The Extra's Rise-Chapter 513: Hwaeryun Banquet (6)

I guided Seol-ah across the floor with the practiced grace of nobility bred into my bones. My movements were fluid, refined—each step placed with the confidence of someone who had waltzed through state banquets long before I ever learned to channel divine light through a blade.

Her hand rested in mine like a whispered promise, fingers cool but unwavering. She never resisted my lead, never stumbled or hesitated. Seol-ah possessed a natural elegance that seemed effortless, as if grace was simply her default state of being. Like moonlight finding its way through the smallest gaps in fortress walls—inevitable, beautiful, illuminating everything it touched.

"You haven’t looked at me once since we started dancing," she observed, her voice carrying that particular softness she reserved for moments when the world felt too heavy.

"I didn’t think I needed to," I replied, though my gaze remained fixed somewhere beyond her shoulder. "You always match my pace perfectly."

Her golden eyes lifted to meet mine, and I felt that familiar jolt of recognition—the same one that had struck me the first time I’d seen her in the Eastern territories, standing among the ruins of what had once been her home. "Still, it’s considered polite to acknowledge your partner."

"I was thinking," I said, finally allowing myself to meet her gaze fully.

"About Arthur," she guessed without hesitation.

The accuracy of her observation shouldn’t have surprised me. Seol-ah had always possessed an uncanny ability to read the currents beneath still waters. I hesitated for the span of a heartbeat, then nodded.

She looked away, watching the chandelier light dance across the polished marble floor like scattered stars. "He’s always at the center of things," she said thoughtfully. "Like gravity itself. Even when he tries not to be, people just... gravitate toward him."

"Some of us orbit at different distances," I murmured, the metaphor feeling more apt than I’d intended. "Closer or farther, but always circling back."

Seol-ah didn’t smile, but something gentle settled in her silence—an understanding that ran deeper than words. It was the kind of quiet that existed between two people who had long since stopped pretending they were strangers to each other’s thoughts.

"I didn’t come to this banquet for the politics," I admitted, the words emerging with more honesty than I’d planned. "I came because I knew you’d be here."

She blinked once, slowly, as if processing something fragile. "You always know exactly what to say."

"And I rarely have the courage to say it," I replied, guiding her through a gentle turn that brought us closer together.

Her grip on my hand tightened—not pulling, but anchoring, as if she were afraid one of us might drift away. Her other hand found my shoulder, fingertips lingering against the silk of my formal jacket as though deciding whether it was safe to settle there.

We moved through another sequence, the music swelling around us like an embrace. Other couples danced nearby, their conversations and laughter creating a gentle backdrop to our more intimate exchange. But they felt distant, as if Seol-ah and I existed in our own pocket of space and time.

"You could have stayed in the North," she continued. "Stayed in your comfortable life in the land your family ruled. But you came here."

"There were things worth coming for," I said, my voice lower now, meant only for her ears.

Something shifted in her expression—surprise, perhaps, or recognition of a truth we’d both been dancing around for months. Her lips parted as if she might speak, but the music began its final crescendo, demanding our attention for the last few measures.

I guided her through the closing steps with deliberate care, each movement designed to extend these precious moments for as long as possible. As the final note hung in the air like incense, neither of us moved to separate. Her hand remained in mine, warm now despite the coolness of her touch when we’d begun.

"Lucifer," she whispered, my name carrying more weight than it ever had before.

"I know," I said, though I wasn’t entirely sure what I was acknowledging. The feelings that had been building between us like storm clouds? The impossibility of our situation? The way she made me want to be worthy of the faith she placed in me?

In that suspended moment, with her golden eyes reflecting the chandelier’s light and her hand still clasped in mine, I realized something both simple and terrifying.

I didn’t want to let go. Not of her hand, not of this moment, not of the possibility that someone like her might actually care for someone like me.

But then movement caught my peripheral vision, and I turned to see Arthur leading Reika onto the dance floor. The sight shouldn’t have surprised me—Arthur was nothing if not gracious, and Reika was a valued member of his guild. What did surprise me was the expression on her face.

Hopeful. Like she was holding something precious and fragile in her chest.

The way she gazed up at Arthur as they moved together—it was the same expression I’d seen on Rachel’s face, on Seraphina’s face, on Rose’s face and on Cecilia’s face. The same soft, unconscious adoration that spoke of feelings deeper than mere respect or friendship.

A chill ran down my spine as understanding crashed over me like a wave.

"Oh no," I breathed, the words escaping before I could stop them.

"What is it?" Seol-ah followed my gaze, her own eyes widening as she took in the scene playing out before us.

Arthur was speaking to Reika in low tones, his expression gentle and encouraging. She hung on every word, her usual composed mask completely abandoned in favor of something raw and honest. The way she moved with him, the way she seemed to glow under his attention—it was painfully obvious to anyone who knew how to look.

"That’s five," I muttered, running calculations in my head that I really didn’t want to be making. "Rachel, Seraphina, Rose, Cecilia..." I watched Reika’s face light up at something Arthur said. "And now Reika."

The shiver that ran through me had nothing to do with the temperature in the banquet hall. Arthur had always been charismatic, had always drawn people to him like moths to flame. But this was getting ridiculous. How was it possible for one person to inspire that kind of devotion in so many remarkable women?

"He can’t possibly..." I started, then stopped myself. Because knowing Arthur, he probably could. And would. With his typical oblivious nobility, he’d somehow manage to make all of them feel valued and cherished without even realizing the emotional chaos he was creating.

I rubbed the back of my head, suddenly feeling foolish. A rueful chuckle escaped me as I realized how that must have sounded. "Well, I’m already managing two complicated situations myself, so I suppose I don’t have much room to judge."

The admission hung between us, honest and slightly embarrassed. Because it was true—I’d fallen for both Deia and Seol-ah in different ways, at different times, and I was still trying to figure out how to navigate those feelings without hurting anyone.

"Two?" Seol-ah’s voice was carefully neutral, but I caught the hint of something else beneath it. Not jealousy exactly, but... awareness.

"Deia and..." I met her gaze, letting the silence finish the sentence for me.

Her golden eyes searched my face for a long moment, and I forced myself not to look away. Whatever happened next, she deserved honesty. After everything we’d been through together, after all the careful distances we’d maintained, she deserved to know where she stood.

"And?" she prompted softly.

"And you," I said simply. "It’s always been you, Seol-ah. From the moment I saw you standing in those ruins, refusing to let the world break you. You made me want to be better than I was."

Her breath caught, barely audible above the music and conversation surrounding us. "Lucifer..."

"I know it’s complicated," I continued, the words coming easier now that I’d started. "I know I have no right to ask for anything from you. But I can’t pretend anymore that what I feel for you is simple friendship or alliance."

Seol-ah was quiet for a long moment, her gaze dropping to where our hands were still joined. When she looked up again, her eyes held a complexity of emotions I couldn’t fully read.

"What about Deia?" she asked quietly.

"What about her?" I replied, though I knew it wasn’t a fair response. "My feelings for her don’t diminish what I feel for you. They’re... different. But both real."

It was a terrible answer, inadequate and probably selfish. But it was the truth, and Seol-ah had always valued honesty over pretty lies.

She studied my face for another long moment, then surprised me by stepping closer. "You’re right," she said softly. "It is complicated."

"Does that mean..." I started, hardly daring to hope.

"It means," she said, reaching up to adjust my collar with fingers that trembled slightly, "that I’d rather navigate complicated with you than simple with anyone else."