The Nameless Extra: I Proofread This World

After everything that happened today, Ruvian finally came home safely. He did what he needed to do. His goal was done.

So now, there was nothing else for him to worry about. Nothing at all. Only one very important thing remained... which was rest.

Yes, when he said rest, he truly meant the non-negotiable one!

He had pushed both his mind and body too far. The pain and tiredness came back to him without mercy. The mana he forced himself to use now felt like a heavy debt, and his body was asking for it back.

His whole body hurt. A deep pain spread through his bones and muscles, not stopping even for a moment.

Even his mind felt slow and heavy.

Actually, he was not just tired. He had collapsed. No... that was not even the right word. His knees simply gave up in front of Silvena and Irene.

It had been spectacularly, embarrassing...

’Can’t help it... I really pushed past my limit.’

He let out a long, tired sigh. Then he closed his eyes and dropped onto his bed, his body spreading over the mattress like a soldier who had just returned from bloody war.

If not for Irene and her healing spell, he would not have been able to walk properly. The spell calmed the shaking in his legs and gave him just enough strength to stand.

And because of that small help, he had at least preserved the last shred of dignity required to make it home safely.

There were still a few weeks left before his enrollment. So for today, he decided to just rest and recover.

*****

[Silvena’s POV]

2 days later...

Near the tall arched window, where the sun’s final embers guttered weakly against the darkening glass, Silvena sat at her modest oak desk, a piece so unassuming it seemed almost misplaced within the grandeur of her study room.

Her chair was plain, straight-backed, without gilded arms or velvet cushions. It even let out a quiet protest whenever she adjusted, though, barely noticeable against the opulent surroundings.

Thick emerald drapery covered the stone like a mantle. Bookcases carved from dark mahogany that rose to the ceiling, gleaming in the warm light.

Crystal decanters rested untouched upon a side table inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and a Persian rug that softened every footfall.

And yet, at the center of this curated splendor, Silvena appeared almost austere. She sat upright, her expression composed to the point of serenity.

But the stillness was only surface-deep.

Behind her lowered lashes, her mind was moving quietly. She was thinking deeply about everything that had happened a few days ago... and about the words written in the book before her.

”So demons... still exist.”

The words sounded strange when she said them. They felt unfamiliar on her tongue, as if she was speaking something she was never meant to say out loud.

Demons.

She had grown up listening to stories about them—horned devils walking in dark forests, and scary beasts that took away foolish children who wandered outside the village at night.

Such stories were told by hearthfire. Just another wives’ tales meant to frighten the young into behaving.

Yes, perhaps some shard of truth lay buried within those stories. But demons themselves... they were said to be long gone.

500 years had passed since the Second Demon–Human War, when humans stood as one and destroyed the demons.

Everyone believed their race had been completely destroyed.

Or so the world believed...

Yet her own eyes had witnessed something that defied those records.

It had been real.

And if not for that dark-haired man—

Her thoughts slowly moved to another question.

What else had he seen in that so-called vision of his? If he had not stepped in... what kind of fate would have been waiting for them?

The thought made her chest feel heavy.

With a heavy sigh, Silvena closed the thick book in front of her. The cover was old and slightly worn, but the golden letters on it were still clear:

[Records of the Second Demon-Human War]

The book closed with a low, dull sound.

After that, she leaned back against her chair. For a moment, she allowed herself to stop thinking. She gently closed her eyes, deciding to let her mind rest, even if only for a short while.

After a few minutes, a knock sounded against her wooden door.

Knock. Knock.

”Yes, come in.”

The door opened slowly and quietly, as if the person behind it did not wish to disturb the silence. A young woman stepped inside. She wore a clean black-and-white maid uniform.

Her brown hair was drawn back with care, and her eyes, deep brown and calm as a windless autumn evening, held their warmth in her own natural way.

In her hands, she carried a porcelain cup set upon a matching saucer. Then, she approached the desk and placed the cup down with practiced gentleness.

”Your evening drink. It should help you rest.”

Silvena looked at the cup for a moment, then lifted her gaze to the young woman. A soft, tender smile appeared on her face.

The maid’s gaze shifted briefly to the closed tome on the desk.

”How are your studies progressing, my lady?”

Silvena let out a soft sigh and shook her head.

”Poorly,” she replied, with a hint of exaggeration in her tone.

”Or perhaps not poorly. Just... utterly useless.”

She leaned her cheek against her knuckles. ”I’ve read every record I could find. But every record says the same thing. The demons were completely annihilated. Erased. And gone!”

She gestured lazily toward the book. ”Not a single passage even suggests otherwise.”

”How preposterous.”

”It almost feels insulting. If demons truly still exist, then they have done an excellent job hiding for five hundred years after the second war.”

The maid remained composed, hands folded neatly before her apron. ”That may be so, but my lady, records are written by those who survive to write them.... and even then, absence of mention does not always mean absence of truth.”

”...”

Silvena turned slightly to her in slow disbelief, looking at her as though she had just watched her modest servant transform into an aged academic sage.

”...Hold on a second, since when did you begin speaking like a venerable grand historian?” Silvena asked slowly, turning fully in her chair to face her.

Her brows lifted in exaggerated suspicion. ”Is this truly the Irene I know... or have you been possessed by some demon?”

Silvena pressed a hand dramatically to her chest, as if deeply betrayed. ”Please return my old Irene. The quiet, agreeable one. I would like her back.”

Irene did not so much as blink. She stood with her hands neatly folded over her apron, expression calm as still water.

”I assure you, my lady. I remain entirely myself. And if I were a demon, I would have two horns on my head by now.”

Irene put her hands on top of her head and pointed out one finger from each, imitating a horn.

Silvena narrowed her eyes at her, studying her stoic face.

”Yes, yes, you’re not a demon, Irene,” Silvena continued, letting her head fall back against the chair, ”Anyway, you are meant to comfort me. Not suggest that five centuries of recorded history may be incomplete and possibly wrong.”

Irene tilted her head just slightly, so slightly it was almost unnoticeable.

”But I am comforting you, my lady,” she said in the same steady tone. ”If the records are imperfect, then your confusion is perfectly reasonable.”

”...Hmm, well, you do have a point.”

Silvena straightened in her seat and leaned forward, giving Irene a light, playful nudge at her side.

”And stop calling me that when it’s just the two of us,” she said, trying to sound stern but failing to hide the warmth in her voice.

Irene blinked a few times, though her expression barely shifted.

”It is proper, my lady.”

Silvena frowned and nudged her again, slightly harder this time.

”We are at home, and we are the same age.” Silvena insisted. ”And I believe that I’ve told you countless times before. You’re not just my attendant, Irene.”

Her voice softened.

”You’re... ahem, someone I care about.”

The words settled heavily between them.

Silvena was the only daughter of House D’Elvoire. From the moment she first opened her eyes, she had been wrapped in silk, etiquette, and expectation. Even children her age had once hesitated before addressing her.

Such was the invisible wall that came with a noble name.

But the young woman standing before her had never truly been part of that wall.

They had grown up within the same halls, running through the same corridors when they were small and sitting side by side during long lessons they both pretended to enjoy.

Irene had been there through scraped knees and scoldings, through awkward childhood years and the slow weight of responsibility settling onto Silvena’s shoulders.

A lot of years passed, but the bond between them did not change.

Though the world knew Irene as a servant of House D’Elvoire, as part of the Golden Ciphers... yet Silvena had long since regarded her as someone far more precious.

Somewhat like a twin sister whom fate had forgotten to grant her at her birth.

With a reluctant sigh, Irene looked away slightly.

”As you wish...”

”...Silvena.”

Silvena smiled fondly and said...

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[Chapter 26: Yes, That’s Better]