The Extra is a Genius!?-Chapter 164: One Year Left

The light that filtered into the chamber was dim—filtered through red-stained glass, casting long shadows on the stone floor. Incense burned slowly near the altar, leaving the air warm and heavy.

Charlotte sat across from Father Orthran, her small hands wrapped around a still-warm cup of herbal tea she hadn’t touched.

The office, nestled deep in the lower sanctum of the Holy Cathedral, had once felt safe. Familiar.

Now, it felt... quiet but not peaceful.

She didn’t speak at first. Neither did he.

Orthran looked older today.

He always had white hair, always carried the gravity of age—but today, his posture was heavier, his expression more distant. His robes were folded clean, but his hands trembled faintly as he turned the pages of a report he wasn’t truly reading.

Charlotte looked at him, her voice soft.

"You should rest."

Orthran smiled gently.

"And leave everything in someone else’s hands? I can’t do that—not after everything that’s happened."

She lowered her gaze. "You’re not to blame."

He didn’t answer.

For a moment, the only sound was the crackling candle near his desk.

"You were five," he said suddenly, voice low. "When I took you from that orphanage. The same one... where all this happened."

Charlotte didn’t look up, but her fingers tightened around the cup.

"I raised you to carry hope. And yesterday... I nearly let the world extinguish it."

Her voice cracked slightly. "I’m still here."

"Yes." He gave her a tired smile. "Yes, you are."

To him, she wasn’t just the Saint.

She was his granddaughter.

His only family.

And that made everything that had happened... so much worse.

Orthran set the cup aside, finally speaking with more weight behind his voice.

"I’ve already sent messages to King Alveron IV and the high seats in Elarith. Reinforcements are coming. We need bodies to guard the city while we regroup—mages, knights, wardens. Anyone who can be trusted."

Charlotte nodded slowly. "How long will it take?"

"Not long. The Emperor already gave his word. And Elarith won’t stay idle after hearing the Saint was nearly assassinated."

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"The hard part is what to tell the people. Rumors are already spreading faster than we can contain them." freewebnσvel.cøm

Charlotte frowned. "About what happened to me?"

"Partly. Everyone knows there was an attack. That you were the target. That we stopped it. But we left out the rest—the ruins, the experiments, the traitors inside our own walls."

Charlotte looked down again.

"But people will ask questions."

"They will," Orthran admitted. "But better questions than panic. If they knew how close we came to collapse..."

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Instead, he looked toward the window, where the light from the cathedral’s outer walls shimmered weakly through smoke-stained glass.

"We’ll tell them enough to maintain trust. But the Holy Capital keeps its secrets for a reason."

Charlotte shifted in her seat, the silence stretching again.

Then she asked, without lifting her eyes, "Why didn’t I sense them?"

Orthran looked at her carefully, then gave a small sigh—less of frustration, more of understanding.

"You’re thinking you failed."

"...I didn’t even flinch when they were near. Not once. That guard, the nun—people I saw almost every day."

He leaned forward, his voice firm but calm.

"They had help. Each one of them carried an artifact—crafted specifically to mask their presence. Not just from your gift. From all divine senses."

Charlotte blinked. "I didn’t even know those existed."

"They’re extremely rare. And extremely dangerous. We believe they were made outside the continents, maybe even through dark pactcraft." He paused. "That’s how they walked freely in front of you. And in front of me."

Her jaw clenched, guilt simmering under her calm expression.

"But when I activated the Sacred Blessing," Orthran continued, "those artifacts were burned away. That’s when you started noticing the smell, right?"

She nodded slowly.

"That’s when I knew something was wrong," she whispered. "It all hit at once."

Orthran gave a tired chuckle.

"You didn’t fail, Charlotte. They just covered their rot well. But once the veil lifted... you saw them for what they were."

She exhaled, not quite smiling—but not trembling anymore either.

Orthran sat back, his hands resting on the edge of the desk. He was quiet for a moment, eyes distant.

"You know what tradition says," he began. "After a manifestation like yours—after surviving something like this—you should already be assuming your role fully."

Charlotte said nothing.

"You’re the Saint, Charlotte. The people will want you on the front lines. At the ceremonies. Visiting the temples. Healing the wounded." He looked at her gently. "They’ll expect you to carry the light everywhere you go."

"I know," she said softly.

Orthran hesitated. Then, he added in a lower voice:

"But after what happened... maybe we can do things differently. Just this once."

She looked up at him, unsure.

"I’m not saying you can ignore your duty," he said. "But I think... you deserve one year. Just one. To live on your terms."

Charlotte blinked, surprised—but she didn’t interrupt.

"So," he continued, "if there’s anything you want to do, anything that still feels like yours... now’s the time to say it."

Charlotte looked down at her hands.

"I want to go to the Imperial Academy," she said. "In Valor."

Orthran raised an eyebrow. "The academy?"

She nodded, more certain this time.

"It might be the safest place for me now. And... I want to be around people my age. Just once. Just for a little while."

He looked at her carefully.

"That’s really what you want?"

Charlotte met his gaze, eyes calm but steady.

"I want to live... even if it’s just for one year. As myself."

Orthran leaned back again, exhaling slowly.

"You do realize... you won’t be living a normal life there," he said, his voice soft but clear. "Your name and face are already known. People in Valor saw your image during the announcement, and word’s spread fast. You’ll be recognized the moment you walk through the gates."

Charlotte’s shoulders dropped, and her eyes dimmed slightly.

"So... there’s no way to pretend I’m just another student?"

Orthran watched the hurt flash across her face.

But before he could speak, Charlotte straightened in her seat again.

"There’s always a solution for everything... right?"

He raised a brow. "...What are you thinking?"

Charlotte tapped her chin with a finger. "There’s an item. I read about it once. It’s called the Veilweaver’s Charm. It lets you change your appearance."

Orthran blinked in surprise. "How do you know about that?"

She smiled innocently and lifted two fingers in a small X, holding it playfully in front of her lips.

"It’s a secret."

He chuckled, shaking his head.

"You never change."

Then, more seriously, he added, "There is an item like that, yes. Not the exact same one, but something similar. It allows the user to shift their appearance at will—and, more importantly, to turn the effect on and off whenever they like."

Charlotte’s eyes lit up for the first time that day.

"So I can still be... me," she whispered. "But only when I choose to."

Orthran gave her a warm, grandfatherly smile. "Yes. For one year... you can."

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