Novel's Extra: The Lost Heir of Dragon Queen-Chapter 92: A Strange Encounter

Shirone quickly pressed himself against the shadow of a nearby tree, narrowing his eyes.

A figure stood before the student—a woman, clad in an elegant deep-blue dress that hugged her frame like woven moonlight.

Her red hair cascaded down her back, and her crimson lips curled into a small, knowing smile.

Even from this distance, Shirone could tell she wasn’t ordinary.

There was something unnatural about her presence.

A stillness.

The student bowed slightly, his movements stiff with nervousness.

He spoke in a low voice, but Shirone’s sharp ears caught a few words.

"…No one suspects anything… The others haven’t noticed yet…"

The woman nodded, amused.

Her hand reached forward, delicately lifting the student’s chin, forcing him to meet her gaze.

Whatever she said next was too quiet for Shirone to hear, but the way the student shuddered told him it wasn’t anything comforting.

Shirone clenched his jaw.

Who the hell is she?

His grip tightened around the dagger at his waist.

He hadn’t been planning to reveal himself yet, but every second he watched, the tension in his body grew.

There was something deeply wrong with this situation.

Then, just as he was about to retreat further into the shadows—

The woman turned.

Her gaze landed directly on him.

Shirone froze.

It wasn’t the usual reaction of someone noticing they were being watched.

It wasn’t confusion, nor surprise.

It was amusement.

A slow smile spread across her lips, as if she had known he was there from the very beginning.

Her golden eyes gleamed with a dangerous curiosity

Shirone instinctively took a step back, but before he could react further, her voice rang out.

"Oh? A young, handsome boy wandering all alone in the jungle?"

Her tone was smooth, teasing, laced with something… deeper.

A whisper of something ancient beneath the surface of those words.

Shirone didn’t respond.

His instincts were screaming at him to run, to put as much distance between himself and this woman as possible.

But his body—his traitorous body—remained still.

The woman took a slow step forward.

"Come with me."

It was not a question. Not a request.

It was a command.

And to his growing horror, Shirone felt his body obey.

His mind reeled, fighting against the invisible force compelling him forward.

Every nerve in his body burned with resistance, yet his feet moved of their own accord, following the woman as she turned and walked deeper into the jungle.

The world around him seemed to shift.

The air grew heavier, pressing against his skin like an unseen weight.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears, but his limbs refused to respond to his desperate attempts to stop.

Minutes passed in a daze, the dense jungle giving way to something unnatural.

The thick foliage thinned, revealing structures—ancient, abandoned, covered in vines and the passage of time.

Crumbling buildings lined the area, their broken windows hollow and lifeless.

An old city.

Shirone’s mind screamed in alarm.

He had never seen this place before.

No map or academy record mentioned ruins of this size existing within the jungle.

Where am I?

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His lips parted to speak, but no sound came out.

His voice, his will—both were shackled.

The woman led him through the ruins, weaving through forgotten streets as if she had walked them a thousand times before.

Finally, she stopped before a single, intact building.

A tall, stone structure with a door slightly ajar, waiting to swallow him whole.

She turned to him again, smiling softly.

"Come inside, won’t you?"

Shirone’s body stepped forward without hesitation.

The door creaked as he crossed the threshold, stepping into the dimly lit interior. Shadows clung to the walls.

At the center of the room stood a simple wooden chair, old but sturdy, as if waiting for him.

The woman walked gracefully to the far end of the room and turned to face him.

Her smile hadn’t faded.

Shirone’s breathing was shallow.

His heart pounded violently against his ribs.

Something was wrong.

Something was horribly, horribly wrong.

And then, she spoke again.

"Now… kill yourself."

Shirone’s body moved.

His hand reached for his dagger, unsheathing it with a whisper of metal.

His mind roared in resistance.

His soul clawed desperately against the force controlling him.

But his arm was already lifting, the blade glinting in the candlelight as it moved toward his throat.

His grip tightened.

The cold steel pressed against his skin.

And then—

CRACK.

The sound of shattering glass echoed through the room.

The woman’s eyes flickered with momentary surprise.

Shirone gasped as the invisible weight crushing his mind suddenly lifted.

His knees buckled, and for a brief moment, his vision blurred.

The dagger slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the stone floor.

His body trembled, sweat dripping from his forehead as he realized just how close he had been to death.

His dazed eyes flickered toward the window.

Stellan.

The second-year president stood in the broken frame, his sword gleaming under the dim candlelight.

His stance was solid, unwavering, as if he had been expecting this exact moment.

Without hesitation, he leaped into the room, his blade slashing in a precise arc between Shirone and the woman.

The sheer force of his strike created a gust of wind, blowing away the oppressive presence that had bound Shirone moments ago.

Shirone staggered backward, gasping for air as he tried to steady himself.

His mind, now his own again, reeled from what had just happened.

"Shirone, are you alright?" Stellan’s voice was sharp, urgent.

Shirone gritted his teeth, still feeling the remnants of the woman’s influence crawling at the edges of his mind.

"Ugh…" He swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay on his feet.

"I… I was completely controlled. My body wasn’t listening to me."

Now that his thoughts were clear, the realization hit him like a thunderbolt.

That’s why she didn’t react when I was watching her.

From the moment she noticed him in the jungle, she hadn’t raised any alarm or shown surprise.

She had known he was there, yet she had let him follow.

She had been waiting.

And while his focus had been on their conversation, her focus had been on controlling him—through methods that felt completely unnatural.

His hands curled into fists.

Mind control… but not just any kind.

Something more insidious, more refined.

The woman’s gaze darkened as she glared at Stellan, clearly displeased by his interference.

"Hey, brat." Her voice lost its previous softness, dripping with venom instead.

"Who the hell are you?"

She stepped forward, her movements no longer graceful, but sharp—predatory.

Stellan, unshaken, leveled his sword toward her.

"I should be asking you the same thing." His tone was cold, unyielding.

"Mind control? Manipulating people to kill themselves? Sounds like a coward’s method."

The woman’s lips curled into a smirk, but her crimson eyes burned with irritation.

"Hmph. A coward? How bold of you to talk like that when you barely understand the situation you’ve walked into."

Stellan’s grip on his sword tightened.

"I don’t need to understand anything. What I do know is that you tried to kill Shirone."

He shifted his stance, his aura flaring.

"And for that, you’re not leaving here unscathed."