The Extra is a Genius!?-Chapter 108: The Promise

The meal had finished, but the air in the dining hall remained heavy—charged with something unsaid.

Noel set his utensils down deliberately and drew in a slow breath. His heart wasn’t racing. His mind was clear. Now or never.

He lifted his gaze to Lord Caeron.

"Lord Caeron," he began, voice calm but carrying weight, "I would like to tell you something."

The noble lord, who had just been lifting his glass, set it down slowly. His dark eyes sharpened, fixing on Noel. His tone was cool, expectant.

"Say it."

Noel straightened his back, no hint of fear in his voice.

"I know how to create a cure for the illness affecting your wife... and your people."

The silence that followed was immediate—crushing.

Caeron’s eyes narrowed to slits. The atmosphere around him shifted like a storm brewing beneath still waters. Power radiated from him—not magical, but pure force of will. Even the servants, who had been quietly clearing plates, stopped and instinctively withdrew from the room.

A heavy tension pressed down on Noel’s shoulders. He kept his breathing steady.

Caeron’s voice dropped to a deep, cold register.

"I hope you understand what you’ve just said."

His gaze could have frozen steel.

"If you come into my home and speak such nonsense without the means to back it... you know very well what will happen, don’t you?"

Noel didn’t flinch. He met the lord’s gaze head-on.

"I know perfectly well."

The room was still. Elyra’s eyes flicked between them, reading the charged undercurrent between her father and the boy sitting so composed across from him.

But Noel didn’t lower his eyes.

’This is what I came here to do. One step forward.’

The silence stretched. Noel could feel it creeping into his bones—thick as fog, sharp as ice.

He shifted his gaze, just slightly, toward Elyra.

She understood immediately.

"Father," she said, voice calm but firm. "You can trust him. He may be peculiar, but he is trustworthy."

Noel gave a small nod in thanks, then pressed forward, voice steady:

"If you doubt me, I can describe the symptoms myself. Fevers exceeding forty degrees. Red rashes spreading across the skin. The illness does not spread through contact—it transmits through saliva. Which means Lady Estermont must have consumed infected food or drink."

Lord Caeron’s jaw tightened. His fingers curled slightly over the edge of the table.

"That is impossible," he said sharply. "The food here is the finest in the continent—every item is personally selected for this house."

Noel didn’t hesitate.

"Was there any occasion when she ate outside the estate?"

A beat. Caeron frowned, eyes narrowing further.

’He’s thinking about it,’ Noel noted silently.

Finally, Caeron exhaled through his nose.

"Now that you mention it... yes. We had a meal together at a restaurant near our home."

Noel nodded once.

"Then it is very possible that is where the infection originated."

For a moment, the great Lord Estermont—a man who radiated untouchable control—lowered his gaze, his expression hard to read.

The air in the room shifted.

A long silence followed.

Lord Caeron sat motionless, eyes cast down for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower—not weaker, but tempered.

"So... it was my fault," he said quietly.

Noel shook his head. "No. It wasn’t. There was no way for you to know. You can’t blame yourself for this."

Caeron exhaled slowly, shoulders rising and falling. The tension in the room seemed to ease, just slightly.

"I see," he said. Then, lifting his gaze once more—sharp and resolute—he spoke clearly. "You say you will go to Iskandar?"

"Yes. I will leave first thing tomorrow. The sooner I go, the sooner we can end this."

"Then I will arrange a vehicle for you. You will travel with the full protection of House Estermont."

"Thank you, Lord Caeron."

At that, Elyra spoke, voice soft but determined. "I will go with you."

Noel turned to her, meeting her eyes. His tone remained gentle, but firm. "No. You should stay here. Your mother needs you now more than ever."

Elyra hesitated—her expression betraying her frustration—but after a moment, she nodded. "Very well... We will see each other when you return. And I hope you haven’t lied to me, Noel."

Noel gave a small smile, eyes unwavering. "You have my word. I will return with what I promised."

He straightened in his seat. "But before I leave, I will need a few things prepared. Have ready: royal bee honey... and Gloomthorn pollen. Its spores are poisonous, but when combined with what I’ll bring from Iskandar, they will form a critical part of the cure."

Caeron gave a single nod. "Understood. We will prepare them."

Noel stood from his seat. "That is all from me. I will prepare to leave at dawn."

Without another word, he bowed to both father and daughter, then turned and left the room—steps calm, but mind already racing ahead.

The door to his guest room clicked shut behind him.

Noel exhaled and leaned against it for a moment, the weight of the conversation still lingering in his chest.

’That... went better than it could have.’

He pushed off the door, removed his jacket, and set the small dimensional pouch on the edge of the grand bed. The room’s soft light gave everything a golden hue—expensive, tasteful, and far too quiet.

Noel crossed to the private bathroom, ran cold water into a basin, and splashed it over his face. The chill grounded him. He looked at his reflection in the mirror—wet hair falling over his emerald eyes, an unfamiliar exhaustion behind them.

’I just made a very big promise.’

And one he had every intention of keeping.

He dried his face, changed into simple sleeping clothes from the wardrobe, and sat on the edge of the massive bed. The sheets were cool against his palms. The quiet of the estate pressed in—a different kind of weight now.

’Time to rest. I’ll need a clear head tomorrow.’

He slid beneath the covers, eyes half-lidded, when—

A soft knock at the door.

Noel blinked. ’Elyra? She never knocked before.’

"Come in," he called.

The door opened with a soft creak.

Elyra stepped in, dressed in a simple silk robe, her braid loose over one shoulder. For once, she seemed hesitant—her usual confidence softened.

Noir padded quietly beside her, curling up near the door as if sensing the mood.

Noel sat up slightly against the headboard. "Is something wrong?"

Elyra shook her head. "No... I just wanted to thank you."

He raised an eyebrow. "Thank me? I haven’t done anything yet."

She crossed the room, stopping a few steps from the bed.

"For the gesture," she said softly. "And for giving my father and me hope. We... we didn’t have much left. Nothing we tried worked. We were beginning to... lose her."

Noel’s expression softened. "Save your thanks for when I return. And don’t worry—I will return."

She smiled faintly. "I see... well then. I’ll leave you to rest. We’ll see each other in the morning."

She turned to go but paused at the door.

"Good night, Noel."

"Good night."

The door closed gently behind her.

Noel leaned back, staring at the ceiling in the dim light. The silence of the estate pressed in once more.

’Seems like I’ll have to work hard to live up to these expectations.’

His eyes drifted shut, the weight of tomorrow already pulling at his thoughts.

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