An Unordinary Extra

'Did his eyes change slightly?' The thought crossed my mind as I almost tilted my head in confusion. Something about the Archduke's gaze, the way he looked at me, seemed to shift—like a shadow passing over the surface of water. It was subtle, so faint that I wasn't sure if it was real or a trick of the light.

'I must be imagining things,' I decided, dismissing the unsettling feeling gnawing at the edge of my thoughts. With a final polite bow, the Archduke turned away to greet others, leaving me no choice but to let it go. For now.

The three of us—Rachel, Seraphina, and I—bowed once more before moving on to enjoy the rest of the victory banquet. Or at least attempt to.

Rachel, for reasons unknown to me, was practically glowing. Her smile was brighter than I'd seen it in weeks, and she clung to my arm with a fervor that bordered on the comical. Her unusual cheerfulness drew puzzled glances from Seraphina, whose furrowed brows betrayed her confusion.

"What's gotten into you?" Seraphina finally asked, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Rachel.

"Because I'm so close to my Arthur," Rachel replied, her tone so matter-of-fact and her words so unabashedly genuine that my cheeks turned red on instinct. I wasn't the only one taken aback; even Seraphina blinked, momentarily at a loss for words.

Rachel, however, seemed entirely unbothered, looking pleased as a cat curled up in a sunbeam.

"I'm happy too…" Seraphina muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, but her flushed cheeks betrayed her embarrassment.

"Unlike you, I didn't have any physical contact with my Arthur for over a month," Rachel declared with a dramatic pout, emphasizing every word as if she were delivering a heartfelt monologue.

Seraphina's eyes widened in disbelief before narrowing into a pointed glare. "Maybe you need to be less… horny," she shot back, her tone dry as a desert.

Rachel gasped as though Seraphina had just suggested she give up breathing. "How dare you!" she exclaimed, clutching her chest in offense.

And just like that, the two of them began to bicker, their words growing increasingly absurd, all while refusing to let go of my arms. Their animated exchange was so far removed from the formalities of the banquet that I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing outright.

Somewhere in the midst of their playful sparring, I realized something. These moments—the ridiculous, lighthearted ones—were what I truly cherished. No amount of grandeur or victory could compare to this simple, chaotic happiness.

"So, Arthur," Rachel said, wagging her finger at me with a teasing glint in her sapphire eyes, "when are you going to put a ring on this finger?"

I nearly choked on my drink. "Did you switch bodies with Cecilia or something?" I asked, coughing as I struggled to process her sudden boldness.

Her eyes narrowed, her mock indignation perfectly executed. "What, you don't want to put a ring on my finger?"

"No, wait, that's not what I meant!" I protested, raising my hands as if surrendering could save me from her sharp gaze.

"Well, you'll get your ring after mine," Seraphina chimed in smoothly, tugging at my arm with a playful smile. Rachel's glare snapped to her instantly, but only for a moment before turning back to me with renewed focus.

Leaning in closer, Rachel whispered conspiratorially in my ear, her voice low and honeyed. "You know, if you were to give me a ring on my birthday…" Her lips curled into a devilish grin. "I might just celebrate with you in private afterward."

For a moment, I was convinced that body-swapping magic wasn't just a myth. My thoughts were interrupted by Seraphina's sharp scowl. "Keep it in your pants, Saintess," she muttered, crossing her arms with a pointed look at Rachel.

"Oh, please," Rachel scoffed, tossing her golden hair over her shoulder. "Like you're some innocent flower who doesn't want the same thing."

Seraphina's cheeks flushed as she struggled for a comeback, but her silence only encouraged Rachel's triumphant smirk. Meanwhile, I quietly prayed for divine intervention—or at least a distraction that didn't involve more fiery glares or whispered innuendos.

"You both need to relax," I said, trying to inject a note of calm into their escalating expectations.

"Well, you've been keeping us waiting, so it's entirely your fault," Rachel countered, her sharp sapphire eyes locking onto mine with the weight of undeniable conviction.

"I've been keeping you waiting?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You did take over a year and a half to officially ask us out on a proper date," Seraphina chimed in, nodding in solidarity with Rachel.

"And you were the one who suggested we wait before taking that step," Rachel added, her tone pointed.

"And you haven't even put a ring on our fingers yet," Seraphina followed up, crossing her arms as if presenting an airtight case.

"Hold on," I said, throwing up my hands in mock surrender. "What kind of times are we living in where we need to get married at twenty?"

For the average person, marriage came later. The typical age hovered around twenty-five, with engagements happening around twenty-three. My argument seemed solid—until Rachel tightened her grip on my arm, narrowing her eyes.

"What, you want me to date you for five years before I get a ring?" she asked, her voice laced with incredulity.

When she put it that way, I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. The statistics didn't exactly align with our reality. Most people who waited that long had only just started dating, while couples who were already serious usually married within two years.

"Besides, we're princesses," Seraphina interjected with a regal tilt of her head. "For us, marrying before twenty-five is entirely normal."

"Then why hasn't your sister gotten married yet?" I asked Rachel, hoping for a reprieve.

"Well, that's her problem, not mine," Rachel shot back without missing a beat, her tone unapologetic.

I exhaled, realizing there was no winning this conversation—not when it came to these two. The weight of royal expectations was clearly not something I could dodge, but at least they weren't letting me face it alone.

"Also, I love you enough that I can't imagine living without you. Isn't that enough?" Rachel's voice softened, her expression turning genuine as a warm smile lit up her face.

Seraphina nodded in quiet agreement, her fingers intertwining with mine, her touch steady and reassuring.

"Twenty-one," I finally said, the words feeling weightier than I expected. "After we graduate from Mythos Academy."

"You're truly the man for me, Nightingale," Rachel whispered in my ear, her breath sending a shiver down my spine. 

"You two are such drama queens," I said with a shake of my head, though the warmth in my tone betrayed my attempt at nonchalance.

"This isn't drama, Arthur," Rachel replied, her voice taking on a more serious tone. Her sapphire eyes pierced mine, holding a weight that demanded acknowledgment. "You'd better tie the knot if you want me. And don't think for a moment that Cecilia or Seraphina feel differently. We waited for you because of how much we love you, but don't mistake patience for endless endurance. Did you ever consider how we felt when you went into isolation training? How we worried that you might not return or wondered if you were okay? The emptiness we carried while you were gone, unsure if you'd come back to us?"

Her words landed like arrows, sharp and precise, each one stripping away the shields I didn't even realize I'd put up.

"And yet," Rachel continued, her voice softening but her resolve unyielding, "we never moved on. We held onto the love we have for you, enough to be yours together, despite the uncertainty. So, understand this, Arthur—you are a very lucky man to have us, and we won't wait forever without certainty."

For a moment, the weight of her words hung between us, the gravity of their sincerity undeniable. I exhaled slowly, the warmth of their trust in me grounding and humbling in equal measure.

"I apologize, my Saintess," I said softly, lifting Rachel's hand to my lips and placing a gentle kiss on it. I turned to Seraphina, repeating the gesture with equal reverence. "I promise, I'll never keep you waiting like that again."

Rachel's lips curved into a satisfied smile. "Good," she declared, her tone bright. "Now, dance with us, you idiot. And I go first since Seraphina got an entire month with you that I didn't."

Seraphina, to my surprise, didn't argue. Instead, she watched with a small smile as I knelt before Rachel, taking her hand once more.

"May I have the honor of this dance, Your Highness?" I asked, my voice formal but with a hint of playfulness.

"You may," Rachel replied, her smile softening into something warmer as she placed her hand in mine, her sapphire eyes shimmering with delight.

With that, I rose, leading her to the dance floor. The music swelled around us, but for a moment, it felt as though the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of us.