The Extra is a Genius!?-Chapter 144: Traitor!

The sun was beginning to set over the Holy Capital, casting long shadows across the towering white walls that encircled the city. The stone glowed faintly in the warm orange light, turning gold at the edges. Noel stood before the main gate, hands tucked in his coat pockets, eyes fixed on the massive structure in front of him.

’Here we go.’

Tok tok tok.

He knocked firmly on the smaller wooden door built into the larger gate.

A few seconds passed before it creaked open. A small viewing slot slid aside, revealing the weathered face of an old priest. His gray brows furrowed slightly before relaxing into something kinder.

"Yes? State your purpose," the priest asked, voice calm but cautious.

’Marcus said something about helping right?’

"Good evening. I’d like to enter the Holy Capital," Noel said. "I was told that a group of students from the Imperial Academy of Valor arrived recently—they’re helping with the orphanage."

The priest blinked, then offered a small nod of recognition.

"Ah, yes, yes. They arrived just a few days ago. But why didn’t you come with them?"

"My sister’s wedding was held in Teralis," Noel explained. "We split up. Agreed to meet back here."

"A wedding? Wait... oh! You mean Veyron’s wedding? The heir of House Lestaria?"

"That’s right. His bride is my sister."

The priest straightened slightly.

"A Thorne, then. Forgive my caution, young master."

"No need. It’s normal to be careful."

The priest smiled and began unlocking the side gate.

"Well, welcome to the Holy Capital, Lord Thorne. Come in. You’re just in time."

As the gate creaked open fully, Noel stepped inside.

The road ahead was paved with pale stone, worn smooth by time and footsteps. Lining both sides stood guards clad in polished white armor, detailed with golden crosses. They carried spears and swords, but their stance was relaxed—disciplined, not aggressive.

Further ahead, rising like a mountain of marble and reverence, was the main cathedral.

Its structure dominated the skyline, immense and intricate. Dozens of spires reached into the evening sky, their tips catching the last orange rays of sunlight. The surface of the cathedral shimmered with purity—not through magic, but through masterful craftsmanship. The walls were adorned with sculpted angels, saints, and scenes from sacred tales. The stained-glass windows glittered with deep reds and blues, casting a kaleidoscope of light over the surrounding courtyard.

It reminded Noel of something he had once seen in a textbook—something from Earth.

’Wow. I never really appreciated buildings like this back then. Then again, it’s not like my family ever had money for travel.’

Beside him, the old priest chuckled. ƒreewebɳovel.com

"It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it? I’m glad it struck you."

Noel blinked. "How’d you know what I was thinking?"

The priest smiled. "It’s written all over your face, boy."

Noel glanced away for a moment.

’What a pleasant old man.’

"Come," the priest said, waving him along. "Let me show you where your friends are staying."

They walked together through the side gardens, past tall hedges and iron lanterns hanging from stone arches. Eventually, they arrived at a smaller building—simpler than the cathedral, but warm and full of life. Toys were scattered near the entrance: dolls, a couple of worn balls, a wooden swing creaked gently in the breeze.

"The orphanage," the priest said. "They’re at prayer right now in the chapel, but let me show you your room."

He led Noel through the front doors and into a long corridor lined with rooms on either side. The interior was surprisingly spacious, with clean wooden floors and simple, well-kept furniture.

"There are two rooms for volunteers—men and women," the priest explained. "Your friends are staying in this one. Two bunk beds. Looks like you’ve got a free spot."

Noel stepped inside briefly. One bed was empty, the other three showed signs of use—folded clothes, half-read books, a comb left on a pillow.

"Got it. Thanks for the tour," Noel said.

The priest gave a small bow. "Of course. This old man will leave you to settle in."

Once alone, Noel placed a hand over his dimensional pouch and let out a quiet breath. He reached inside and retrieved Revenant Fang, still sealed in its dark cloth wrap. For a brief moment, the weight of the sword settled in his hands, cold and familiar.

Then, just as quickly, he placed it back inside the pouch.

’No reason to walk around with a black sword strapped to my waist in front of children.’

He pulled off his coat and tossed it over the bedpost, then stepped back out into the fading light. The quiet of the Holy Capital felt... curated. As if the peace was woven into every brick and flagstone, too perfect to be real.

He walked through the cathedral courtyard, past the arches and watchful statues. His eyes traced every corner, every guarded path.

’If I want to infiltrate the lower levels, I’ll need to know this place inside and out.’

He stopped near one of the side chapels, beneath a carved relief of a kneeling knight, and reached for the system menu.

[Item]

Name: Veilweaver’s Charm

Type: Illusion-class utility artifact

Function: Temporarily alters physical appearance (30–45 min max)

Cooldown: 96 hours

He stared at the shimmering text, arms crossed.

’This will come in handy. I could use it to sneak into the restricted floors below. Problem is... who should I turn into? If I want access to the sealed areas, I’ll need to mimic someone important.’

He was still thinking when a voice cut through the silence like a blade.

"Traitor!"

Noel blinked and looked up.

A girl was storming toward him from across the courtyard, pink hair flowing behind her, golden-yellow eyes locked onto his. She was small—barely to his chin—but her presence somehow filled the entire space.

Charlotte.

’...Oh no.’

Without a word, Noel turned and ran.

Behind him, the Saint shouted even louder.

"Stop right there, traitor!"

He darted between pillars, cut across the garden path, slipped past two confused monks. Charlotte kept pace with determination, shouting as she chased him through the courtyard.

They ran like that for nearly two full minutes—her yelling, him ignoring, passersby staring with baffled expressions.

Finally, Noel stopped short.

Charlotte didn’t.

Thud.

She crashed into him full force, letting out a soft "Oof!" as she stumbled forward and instinctively grabbed his wrist.

"I’ve got you! You’re not escaping this time, traitor!"

Noel looked down at her calmly.

"Pardon me, but... do I know you?"

She blinked. Then narrowed her eyes.

"Wait. Maybe I was wrong... No, no. If you didn’t know me, you wouldn’t have run."

She grabbed his arm again, victorious.

"You’re drawing attention," he said, glancing around. "Tone it down a bit, dear Saint."

Charlotte frowned. "Fine. But promise not to run again or I’ll scream. And the holy guards will come for you."

Noel sighed.

"Alright."

"Good," she said cheerfully. Then added, "Traitor."

Noel sighed as Charlotte gripped his arm with surprising strength for someone so small.

"You really need to stop calling me that," he muttered.

"But you are a traitor," she said, completely serious.

He turned his head toward her. "How, exactly?"

"You turned me in," Charlotte declared, pouting slightly. "You handed me over to those boring, serious priests. I was this close to freedom."

Noel stared at her.

"You mean the day you ran away? The day they were going to officially name you the Saint?"

"I wasn’t running," she said, clearly lying. "I was... investigating spiritual freedom."

"Yeah, sure..."

"And," she continued, pointing an accusatory finger up at him with her free hand, "instead of helping me escape, you brought me back! You watched them take me away like I was some criminal, they even tied me!"

"I didn’t know they’d tie you up."

"Of course you didn’t, you just poof and disappeared leaving me behind."

Charlotte narrowed her eyes.

"Exactly. Traitor."

"You weren’t even supposed to leave the temple grounds."

"I didn’t want to become a figurehead. I still don’t," she mumbled, just barely loud enough for him to hear.

Noel looked at her quietly.

"So... you hold a grudge because I didn’t let you disappear from your entire life?"

"Yes."

"Got it."

He turned to walk toward the dormitories. She followed without hesitation.

"Anyway," Noel muttered, "I’d like to get some rest."

"Perfect," she chirped, still latched to his arm. "I’ll escort you. Traitors shouldn’t be left alone."

Noel clicked his tongue.

Charlotte’s head snapped toward him.

"Did you just—"

"I did."

"You clicked your tongue at the Saint of the Holy Capital."

"Yes."

"Unbelievable."

And yet, she didn’t let go.

Footsteps echoed from the far side of the courtyard.

Noel and Charlotte both turned their heads just as Marcus and Clara appeared from between two stone arches, with Garron and Laziel a few steps behind. They slowed at the sight in front of them: Charlotte clinging to Noel’s arm with both hands, her expression caught somewhere between triumphant and outraged.

Clara raised an eyebrow. "Charlotte, are you alright? He didn’t hurt you, did he?"

Charlotte blinked as if remembering something important. Then she beamed.

"Oh, that’s right! Now I remember—his name is Noel. But I still think traitor fits better."

Marcus looked confused. "Traitor?"

"Yes," Charlotte said seriously. "He’s a traitor."

Noel exhaled slowly and spoke before anyone else could.

"For the record: she ran away. The day she was supposed to be named Saint. I found her, brought her back, and now I’ve been sentenced to eternal slander."

Charlotte nodded. "Exactly."

"You’re proving my point."

Clara gave a small laugh behind her hand. "So you two know each other, I guess."

"Unfortunately," Noel muttered.

Garron chuckled. "Didn’t think I’d walk into a drama today."

Noel took a step back and addressed the group. "Anyway. Good to see you all. I’m going to my room before someone tries to canonize me for self-defense."

He turned to leave, Charlotte still holding onto his arm.

"Don’t think you’re getting away that easily, traitor!" she said, following him immediately.

Noel didn’t even respond.

"Hey! Did you just sigh again?"

Marcus watched them go in silence. After a beat, he turned to the others with a half-smile.

"...They seem to get along. We’re not going to have a problem with those two, are we?"

Clara crossed her arms. "They are the problem."

Laziel shrugged. "Should be fun to watch, at least."

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