Path of the Extra

While Nivella seemed to have turned to stone with a mortified expression, Azriel sipped his caramel latte with a calm demeanor.

‘Ah, this is really amazing! I can understand why Nol is such a foodie!’

With a delighted smile on his face, Azriel let out a satisfied sigh before glancing at Nivella. He coughed lightly, pulling her out of her daze. She snapped back to reality, turning toward Azriel with wide eyes—only for her expression to twist from mortified to even more mortified as Solomon’s words registered in her ears.

“Y-Y-You’re P-Prince Azriel C-Crimson!?”

Azriel merely smiled gently at the shaken girl, nodding subtly. At the same time, Solomon walked over with an annoyed expression, his face scrunched up as he exaggeratedly glared daggers at Azriel. Yet, as if his skin were impossibly thick, Azriel didn’t seem to notice.

“Thank you, Miss Nivella, for keeping me company. It seems my friend has arrived, though I must apologize—it seems that learning to speak in a quieter voice is still a difficult task for someone like him.”

His words made Nivella’s face drain of all color, as if someone had sucked the blood from her veins. She swayed slightly before, with robotic slowness, she turned her head toward Solomon—only to find him suddenly right next to her. Her heart froze.

Solomon met her eyes, and in an instant, his entire expression shifted. The annoyance vanished, replaced by a gentle warmth as he flashed a dazzling smile, making her heart skip a beat. Before she could process what was happening, he gracefully took her right hand and knelt. Then, to her absolute horror, she felt the soft sensation of lips press against the back of her hand. Her breath hitched.

Still kneeling, Solomon pulled away slightly, looking up at her with that same warm, dazzling expression. She blinked, still registering what had just happened.

“It is an honor to meet you, Lady Nivella. I apologize for my tardiness—His Highness must have bored you for far too long. But worry not, for I am here to save you from this troublesome child.”

Like a fire had been lit, her face burned a deep scarlet. A wave of overwhelming embarrassment, confusion, and horror crashed over her as she staggered back. The lingering warmth of Solomon’s touch on her hand only made it worse.

‘He k-k-kissed me!? The Saint—Saint Solomon kissed me!? AHHHH! What is happening!?’

She was just a humble girl working in a small coffee shop! How was she suddenly face-to-face with Prince Azriel Crimson and Saint Solomon—two of the most famous people currently residing in CASC!? What were the chances!? No, more importantly—what were the chances of getting kissed by the infamous Saint Solomon!?

‘W-Wait! I was talking with Prince Azriel Crimson!? Ah—my head! I need to bow!’

Just as she was about to lower herself into a deep bow, Azriel’s voice made her freeze.

“Please, there’s no need for you to lower yourself, Miss Nivella. These amazing donuts alone are enough to make me the one bowing.”

Her eyes widened.

“I-I…”

Words failed her. She stood there, gaping like a fish gasping for water.

Like a knight on a white horse, Solomon threw her a lifeline.

“Are they really that good? Then, Lady Nivella, may I order the same thing Azriel has?”

Looking at Solomon—who was still gazing at her with that same dazzling smile—her heart skipped yet another beat. Without thinking, she blurted out,

“Y-Yes! I’ll make you the best one in the world!”

Then, she ran away.

Solomon and Azriel watched her retreating figure before chuckling quietly at the same time.

The moment she was far enough, Solomon’s face twisted back into an annoyed scowl.

“You—how dare you use my number as a bargaining chip for a cadet mission? Do you have any idea that there’s a certain incredibly powerful old hag who would give anything to have it!?”

Azriel, avoiding his gaze, turned his head slightly and took another bite of his donut, feigning ignorance.

In a blur, Solomon’s hand moved.

Azriel blinked.

His donuts were gone.

Now in Solomon’s grasp.

Still glaring at him, Solomon took a bite, chewing with exaggerated satisfaction.

Azriel’s face darkened.

‘I am giving Grandmother your number… one day.’

Not today.

But…

One day.

For sure.

Meanwhile, Solomon’s expression shifted from irritation to pure bliss as he devoured the stolen treats. Azriel watched him with unconcealed resentment. Once finished, Solomon wiped the crumbs off his lips with his thumb, then, as if he hadn’t been fuming seconds ago, he spoke in a cheerful voice.

“By the way, who’s that lady? She seems fun. And cute.”

Azriel’s lips curled into a subtle smirk.

“No one special, really. Just a normal waitress… for now, at least.”

He glanced at Nivella from the corner of his eye, watching as she prepared another caramel latte with an intense focus, her ears burning red.

‘…One of the final members of Lumine’s harem.’

That was who she was—Nivella.

Her little brother would get lost. Lumine would find him. And, after some typical cliché events, they’d reunite with Nivella, who would be indebted and grateful. That was how they’d meet. How they’d grow close. How they would eventually become involved with FreeWings.

It was no coincidence that Azriel was here today, meeting her for the first time.

The auction was in a few days, and there were things he needed to take care of.

‘Yelena, Celestina, Jasmine, Anastasia, Nivella, and one more…’

The last name lingered in his mind.

‘…Well, I’ll meet her soon. Regretfully.’

He wasn’t exactly in the mood to meet the final member of Lumine’s harem, but it was inevitable, considering the auction.

As he mulled over his thoughts, Solomon spoke again.

“So? Why did you ask me to meet you here? Is this about that drama I’ve been hearing? Something about a containment facility? Or is it about that auction?”

Azriel shook his head.

But before he could answer, he spotted Nivella approaching with two plates in her hands. He quickly put on a gentle smile—one that mirrored Solomon’s.

“I thought you might like another plate, Your Highness,” she said with a polite tilt of her head.

“Ah, of course, it’s on the house!”

As she set the plates in front of them, both Azriel and Solomon thanked her. She smiled—her cheeks and ears still flushed red—then, as if realizing she had lingered too long, turned and all but fled.

Solomon chuckled, taking a sip from his cup. The moment the taste registered, his eyes lit up.

“Gods, Azriel, this is delicious!”

Azriel nodded.

“Nol recommended it to me.”

“Ha! That silver-haired brat really is something.”

As he savored the taste of his drink, Azriel reached into his storage ring and pulled out a stack of documents. Without a word, he tossed them onto the table.

Solomon paused mid-sip, setting his cup down before picking up the papers with a confused expression.

“What’s this?”

Azriel tapped his fingers absentmindedly against the wooden surface, his voice calm and even.

“I made you a promise. Do you remember? Back in EASC, inside that coffee shop… I told you I’d get you information about her.”

He watched as Solomon’s expression hardened, his face shifting into an unreadable mask.

The temperature in the room plummeted.

Azriel shivered, breath hitching. Even from afar, Nivella was trembling even more violently than him. She fumbled with a container of salt, knocking it over with a startled yelp.

And just like that, the oppressive air vanished.

Azriel exhaled softly, glancing back at Solomon, who was now reading the documents. His expression remained eerily calm. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost enigmatic.

“You must have pulled a lot of strings to get this.”

“I did.”

“To think my mother went this far… just to hide from me.”

Azriel leaned back slightly.

“The file you’re holding is the only one in existence. You don’t have to worry about anyone finding out—or using it against you.”

Solomon remained silent for a long moment. Then, in a low voice, he murmured,

“Yes. Now, no one can. No one except you.”

A strange feeling crawled up Azriel’s spine.

Suddenly, his body felt paralyzed. His limbs refused to move, his heart hammering violently against his ribs.

Solomon’s gaze bore into him.

“For someone as young as you… I truly respect you, you know?” His tone was almost casual, yet something beneath it sent a chill down Azriel’s skin.

“You’ve already experienced and survived things that even I envy. So, tell me, Azriel… as the Prince of the Crimson Clan, what do you plan to do with this knowledge about me?”

The suffocating weight lifted as quickly as it had come.

Azriel inhaled deeply, forcing himself to regain composure. Then, he smiled slightly.

“Your mother. Everything in that file about her—it will never be spoken of, known of, or revealed. This knowledge… we will take it to our graves. At least, on my part, I can promise you that. After all, we’re partners, aren’t we?”

Their crimson eyes locked.

Seconds stretched into minutes.

Neither wavered.

An invisible pressure—one neither of them had created—seemed to fill the space between them.

Then—

“Well, that’s great, isn’t it, my dear partner in crime?”

Solomon’s lips stretched into a wide grin, and just like that, the atmosphere shifted.

The suffocating tension vanished in an instant.

Azriel let out a quiet breath of relief.

And when he blinked—

The file was gone.

At the same time, both of them reached for their cups, tipping them back in unison, draining the contents in one swift motion. As they set them down, Azriel finally spoke.

“I do have something else to say.”

“Oh? Please, go on.”

“As you can see, I’ve become a Grade 3 Advanced.”

“Yes. And you’ve decided to go down the path of ugly, long hair like Ragnar and Joaquin, I see.”

Azriel ignored the jab.

“…I want you to train me.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…”

Solomon blinked.

“…Are you saying you want to become my disciple? Me, your master? Master and disciple? Sensei and student? You… me?”

Azriel’s lips twitched. He sighed, nodding with an annoyed expression.

“Yes. I may have an unusual amount of experience for my age, and I have the resources of the Crimson Clan… but I still have a lot to learn. I’m far from perfect, far from good even. And… out of everyone, I think I’d be most comfortable with you as my master.”

For a moment, Solomon was silent.

Then, Azriel noticed something strange.

His head was lowered. His body trembling slightly.

Azriel frowned, confused.

Then—

“HAHAHAHA! I TOLD THAT WITCH FREYA YOU WOULD CHOOSE ME!”

Loud, unrestrained laughter erupted from Solomon’s lips.

He slammed his hands on the table so hard that the plates rattled.

Azriel blinked.

“Even your father thought you’d never even speak to me four years ago! Look at how wrong they were! Serves them right!” Solomon cackled, throwing his head back.

“Ah, this is great! The best feeling ever!”

Azriel stared at him, utterly dumbfounded.

Then, he let out a wry chuckle.

“…So, I assume you’re pleased?”

“Pleased?” Solomon grinned wickedly.

“I’m beyond pleased! Screw what they used to say about your talent! Your potential is limitless, and I’ll make sure even the gods start fearing you!”

With a happy expression, Solomon started munching on the donuts as Azriel watched him.

Then, letting out a long sigh, Azriel turned his head towards the window, gazing outside.

“Well then, I’ll be in your care, Master.”

“Oh, don’t worry, my dear disciple. I’ll make sure you win the Tournament of the Greats—even against all those terrifyingly talented kids!”

…And just like that, Azriel had become the sole disciple of Solomon Dragonheart—a man who had never, in his entire life, taken a disciple. It was an incredible achievement.

Azriel smiled at his words.

‘Terrifyingly talented kids, huh… Well, I suppose they’re all like that.’

Their progress was so rapid that even Solomon himself would be left astonished.

After another minute of peaceful silence, Azriel parted his lips, speaking in a soft voice. Something melancholic flickered through his eyes, though only for a brief moment.

“On the day of the auction… you won’t be going, will you?”

Solomon shook his head.

“Freya is attending. I’ll hold the academy down until she returns.”

“I see.”

A second passed before Azriel spoke again.

“…Make sure to trust Freya and the others, and be patient.”

“Hmm? My disciple, are you planning something again? If it’s dangerous, then, as the responsible master I am, I should advise you against getting yourself killed.”

“Don’t worry. This time, it’s not something even I can control or change. I’ll simply be going there for my own sake.”

Solomon looked at him for a moment before continuing to munch on his donuts.

“Well, if you say so. Just make sure you don’t die. I’d hate for my first and only disciple to get killed before I get to tort—train him.”

“….”

Azriel narrowed his eyes at Solomon.

‘He was going to say torture, wasn’t he?!’

…He should have just gone to Amaya. His kind, beautiful, lovely maid.

Azriel’s body shuddered as he gritted his teeth.

‘Dad and Jasmine are right… I’m way too reckless!’

*****

After Azriel and Solomon finished their meal, the soft chime of the doorbell rang as they stepped out together, leaving behind only empty plates—the remnants of their food and drinks cleared away.

Nivella stared at the closed door, her lips trembling, her entire body quivering.

“C-Crazy! They’re crazy!”