Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra-Chapter 594: A past that has been faced

Lucavion walked through the dimly lit streets of Varenthia, the cold night air settling over him like a second skin. The echoes of the city had quieted now, the chaos of battle nothing more than a memory painted in blood and smoke. The weight of exhaustion pressed into his bones, but his steps remained steady, his posture as effortless as ever.

Above him, the sky stretched vast and starless—no comforting light, no celestial glow to guide him. Only the remnants of a long night and the distant hum of a city in transition.

And then—

[They were courteous,] Vitaliara's voice drifted into his mind, smooth yet contemplative. [Not something you would expect from mere bandits.]

Lucavion chuckled softly. "It is often those who face the hardships of the world that show the most courtesy."

Vitaliara fell silent.

Lucavion exhaled, his fingers brushing over the inside of his coat where the tokens lay, nestled alongside the vial of Aethermist. A reward. A recognition of his part in this city's shift in power.

But none of it felt particularly important right now.

Because, despite everything—despite the smirk he had worn, despite the ease with which he had accepted their gifts—his body hurt.

A deep, lingering ache settled in his limbs, the toll of the battle creeping through his every movement. His core, though stabilized, was sealed. He could feel its absence, like a limb that had gone numb but had yet to be severed. It wasn't pain, not exactly, but something close. Something he didn't quite have the words for.

[I have a lot of questions, Lucavion.]

'I know you do.'

His tone was quieter now, lacking its usual teasing edge.

'I will answer them now.'

His pace didn't falter as he made his way back to the residence Draven had arranged for him

Lucavion pushed open the heavy wooden door, stepping into the dimly lit interior of the residence. The warmth of the place greeted him instantly, a stark contrast to the cold streets outside.

His gaze flicked around the spacious, lavishly furnished rooms. Gold-trimmed decor, fine velvet drapes, furniture that belonged in the estates of nobles rather than the hideout of a crime lord. Even after spending time here, it still amused him how absurdly extravagant Draven's tastes were.

However, something was different this time.

Caius wasn't here.

Lucavion's eyes narrowed slightly as he scanned the room. Normally, the man would have been lounging somewhere, either drinking or looking like he had just barely survived yet another disaster. But now—

Gone.

"Hmm." Lucavion exhaled lightly, rolling his shoulders. "Well, let's hope that he's alive. Though…" A smirk tugged at his lips. "He does have the luck of a cockroach."

With that, he made his way deeper into the residence, heading toward the one place he had been looking forward to since the moment his body started aching—

The bath.

One of the few luxuries worth indulging in.

Draven's absurd wealth had at least been put to good use here. The bathhouse attached to the residence was massive, practically a private sanctuary, lined with intricate magical engravings. The water's temperature could be adjusted instantly—hot, cold, anything in between—and enchanted herbs infused the steam with a subtle, refreshing scent.

Lucavion stepped inside, the faint mist curling around him as he moved. The warmth in the air seeped into his skin even before he touched the water, soothing the weariness clinging to his limbs.

Slowly, he peeled off his coat, then the rest of his tattered, bloodstained clothing, letting each piece fall carelessly to the floor.

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The moment he did—

[I am monitoring your condition.]

Lucavion paused, one brow arching slightly. Then—

A smirk.

"Are you sure you don't just want to peek at this body of mine?" His voice was laced with playful arrogance as he tilted his head slightly. "Aye… You're making me shy, Vitaliara."

Silence.

Instead—

[Hmph. Believe what you want.]

Lucavion chuckled under his breath.

Lucavion simply shook his head, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips. "I don't mind it," he said smoothly, rolling his shoulders as he stepped forward. "If my body is that fascinating, who am I to deny you the view?"

[Tch. Arrogant bastard.]

His smirk lingered as he finally let his posture ease, allowing the warm mist to settle around him.

Now that his clothes were off, his body—every scar, every mark of battle—was fully exposed.

And there were many.

Old wounds, long since healed, crisscrossed his skin like a history carved into flesh. Some were faint, barely noticeable unless one looked closely. Others were deeper, jagged, remnants of battles that had pushed him to the brink.

But the freshest ones—the ones from his fight with Aldric—still lingered.

The burns, the bruises, the slashes that had been carved into him with mana-infused strikes… those wounds didn't just fade with time.

Injuries laced with another person's mana were always harder to heal. The foreign energy resisted outside interference, clinging to his wounds like a stubborn parasite.

Lucavion had experienced it before. He was used to it.

Didn't mean it wasn't annoying.

He exhaled lightly, stepping into the bath. The water was hot, perfectly so, its temperature shaped by the engravings that ran along the marble floor. The moment it touched his skin, a deep, satisfying warmth seeped into his muscles, easing the exhaustion that clung to him like a second skin.

Then, as he fully lowered himself into the water—

"Ahh…~"

He let out a quiet, drawn-out moan.

Just the right amount of breathy.

Just enough to sound a little too pleased.

And—

[LUUUCAVION.]

Vitaliara's voice snapped through his mind, sharp and immediate.

Lucavion grinned. "Hoh? What's wrong?" He tilted his head slightly, his smirk growing. "I was just expressing my appreciation for the bath. You're not getting flustered, are you?"

[I WILL KILL YOU.]

Lucavion laughed, low and rich, leaning back against the smooth edge of the bath.

"Now, now," he murmured, closing his eyes, his voice dripping with amusement. "What happened to monitoring my condition?"

[I am monitoring it! And I'd rather not hear you making those sounds while I do it!]

Lucavion exhaled, his grin softening slightly.

Teasing her was always too easy.

But there was something oddly comforting about their exchange.

Like, despite everything—despite the battle, despite his sealed core, despite the weight pressing down on him—he could still be himself.

He let his body sink further into the warmth, feeling the tension in his muscles begin to unwind.

"Fine, fine," he murmured, stretching slightly. "I'll behave."

[You better.]

A pause.

Then, quieter—

[…Are the injuries still bothering you?]

Lucavion's smirk faded just slightly. He opened one eye, glancing at the faint scars running across his arms. The lingering traces of Aldric's mana still pulsed faintly in the deeper wounds, resisting the warmth of the bath.

He inhaled slowly.

"It'll pass."

Vitaliara didn't respond immediately.

Then—

[You're used to pain.]

It wasn't a question.

Lucavion let out a quiet chuckle, tilting his head back against the stone. "It's a familiar companion."

Another pause.

[…Hmph. Idiot.]

Lucavion simply smiled.

Vitaliara settled into one of the cushioned seats near the edge of the bath, her golden fur illuminated softly by the warm light flickering from the enchanted lanterns above. She curled her tail around herself, her posture deceptively relaxed—though Lucavion knew better.

She was waiting.

Her sharp eyes never left him, unwavering in their quiet demand.

Lucavion stretched, letting the water soak into his aching muscles, before finally tilting his head toward her with a lazy smirk.

"Bring it on."

Vitaliara didn't hesitate.

[Aldric Venthorin… He called you 'the boy with the scarred eye.']

Lucavion's smirk didn't fade, but something in his gaze shifted ever so slightly.

"Yes."

A beat of silence passed between them before she finally asked—

[What… what happened?]

Her voice wasn't just curious—it was searching.

Lucavion exhaled, running a hand through his damp hair. "That's a long story…" His tone was light, teasing, but there was something in the way he said it that made it clear—this wasn't just a tale to be told over a drink.

[I want to hear everything.]

Lucavion tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering across his features.

"Oh…?"

His voice carried the usual mischief, but there was an edge of something else beneath it.

Something unreadable.

Something from the past.