The Extra's Reincarnation-Chapter 131: First Official Day

"I insist. Consider it my way of making restitution. Besides," her lips curved into a small smile, "as a special admission student, you're entitled to additional support from faculty members."

Before I could protest further, Kiera stood and made a subtle gesture with her hand.

A shimmering distortion appeared in the air beside my bed.

"This will take you directly back to your dormitory. I imagine you'd prefer to avoid the curious stares of students if you were to walk through the halls at this hour."

I nodded gratefully, though part of me was still wary of accepting any favor from her after what had happened.

"Thank you, Principal Nyx."

"Please, call me Kiera when we're speaking privately."

I hesitated, then nodded again.

"Thank you... Kiera."

As I rose from the bed and approached the portal I left hoping to forget this very day.

***

"Rise and shine, Sir Julian!"

Vykekard's voice boomed from where I'd placed him on my bedside table.

"Your first real day of academy life awaits!"

I groaned, pulling my pillow over my head. "Do you have to be so enthusiastic this early?"

"Early? The sun has been up for hours! Your roommates left ages ago!"

I bolted upright, suddenly alert. "What time is it?"

"Nearly eight-thirty. Classes begin at nine."

Cursing under my breath, I scrambled out of bed. Rean and Tylo must have tried to wake me, but after last night's ordeal, I'd slept like the dead.

"We've got no time. We need to get to the faculty office before I can get myself assigned to classes."

Quickly I grabbed Vykekard with my own hands and tied him to my hip, rushing off.

WHOOOSH!

The dormitory was nearly empty as I hurried through the corridors.

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Most students were already at breakfast or heading to their assigned classrooms. I made my way to the main academic building, following the signs to the first-year faculty office.

Inside, a harried-looking professor with spectacles perched precariously on her nose glanced up as I entered.

"Name?"

"Julian Uzziel."

Her fingers danced across a crystal panel, scrolling through what appeared to be an alphabetical list of students.

"Ah, yes. Special admission." Her tone shifted slightly, becoming more attentive.

"You've been assigned to Class 1-C, Room 304 in the Fides Block."

"Thank you," I said, studying the card.

Class 1-C. Middle tier. Neither the elite class where most of the main characters resided, nor the lowest class where the underdogs and comic relief characters typically found themselves.

"Ah, here it is."

Ding!

I stood in the doorway of Class 1-C for a moment, taking in the scene before me.

he classroom was spacious, with large windows that allowed the morning sunlight to flood the space.

About thirty students were already seated at their desks, chatting or reviewing textbooks before the professor arrived.

As I stepped inside, the conversations gradually died down, replaced by curious stares and hushed whispers. I couldn't blame them—a new student appearing on the second day was bound to raise questions.

I made my way to an empty seat near the back, trying to ignore the attention.

"Hey, who's that?"

"I've never seen him before."

"Did he transfer from another class?"

The whispers weren't exactly subtle.

But I settled into my seat, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible despite the curious glances being thrown my way.

The empty chair beside me was a small mercy—at least I wouldn't have to make awkward small talk with a seatmate right away.

So I put my head down onto the desk and waited until someone or the homeroom teacher walked into the room.

Then the classroom door slid open again, and the ambient chatter died instantly.

It was as if someone had cast a silencing spell over the entire room.

Curious, I lifted my head just a bit and nearly dropped it.

"Is that…"

"The saintess is in our homeroom?!"

"I'm going to faint!"

Elenore Blanchefleur stood in the doorway, her presence transforming the ordinary classroom into something almost sacred.

Her long brown hair cascaded down her back like silk, catching the morning light in a way that gave it an almost golden sheen.

But it was her eyes—a mesmerizing molten gold—that truly captured attention.

They seemed to radiate warmth and kindness, making it impossible to look away.

I knew who she was, of course. Everyone did.

The Princess of Blanchefleur Kingdom and the Saintess of our generation.

Her healing abilities were said to be unmatched, capable of mending wounds that even the most skilled healers couldn't touch.

But knowing of her and actually seeing her in person were two entirely different experiences.

She moved with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly, as if she were floating rather than walking. The academy uniform—which looked ordinary on everyone else—somehow appeared regal on her slender frame.

And she was heading directly toward me.

"Oh, fuck…"

"Yes, oh fuck indeed Julian!"

"This girl's energy feels familiar, but it's nothing bad of course!"

I froze in my seat as Elenore approached.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked, her voice melodious and gentle.

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak.

Then the scent of wildflowers and morning dew wafted around her as she settled into the chair.

"I'm Elenore," she said with a smile so radiant it seemed to brighten the entire room.

"I don't believe we've met before."

That smile. Gods above, that smile could disarm armies.

No wonder Marcel had become obsessed with her in the original story. I could feel the envious glares from every male student in the classroom boring into me like daggers.

"Julian," I managed to reply, keeping my voice deliberately neutral. "Julian Uzziel. I'm new."

"Oh! Are you the special admission student everyone's been talking about?" Her eyes widened with genuine interest, not a hint of judgment in them.

I winced internally. So much for flying under the radar.

"Word travels fast," I said with a slight shrug.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Julian. I hope we can be friends."

Friends?

The word echoed in my mind with warning bells attached.

Elenore Blanchefleur was the central figure of the first arc—the damsel who needed rescuing from Marcel's obsessive clutches.

Getting close to her meant inevitably being drawn into that conflict.

I needed to be careful here. Friendly enough not to seem suspicious or rude, but distant enough to avoid becoming entangled with her problems.

"Sure,"

"Though I should warn you, I'm not very interesting."

"I doubt that's true,"

"For a special admissions student, I'm sure you're far more interesting than you give yourself credit for.."

"Haha… that sounds really nice of you…"

"But it's true. My life's pretty dull. Mostly paperwork and the occasional… errand."

Elenore's smile didn't waver.

"Paperwork and errands can be interesting too. It all depends on how you look at it."

She's persistent and surprisingly… perceptive.

Whoosh…

The classroom doors opened with a decisive thud.

The chatter died instantly as a tall, broad-shouldered man strode in.

"Good morning, Class 1-C," he announced, his voice carrying to every corner without effort. "I am Professor Alaric Thornfield, your homeroom teacher for this academic year."

He set down a leather satchel on his desk.

"I do not tolerate tardiness, disrespect, or mediocrity," he continued, scanning the room. His gaze paused briefly on me, the unfamiliar face.

"I see we have our special admission student joining us today. Better late than never, I suppose."

A few nervous titters sounded around the room, quickly silenced by his arched eyebrow.

"Now, before we proceed, let me explain how your education at Aethel Academy will be structured."

Professor Thornfield began pacing methodically at the front of the classroom, his hands clasped behind his back.

"All compulsory subjects, including Mage Arts, Combat Arts, Historical Magic, and Magic Theory—will be conducted within your homeroom classes. This means you'll be seeing plenty of me and your classmates here."

He gestured to a crystal board behind him that illuminated with a complex schedule.

"Other specialized units you've selected will be conducted at different times, as shown on your timetables. You may find yourself studying alongside students from years above or below you, depending on your aptitude and choices."

I leaned forward slightly, intrigued despite myself. The academy's curriculum was famously flexible, allowing students to progress at their own pace in subjects where they excelled while receiving additional support in areas of weakness.

"Professor," a student near the front raised his hand.

"Does that mean we could potentially take advanced courses right away?"

"Indeed," Thornfield nodded approvingly. "Which brings me to my next point."

He tapped the crystal board, and it shifted to display a new diagram—a pyramid of sorts, with different class designations.

"Your current placement in Class 1-C is not permanent. If you're dissatisfied with your position, you can move up—or down—depending on how many points you earn this semester."

I glanced around, noting how everyone had straightened in their seats. The competitive atmosphere was almost palpable.

"At Aethel Academy, we operate on a merit system," Thornfield continued.

"Think of it as a practical demonstration of your growth and contribution to both the academy and the wider magical community."

The board shifted again, displaying a detailed breakdown of the point system.