Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

"I've heard the Duke's daughter hasn't been well."

The bartender's smirk faltered slightly, his gaze narrowing. "Now that," he said carefully, "is sensitive information. I'd tread lightly if I were you."

Lucavion didn't respond immediately. Instead, he reached into his coat and produced a small pouch, placing it deliberately on the counter. The faint clink of coins inside was unmistakable.

The bartender's eyes flicked to the pouch, his expression unreadable. After a moment's hesitation, he took it and slipped it into his apron with a nod. Leaning in slightly, his voice dropped to a lower register.

"All right, since you're paying…" He glanced around briefly to ensure no one was listening too closely. "Lady Aelianna, the Duke's daughter, has been ill for some time. Rumors say it's not just any sickness, either. It's something… strange. No one's been able to cure her, not even the best healers in the region."

Lucavion raised an eyebrow, his posture remaining relaxed as he listened.

"Some say it's a curse," the bartender continued. "Others think it's an ancient ailment—something tied to the lost ruins the Duke's expedition is targeting. Whatever it is, it's got the Duke desperate enough to risk everything on this venture. They say he's looking for something out there—a cure, a relic, who knows? Something that can save his daughter."

Lucavion's eyes softened slightly, his eyes gleaming with something more contemplative. "And Lady Aelianna? How is she now?"

The bartender shook his head. "Don't know. She's been kept out of sight for months. Some think she's too weak to leave her chambers. Others say she's somewhere far from the Duke's estate, hidden away for her safety."

Lucavion nodded slowly, his thoughts turning inward.

The bartender straightened, his tone returning to its usual casual demeanor. "That's all I've got. Anything else will cost extra."

Lucavion chuckled, finishing the last of his seabass. "No, that's plenty for now. You've been more than helpful."

The bartender smirked, stepping back to tend to another patron. Lucavion, meanwhile, leaned back in his seat, his dark eyes distant as he pieced together the web of information.

His smirk returned, faint and sharp as ever.

Well, then. Let's see what the next move brings.

*******

The dark room was alive with the muted crash of waves, the ocean's symphony echoing through the open window. A lone figure stood by its edge, her slender form shrouded in a heavy robe. The veil covering her face swayed gently in the breeze, an ethereal dance that matched the rhythm of her quiet, labored breaths.

The figure stretched a hand toward the horizon as if she could grasp the distant sea with her fingers. Her chest rose and fell with a sleeting, uneven rhythm, each breath a testament to her struggle. Yet, despite the isolation of her room and the layers that concealed her, there was a defiant dignity in her posture—a silent refusal to succumb to the illness that gripped her.

A knock at the door shattered the delicate peace.

"Young Lady," a voice called softly from the other side. "The Duke is here to see you."

Her fingers twitched at the windowsill, gripping the edge as though steadying herself against the intrusion.

"I stated that I do not wish to be disturbed," she replied, her tone cold yet fraying at the edges. Aeliana's voice, though quiet, carried the weight of exhaustion wrapped in unyielding resolve.

"My apologies, Young Lady," the voice continued, hesitant but insistent. "The Duke insists. He says it's urgent."

She turned her head slightly, her veil catching a sliver of moonlight. The Duke. Her father. The man who saw her as both his pride and his burden. Aeliana's lips pressed into a thin line beneath the fabric.

"Enter," she said finally, her voice clipped and weary.

The door creaked open, and the Duke stepped inside. His presence filled the room, a towering figure clad in dark, military finery adorned with the sigil of his house—a ship riding turbulent waves. His eyes, sharp and calculating, softened as they landed on his daughter. For a moment, the hardened exterior of Duke Thaddeus seemed to falter.

"Aeliana," he began, his voice deep yet careful, as if navigating fragile ground.

The air in the room grew heavier, the muted crash of waves beyond the window seeming to still as Aeliana heard her father call her name. His tone was different—not the commanding presence of a Duke, but something softer, more uncertain. For a moment, she faltered, her hand slipping from the windowsill.

Her heart tightened, weighed down by a cascade of emotions she couldn't fully untangle. Anger. Resentment. Sadness. And somewhere beneath it all, the faintest flicker of longing—for understanding, for freedom, for something she couldn't even name.

"How do you feel?" the Duke asked, his voice cautious, as though stepping into a battlefield he wasn't fully prepared for.

Aeliana's lips pressed into a thin line beneath her veil, her jaw tightening. Her father never asked that question without a purpose. It wasn't concern; it was prelude. A prologue to another duty, another demand, another reminder that her life was no longer her own.

'Here comes the talk about marriage,' she thought bitterly, her chest tightening further.

It was always the same. Her worth as the Duke's daughter had been reduced to a single purpose: securing alliances, bolstering her family's power. She was no longer Aeliana, the girl who once ran barefoot through the gardens. She was a pawn—a fragile piece on her father's grand chessboard.

"I'm fine," she lied, her voice steady but hollow.

Her father's gaze lingered on her for a moment, as though trying to see past the veil and the words.

"You don't sound fine," he said at last.

Aeliana turned her head away, back toward the open window. The cool breeze grazed her cheek, offering a fleeting reprieve from the heat that always seemed to simmer beneath her skin.

'I don't sound fine because I'm not fine. But what would you care about that, Father? You only ask because you need something from me. You always need something from me.'

The memory of her sixteenth birthday flickered in her mind, unbidden and cruel. That was the day it all changed—the day the first signs of her illness began to show. At first, she had tried to hide it, tried to pretend everything was normal. But soon the discoloration, the strange marks on her skin, became impossible to ignore.

It wasn't her father who had locked her away in this room.

It was this illness.

Her father's voice broke through her thoughts, bringing her back to the present.

"Aeliana," he said again, and this time there was something sharper in his tone.

The Duke's sharp tone cut through the fragile quiet of the room, drawing Aeliana's attention away from the horizon. His eyes, cold and calculating once more, bore into her with an intensity she could almost feel.

"I hear you didn't attend the meeting with Count Allistor," he said, his voice measured but carrying a weight that made her stomach twist.

Aeliana stiffened, her fingers curling into the windowsill. Of course, it was about the Count. It always came back to that wretched arrangement.

"I didn't feel well," she said flatly, her gaze fixed on the distant waves. "And I didn't see the point."

The Duke's jaw tightened, his posture rigid. "You didn't see the point? Aeliana, you've already agreed to this match. Do you realize how much effort has gone into securing this engagement? How precarious our position was to even negotiate it in the first place?"

'Yes, Father,' she thought bitterly. 'I understand perfectly. That's why I'm being sold off to a man beneath our station—a man with a reputation so unsavory even the servants whisper about him. Because I'm not worth the risk to anyone better.'

Aloud, she said, "I never agreed to this match. You did."Nôv(el)B\\jnn

"You knew what was at stake," the Duke replied sharply. "Do you think I wanted this? Do you think it pleases me to see my daughter married to a man of lesser standing? To hear the whispers and feel the stares of those who think the House of Thaddeus has fallen so low?"

Aeliana finally turned to face him, her veil catching the light as it shifted. "Then don't marry me off at all. If my presence is such a burden, let me stay in this room and rot quietly."

Her words hung in the air, sharp and venomous. For a moment, the Duke said nothing, his expression unreadable.

"This isn't about you," he said at last, his tone quieter but no less firm. "This is about the family. About securing a future for our house. You are a Thaddeus, Aeliana. That name means something."

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "What does it mean for me, Father? That I'm a pawn? A tool to be traded off to some lecherous count because I can't fulfill my duty properly? Don't pretend this is for my benefit."

The Duke's eyes narrowed, and for the first time, his voice lost its restraint. "Enough. You think you're the only one suffering? You think this illness affects no one but you? I've spent years trying to protect you, to shield you from the worst of it, while you wallow in this room and refuse to face reality."

SMASH!

To respond to those words, something flew right into Duke's face.