SHATTERED INNOCENCE: TRANSMIGRATED INTO A NOVEL AS AN EXTRA

The moment they stepped into the private transaction room, the atmosphere shifted. It was a familiar place—where high-value trades were conducted away from prying eyes—but this time, the weight in the air was different.

Corvina watched as Lucavion stepped forward, rolling his shoulders slightly before raising his hand. His fingers brushed over the surface of the spatial ring, a faint pulse of mana activating it.

And then—

The room was filled with monsters.

A heavy thud echoed as a massive carcass hit the stone floor, followed by another, and another. The pile grew, strange and grotesque forms stacking one over the other.

Corvina’s breath hitched, her normally composed face betraying a flicker of surprise.

Because what lay before her—

These were not creatures of this world.

Her sharp eyes swept over the bodies, taking in the details.

Scaled behemoths with jagged, crystalline growths protruding from their backs. Insect-like horrors, their exoskeletons pulsing faintly, as if even in death, they still carried traces of unnatural energy. Wolves with too many eyes, their fangs elongated into something closer to spears.

And then there were the larger ones—the ones that made her stomach twist just from looking at them.

They were beasts unlike anything she had seen before. Unlike anything that should exist in this land.

“These are…” she began, her voice betraying a rare moment of uncertainty.

Lucavion tilted his head, smirking ever so slightly. “The monsters that I mentioned.”

She turned to look at him, her sharp gaze narrowing.

There were a lot of them. Too many.

And if she had to guess, she was sure this wasn’t all of it.

Aeliana stood nearby, silent, but watching closely.

Corvina’s hands clenched slightly at her sides, her thoughts churning, her mind grasping at the single, burning question that refused to be ignored.

“Why?”

Lucavion, sensing the shift in the air, met her gaze without hesitation.

Corvina took a slow step forward, her expression unreadable, her voice barely above a whisper but heavy with emotion.

“Why?”

Lucavion blinked, tilting his head slightly. “Why what?”

Her hands pressed against the table, knuckles white.

“If you had the time and strength to deal with these monsters… If you were capable of hunting them down and returning with this haul…”

Her voice sharpened, cutting through the silence like a blade.

“Why didn’t you try to save them?”

Aeliana inhaled sharply at the accusation, but Corvina’s eyes were locked onto Lucavion alone.

She had let it sink in before. She had listened, analyzed, processed—but now?

Now she was angry.

Because the implication was clear.

Lucavion had fought.

Lucavion had survived.

Lucavion had slain these creatures—monsters that made even her, an experienced Guildmaster, feel unsettled.

And yet, he had declared the adventurers dead as if it was set in stone.

As if there had never been a chance.

Lucavion, for the first time since the conversation started, did not immediately answer.

Instead, he simply… looked at her.

A tense silence filled the room, thick enough to be suffocating.

Aeliana’s expression tightened, and she parted her lips, but before she could speak, Corvina pressed forward.

“You don’t know,” Corvina said, her voice steady but carrying an edge. “You don’t know what happened here while you were gone.”

Aeliana’s mouth shut.

Corvina’s gaze didn’t waver as she continued, her voice unwavering, laced with something cold—something real.

“Do you know how many adventurers came back maimed?” she asked. “How many lost their arms? Their legs?”

Lucavion said nothing.

Corvina’s hands curled into fists, pressing against the table. “How many children are crying right now because their fathers never returned? How many wives are grieving their husbands? How many guildmates left the expedition as a team—only to return alone?”

Aeliana exhaled softly, as if trying to say something—but before she could, Lucavion raised his hand.

She stopped.

Lucavion lowered his hand slowly, then turned his attention fully to Corvina.

He met her gaze, unflinching.

“Why didn’t I try to save them?”

His voice was calm.

Too calm.

Then, a small, humorless chuckle left his lips.

“That’s right,” he said softly, as if agreeing with her accusation. “I could have tried to save more lives.”

Corvina’s breath caught.

His voice wasn’t defensive. It wasn’t angry.

It was something far worse.

It was empty.

Lucavion’s dark eyes held hers, steady, unwavering. “Maybe I could have tried to look for more people. Maybe I could have pulled them under my wing. Maybe—” He let out a slow exhale. “Maybe it would have been harder, but I could have tried.”

Aeliana shifted slightly beside him, her amber eyes darkening.

Lucavion looked down at the monster carcasses spread out before them, his gaze distant.

“I could have.”

A pause.

“But I didn’t.”

His voice was quiet, yet it sliced through the air like a blade.

The silence in the room was suffocating. Lucavion remained still, his eyes fixed on the grotesque carcasses before him, as if seeing something far beyond the bodies lying there.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then, his voice broke through the quiet—calm, steady, and sharp as a blade drawn in warning.

“Miss Corvina. I am not a saint. If you have thought of me as such, then you are mistaken.”

Corvina inhaled slowly, feeling the weight behind his words.

Lucavion finally looked up, locking eyes with her. There was no humor in his gaze now, no lingering amusement that so often accompanied his words.

“Don’t you already know my nickname? The title that people have given me.”

Corvina’s lips parted slightly, her mind supplying the answer before she even realized she had spoken aloud.

“Sword Demon…”

Lucavion gave a slow nod. “That’s right.” His voice didn’t waver, nor did his expression change. “My name is Sword Demon. Not Sword Saint.”

A pause.

“And there is a reason for that.”

Corvina stared at him, something cold curling in her chest.

She had heard the stories.

The whispers.

Corvina exhaled slowly, forcing herself to maintain her composure as she studied the man before her.

“Your nickname…” she murmured, fingers tapping lightly against the table. “Wasn’t it because you played with your opponents in the tournament? Should I take it as something different?”

Lucavion’s expression remained unchanged.

“You should.”

His voice was calm—far too calm.

Corvina’s sharp gaze did not falter. If anything, her focus only grew sharper.

But before she could speak again, Lucavion leaned forward slightly, placing his elbow on the table, his gloved fingers lightly resting against his chin.

“And you must also remember,” he said, his tone taking on a deliberate weight, “I am here for business.”

His words hung in the air, and then his smirk faded, his eyes darkening.

“For what right do you think you have to question my decisions?”

Corvina’s breath hitched.

Lucavion tilted his head slightly, his next words cutting like a sharpened blade.

“Did we make some sort of deal for that?”

A pause.

His voice, still measured, still impossibly composed, dropped into something lower. Something colder.

“Even if I could have saved them,” he continued, his tone devoid of hesitation, “every single one of those adventurers knew the risks when they chose to join the expedition.”

The moment the words left his mouth, a shift occurred.

A subtle, suffocating pressure filled the air.

Corvina immediately recognized it.

A leak of his aura.

It wasn’t intentional.

It wasn’t aggressive.

But it was enough to warn her.

Enough to remind her.

Lucavion did not raise his voice.

He did not slam his hand against the table.

And yet, the sheer weight of his presence—the raw, unwavering certainty in his words—was enough to feel like a blade had been drawn between them.

His eyes, dark and unreadable, locked onto hers.

“You are being unprofessional, Guildmaster.”

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