Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra-Chapter 605: The girl from the Military
The cold stone beneath his knees was unforgiving, a stark contrast to the warmth of the torches lining the grand hall. His breath came ragged, his fingers curling into fists against the marble. He had lost. He had lost.
And she—she stood above him, the dim firelight catching in her dark hair, her sharp eyes locked onto his with a quiet, brutal certainty. No trace of warmth, no hesitation.
"You lost, brother."
Her voice was calm. Unfeeling. It wasn't a taunt, nor was it pity. It was simply fact.
His breath caught, rage burning through his veins, deeper than the bruises blooming across his body. His jaw clenched, his teeth bared like a cornered animal.
"Don't call me brother, you whore."
The words left his lips in a snap, venomous and cruel.
Then—
"Linston! Mind your words!"
A voice thundered through the chamber, sending a hush rippling across the gathered nobles.
Linston's head whipped toward the sound, his anger twisting into something frantic, something desperate.
"FATHER! WHY!" He was on his feet now, fists trembling at his sides, his breath heavy with disbelief. "She is just the daughter of a lowborn!"
A sharp crack echoed through the hall.
Their father's palm met his cheek with brutal finality.
"WATCH YOUR WORDS!"
Linston barely had time to register the sting before their father's voice cut deeper than the blow.
"She is my daughter."
Linston staggered back, his breath uneven, the sting of the slap still burning across his cheek. His father's words rang in his ears, twisting like a knife in his gut.
"She is my daughter."
No. No, that wasn't possible. His father, the noble patriarch of the Burns family, couldn't have meant that. Couldn't have acknowledged her. Not here, not like this.
His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms, as his vision blurred with fury.
"I refuse," Linston spat, his voice laced with disgust. "I refuse to acknowledge this filth as my equal." His blood boiled at the very thought. How could he—Linston Burns, the rightful heir, the son of noble blood—have lost to someone like her?
Yet here he was. On his knees.
He had lost.
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A sharp gasp filled the hall, and then a woman's cry split through the heavy silence.
"Linston, my son!"
A figure pushed past the stunned nobles. His mother, dressed in an opulent gown of crimson and gold, stormed forward with the fire of a woman who had spent years ensuring her son's place in the world. Her eyes blazed with fury, locked on the man who had just struck her son—her husband.
Her voice rose, shrill and indignant. "What do you think you're doing?! How dare you raise your hand against Linston? He is your son, the heir of this house! Have you gone mad?!"
The tension in the air was suffocating.
The patriarch of the Burns family, a man of steel and discipline, turned to face his wife with an expression of quiet, simmering fury. "And what of it?" he said coldly. "He has disgraced this house with his words. His arrogance has blinded him. Do you expect me to sit idly while he throws filth at his own kin?"
His wife's face twisted with rage. "Kin?" she hissed, and then, as if she had only now remembered Jesse's presence, her furious gaze snapped toward her.
Jesse remained still. Unmoved.
The matriarch's lips curled in contempt. "And you…" Her voice was venomous, thick with disdain. "You dare lay a hand on my son?"
Jesse met her gaze with a quiet, unwavering stare. She had anticipated this reaction, had known from the moment she returned that the woman before her would never accept the truth.
"I didn't lay a hand on him," Jesse said smoothly, her tone devoid of emotion. "He lost. That is all."
Linston let out a strangled growl, his pride unable to take the weight of those words. His mother, too, recoiled as if struck.
"How dare you—"
"Enough," their father interrupted, his voice like iron. His gaze swept over his family, over the nobles who watched with bated breath. "Linston failed. And failure has consequences."
Linston's mother turned on him with a look of betrayal. "You're truly going to humiliate your own son in front of the entire court? In front of these people?!"
The patriarch didn't waver. "No, I am making him learn." His eyes flickered toward Jesse. "She has earned her place, whether you accept it or not."
Linston's face twisted in fury. His whole world—his birthright, his pride, his superiority—had been shattered before these very people.
The hall fell into a suffocating silence as the weight of the patriarch's words settled over them like a heavy storm cloud. The gathered nobles stood frozen, their gazes darting between Jesse and Linston, as if expecting the defeated heir to lash out, to protest, to demand another chance.
But no such plea came.
Instead, Linston stood stiffly, his body trembling—not with exhaustion, but with barely contained rage. His breath was shallow, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
Then, his father spoke again, his voice steady, authoritative, final.
"As per the agreement, Jesse will be the one to be sent to the Imperial Arcanis Academy."
Murmurs rippled through the court like a wave, nobles exchanging hushed words, scandalized glances. The weight of those words—Jesse will be the one—was more than just a declaration. It was an upheaval of the expected order.
The treaty between the Loria Empire and the Arcanis Empire had been the defining political maneuver of the decade. With war between the two great nations coming to an end, the peace treaty had not only halted bloodshed but had also created a delicate, strategic alliance.
One of the most critical aspects of this treaty was the Exchange Pact, an agreement that allowed Loria to send its most promising heirs and prodigious youths to study at the prestigious Imperial Arcanis Academy—a place of immense prestige, power, and political influence.
And the Burns family had been granted a coveted seat among those chosen.
This duel, this battle between Jesse and Linston, had been more than just a contest of skill or family pride. It had been for the right to claim that seat, the right to stand among the future rulers, scholars, and warriors of the Arcanis Empire.
And now, she had won it.
Jesse said nothing as the weight of her victory settled over the court. She had expected this outcome, but the satisfaction she should have felt… wasn't there. The air was too thick with tension, with resentment, with the silent fury of a man who refused to accept his loss.
Linston's breath hitched sharply, his nails digging into his palms as his body trembled. "No," he whispered, his voice hoarse. Then louder— "NO! THIS CAN'T BE!"
Of course it was not going to be easy at all.
