how is he even walking around?"

"Should he be walking around?"

"Are they going to make him a professor now?"

'What the fuck?'

Merlin stood.

Just once. A single motion.

The crowd stepped back instinctively.

Even without power. Even drained. He still radiated presence. Not like a hero. Not like a commander. Like something sharp that you shouldn't touch twice.

"I'm not answering questions," he said, voice even. "And I'm not going to explain myself."

Someone in the back mumbled, "Wow. Cold."

"Yes," he replied without blinking. "Now leave."

The silence that followed was surprisingly respectful.

Then slowly, the students began to scatter. Muttering. Whispering. Some still looking back over their shoulders like they expected him to collapse again just for drama.

He sat back down with a quiet sigh.

Elara reappeared a few seconds later, carrying a small bundle of wrapped food. She blinked at the now-empty courtyard.

"…What happened here?"

Merlin didn't look at her. "A natural disaster."

She raised a brow.

"Paparazzi," he muttered.

"…Right." She handed him the bundle. "Eat. You look like a corpse."

He didn't argue.