The Extra is a Genius!?-Chapter 148: The Quiet Game

The midday sun cast long beams across the orphanage courtyard, warming the old stone walls and the patches of worn grass where the children played. Laughter echoed in the air—soft, distant, like wind chimes on a gentle breeze.

Noel stood at the edge of the clearing, one foot planted over a small leather ball. Across from him, just a few paces away, stood Erick. The boy was watching intently, his brown hair ruffled by the wind, his little hands clenched at his sides.

Noel raised a brow.

"You ready?"

Erick gave a small nod.

With a smooth motion, Noel tapped the ball forward. It rolled straight toward Erick’s feet.

Erick panicked for a second—his legs twitched, almost as if he would miss it—but then he stuck out a foot and stopped it with surprising precision. He looked up, just a flash, and smiled.

’That’s new,’ Noel thought. ’Did he just smile?’

The boy nudged it back.

Noel stopped the ball easily and kicked it again, this time with a little more force. The pass rolled longer, forcing Erick to chase after it a few steps before stopping it.

They repeated the motion. Again. And again.

Soon, Erick began to giggle—quiet at first, then louder. He didn’t speak, didn’t say a word, but the brightness in his eyes said enough.

Other children noticed, but none joined. They just glanced occasionally while continuing their own games. Erick, as usual, stayed apart. Except today, he had someone on his side.

Noel feigned a fake stumble after a fast return pass and dramatically fell to the ground.

"Argh! I’ve been defeated!"

Erick covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. His cheeks flushed.

Noel leaned back on the grass, hands behind his head, looking up at the bright blue sky.

"You’re getting better. I might lose next time."

Erick tilted his head and then sat beside him—still not saying anything, but closer now than before.

’He’s opening up... even if it’s just a bit. That’s good.’

And for a moment, under the golden sky and surrounded by echoes of distant joy, the world felt simple.

Too simple.

’Which probably means it’s about to get complicated again,’ Noel thought grimly.

The afternoon passed without much disruption. After helping with lunch and giving a nod to Marcus and Clara as they played with the other children, Noel excused himself under the pretense of checking the storage cellar. No one questioned him—he was quiet, responsible, a bit odd perhaps, but helpful.

That evening, as the sun dipped below the rooftops of the Holy Capital, Noel stood near the edge of the chapel hallway. The corridors were quiet now, lit only by flickering wall-mounted lamps of enchanted glass. The rest of the orphans were already heading to bed, and the priests and priestesses had returned to their quarters for evening prayers.

Noel climbed back up to the room he shared with Marcus, Garron, and Laziel.

Marcus was already half-asleep, sprawled out across the lower bunk. Garron was reading a leather-bound book by candlelight, while Laziel muttered something in his sleep, curled up under a thick blanket.

Noel closed the door silently behind him.

He moved to his bed and, with calm precision, reached under the mattress and pulled out a small bundle of linens. He tied them together with practiced speed, stuffing it with his spare shirt, trousers, and a sack of dry herbs to mimic the shape and volume of a sleeping body.

With the blanket carefully draped over it, the dummy looked almost too convincing.

’They soaked me with water two days ago. No way they’re checking again. If they do, I’ll just act like a demon-possessed corpse.’

He smirked, grabbed his coat and slowly slipped out, soundless like a shadow.

The air was cooler now, brushing across the silent cloisters as Noel moved along the inner corridors of the church.

He descended a narrow staircase—one he’d memorized earlier while pretending to help carry supplies. It led to the southern wing, close to the undercroft.

Soon, he reached a long corridor made of pale gray stone. At the far end stood two iron-banded wooden doors flanked by guards in white armor trimmed with gold. Their halberds were polished, their posture straight—unmoving like statues.

Noel stopped at the corner, just out of sight.

’Two guards. Same as yesterday. No badges on their uniforms... but that pattern—definitely high rank. Only inner-circle members get stationed down here.’

He crouched low, eyes narrowing.

One of the guards turned slightly, speaking to the other in a whisper too low for Noel to hear.

Noel focused. There was no way through. No excuse, no disguise, no secret passage.

’Only the upper clergy can enter. I’ll need to take someone’s face to get in.’

He clenched his jaw.

’So it really comes to that... The Veilweaver’s Charm. Looks like I’ll be using you again.’

With one last glance, he turned and melted back into the shadows, vanishing up the stairs as silently as he came.

By the time Noel reached the hallway leading to the dormitories, the lamps had dimmed, casting soft golden halos across the worn stone. The orphanage was quiet now—peaceful in a way that made each footstep echo louder than it should.

He moved swiftly, the shadows hugging his steps as he approached the door to the boys’ room. It was still slightly ajar, just as he had left it.

Inside, the familiar sound of soft breathing filled the space.

Marcus lay on his side, snoring faintly. Garron was slumped in the chair by the window, arms crossed. Laziel’s blankets rose and fell with slow rhythm, hiding everything but a few strands of silver hair.

Noel stepped inside, gently pulled the door closed behind him, and approached his bunk. The bundle of blankets he had arranged was still there—untouched.

’Good. Guess they thought I was sleeping like a corpse.’

He pulled the fake body aside, and dismantle it and climbed up quietly. The mattress creaked, but not enough to wake anyone. He exhaled, his muscles relaxing for the first time in hours.

Just as he settled under the covers, something moved in the hallway.

The sound of footsteps.

A faint rustle.

Through the narrow crack of the door he’d left ajar, a figure passed.

A girl in white.

Charlotte.

She had just exited the bathroom, towel in hand, her pink hair damp and a little messy. She paused in front of her own door—right across the hall. freewebnøvel_com

Then, for the briefest moment, she looked over her shoulder.

Her eyes caught a glimpse of golden hair disappearing into the shadows of the boys’ room.

She blinked.

’Was that... Noel?’

But she didn’t investigate.

Instead, she gave a tiny shrug, whispered "Pervert," under her breath with a half-smile, and stepped into her room, quietly closing the door behind her.

Noel, already lying flat on his back, hadn’t seen her. But something made him glance toward the door anyway.

’...Better not have been anyone important.’

He closed his eyes.

The quiet crept in again.

Sleep followed.

New novel chapters are published on fr(e)ew𝒆bnov(e)l.com