I'm an Extra, so What?

The grand ballroom of the Imperial Palace glowed under a sea of crystal chandeliers, each one catching the soft golden light and scattering it across polished marble like sun-kissed diamonds.

Musicians played from a raised platform near the far wall, filling the air with a flowing waltz.

The scent of wine, polished silver, and imported flowers hovered like perfume.

Luka stood near a massive arched window, a glass of something sparkling in his hand and Serene by his side.

She wore a midnight-blue gown that shimmered like starlight every time she moved, and more than a few nobles had taken notice.

Snow, the baby dragon, was mercifully absent tonight—Serene had bribed him with treats to nap in the garden.

"Do you even know half these people?" Serene murmured under her breath as she sipped from her flute.

"Not a single one," Luka replied, glancing over the crowd. "Too many titles, too many egos."

A noblewoman passed by and gave him an elegant nod. He returned it politely.

Serene leaned closer. "That's the Countess of Rivenshire's daughter. She's been staring at you for the past twenty minutes."

"She probably thinks I'm someone else."

"She just whispered to her friend, 'he's more handsome than the rumors said.'"

Luka raised an eyebrow. "Remind me to avoid her then."

Despite his attempts to blend into the fringes, the spotlight seemed magnetically drawn to him.

A few young nobles approached to congratulate him, others tried to make polite conversation.

Luka nodded, smiled, and kept the replies short.

Eventually, one particular nobleman stomped toward him with a flushed face and eyes like a boiling kettle.

He was slim, with ornate silver-and-gold trim on his high-collared suit. His sword belt jangled dramatically with every agitated step.

"You!" the noble snapped, pointing at Luka like he'd just been caught stealing a crown.

Luka blinked. "...Yes?"

"You dare seduce my fiancée?! In public? At my family's table?"

Serene slowly turned her head toward the noble, lips twitching. "He said her dress was nice."

"She said I had nice eyes," Luka added mildly, sipping his drink.

"You flirted with her!"

"I also said the wine was good. Should I apologize to the vineyard next?"

Gasps echoed nearby as people began circling in.

The noble's hand dropped to the hilt of his sword. "If you're a man, you'll answer for this insult. Duel me. Here. Now."

Luka sighed through his nose and gave Serene a side glance. "This is why I avoid parties."

The Emperor himself—Lord Eternity—stood not far from the commotion, having just stepped down from the raised dais to mingle.

He approached without urgency, hands clasped behind his back.

"Now, now," the Emperor said with a calm smile. "What seems to be the issue?"

The noble turned, bowing stiffly. "Your Majesty, this commoner insulted my family and dishonored my fiancée. I demand satisfaction."

Eternity turned his gaze to Luka. "Did you?"

"I told her I liked the color of her dress. She said she liked my eyes," Luka said flatly. "Apparently that's treason."

The Emperor paused, then chuckled. "Ah. Young pride. Still… if both parties agree, and this duel remains formal, I will allow it. Let it be a lesson either way."

He gestured to a steward, who quickly cleared space in the ballroom, the crowd stepping back in hushed excitement. D

uel challenges at noble balls were rare—scandalous, entertaining, and heavily gossiped about.

The noble unsheathed a rapier, flourishing it dramatically. "En garde, you arrogant peasant."

Luka set his drink down and pulled out a slim dagger, more utility than weapon. "This really what you want?"

"Scared?"

"No, just tired."

The duel began.

The noble charged, lunging with practiced precision.

A few ladies gasped, convinced Luka would be skewered.

But Luka sidestepped effortlessly, twisted his wrist, and parried the sword with the flat of his dagger in one motion.

Then, he stepped inside the noble's guard, tapped the hilt of the dagger against the man's temple, and swept his legs out from under him.

The noble hit the marble floor with a spectacular thud, his sword clattering away across the tiles.

The entire room froze.

Luka stepped back, dagger still in hand, then casually flipped it in his fingers and sheathed it. "I believe that concludes your lesson."

The Emperor clapped once, slowly. "Elegant. Efficient. And merciful. Just as expected from the hero of the final match."

Whispers raced through the crowd. A few nearby nobles applauded. The noble on the floor groaned, humiliated but unharmed.

"I trust there will be no more confusion about compliments and dress colors," the Emperor said wryly.

"None at all, Your Majesty," Luka said, brushing off his sleeves.

Serene stepped up beside him again, perfectly composed. "I liked your eyes too, for the record."

"Traitor," Luka muttered, and they both smirked.

The music resumed.

The crowd began to buzz again with new energy—this would be talked about for weeks.

Luka retrieved his abandoned drink, sighed, and looked at Serene.

"Let's find a corner where no one wants to stab me," he said.

"You're asking for the impossible."

"I know."

Luka had just begun to enjoy the faintest peace, tucked into the far end of the ballroom with Serene beside him and no duel-crazed nobles in sight.

The wine had mellowed on his tongue, and for once, the music wasn't grating. He leaned back slightly against one of the marble columns, letting his eyes close for half a second.

"Luka!"

The voice hit like a spell—urgent, high-pitched, and familiar.

Luka blinked, straightened up, and turned just in time to see their group's healer weaving through the crowd, flustered and red-faced.

Her gown, a soft silver that matched her eyes, was partially wrinkled from having clearly shoved through more than one persistent nobleman.

"Please," she said breathlessly, arriving at Luka's side. "I—I need your help."

Luka frowned. "What happened?"

She glanced behind her, nervously scanning the crowd. "They won't stop. These noblemen—dozens of them—asking me to marry them or worse. Some won't even take no for an answer. One asked me what price I'd take to 'warm his bed.' Another tried to corner me in the garden!"

Serene stiffened beside Luka. "That's disgusting."

Luka's jaw clenched slightly, but his tone remained cool. "Names."

"I—I didn't get all of them," the healer said, voice shaking. "But they just keep circling. One of them even told me that if I keep refusing everyone, the nobles might decide for me."

Luka's eyes darkened. The party lights glittered off the dagger still strapped at his belt.

Serene spoke first, voice cold. "Then it's time they learned they can't 'decide' anything."

"Where are they now?" Luka asked, eyes scanning the floor.

"Scattered. Some are by the fountain. Others… probably drinking and waiting for me to leave the room again."

Luka gave a slow, thoughtful nod.

"Alright. Serene, stay with her. I'll handle it."

The healer blinked. "Wait, what are you going to—"

But Luka was already walking, steps slow and deliberate.

He found the first cluster by the tall fountain near the rear of the ballroom.

They were laughing, one of them mimicking a woman's voice in high-pitched mockery.

The moment Luka approached, their laughter died.

One of them, a lordling draped in too many rings and not enough sense, raised a brow. "You again. What, come to duel us all too? You've had your entertainment for the evening, haven't you?"

"I hear you've been harassing my teammate," Luka said flatly, stopping before them.

The men exchanged amused glances. Another, broader noble with a jagged scar down his cheek, smirked. "You mean the little healer? She's quite a looker. What, you her protector now?"

"Something like that."

"She's a beauty with no title," the scarred man said, shrugging. "It's only natural someone claims her. She should be grateful anyone—"

Luka stepped in. Not fast. Not loud. Just close.

And with the heel of his palm, he drove it up under the noble's chin in one smooth strike.

The man stumbled back with a choked grunt, crashing into the edge of the fountain. Water sloshed as he scrambled to catch himself.

Gasps and shouts rang out.

Luka turned his gaze on the others, eyes cold, voice calm.

"She is a national hero. A healer who saved your sons and brothers during the games. You call her 'little' like that means she owes you something?"

"Y-You dare strike me at a noble ball—" the downed noble wheezed.

"I dare," Luka interrupted, "because you just threatened her."

Another of the group raised his hands quickly. "It—it was just talk, nothing serious—"

"She came to me in fear. That's serious. And if I hear even one more whisper about forcing her into anything…" He let the words hang in the air, taut as a bowstring.

Behind him, a murmur swept the room. Nobles were watching again.

Luka didn't care.

The Emperor, still standing near the dais, looked on with interest but made no move to intervene. He sipped from his goblet, face unreadable.

Luka turned on his heel and walked away without waiting for a response.