Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

The dim glow of the lantern flickered softly, casting shifting shadows against the polished walls of the Duke’s private chambers. The night was silent, save for the distant crash of waves against the fleet’s hull. The rhythmic sound should have been grounding—familiar—but tonight, it did little to settle his thoughts.

Thaddeus sat at his desk, fingers steepled, golden eyes focused on nothing in particular. His mind, however, was far from still.

Everything felt strange. Unfamiliar, despite the fact that the situation should have been a relief.

His daughter, Aeliana, was here.

Alive.

Safe.

But that was not what unsettled him.

It was the way she had returned.

Stronger than ever.

The physicians had confirmed it—her body was no longer frail. The sickness that had plagued her since childhood, the very thing that had dictated the course of her life, was gone.

And not only gone—it had been replaced with something greater.

Aeliana was standing taller, her presence sharper, her movements unburdened by the fragility that once held her down.

It was unnatural.

Not impossible.

But unnatural.

His fingers tapped lightly against the wooden desk, a slow, thoughtful rhythm.

And then there was that boy.

Luca.

No. That was not his real name.

Whoever he was, whatever his true identity, Thaddeus did not trust him.

When he had first met him, there had been no certainty—no confirmation that he was truly the one who had saved Aeliana. The only proof had been Aeliana’s own words.

That should have been enough.

But still, something in Thaddeus had refused to accept it entirely.

It had been suspicion at first. Doubt. A simple, cautious instinct honed over years of war and deception.

But then he learned about Aeliana’s cure.

And suddenly, it was not just caution anymore.

It was urgency.

He needed to know more.

The Eternal Skyroot Herb. The change in her mana core. The impossible way her body had not just survived the process but thrived in it.

And somehow, Lucavion was at the center of it all.

His golden eyes narrowed.

This young man was reckless. Insolent. Unpredictable. A charlatan with the mouth of a rogue and the presence of a survivor.

Yet, despite his personality, despite his audacity, he was strong.

Too strong.

A five-star cultivator at his age was already exceptional. But Lucavion’s energy was off. It carried something beneath the surface, something unsettlingly familiar.

Something that reminded Thaddeus of a past he had long left behind.

His jaw tightened slightly.

And yet, even with everything he had seen—everything he had sensed—Lucavion was not what troubled him most.

It was Aeliana.

His daughter had changed.

Not just physically. Not just in strength.

In spirit.

She did not look at him the same way anymore.

There had always been defiance in her, always a quiet fire beneath her carefully measured words. Even in her illness, she had held on.

But now, that fire was something different.

It was no longer just resistance.

It was independence.

She no longer sought his approval. No longer looked to him as the immovable force that dictated her life.

And that—

That was the part he did not know how to deal with.

His fingers curled slightly against the desk, his thoughts circling back to the moment he had examined her mana core.

It had been unmistakable.

She had followed his technique.

And she had mastered it.

The impossible strength of her mana reserves, the seamless flow of energy within her—it all pointed to something far beyond natural progression.

And yet, he had felt it the moment he stepped into the abyss.

That pulse. That connection.

He had thought it was instinct. The desperation of a father searching for his daughter.

But it had not been.

It had been real.

Aeliana was the one he had sensed.

And now, sitting alone in his chambers, facing nothing but the quiet hum of the sea outside, he could no longer ignore the question pressing against the back of his mind.

What exactly had she become?

That was why he needed to know everything.

There were too many unanswered questions, too many strange occurrences that could not be brushed aside. Thaddeus had spent his entire life cutting through uncertainty, never allowing the unknown to dictate his decisions. And now, more than ever, he needed clarity.

He exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting toward the side of the room.

There, hanging on the wall in the soft lantern light, was a portrait.

A woman.

Young. Beautiful. Her features delicate yet striking, her presence immortalized in oil and canvas.

Her hair, pitch black, cascaded down her shoulders like flowing silk, the deep hues of midnight captured with near-perfect realism. Her eyes, a shade of amber so similar to Aeliana’s, held a quiet warmth within them, though they carried an undeniable sharpness—a fire that had never faded, not even in the years they spent together.

Rianna Ravensdale.

Aeliana’s mother.

Thaddeus’ breath was slow, steady, yet something inside him tightened.

It had been nearly ten years since she left this world.

A decade.

And yet, looking at her now, frozen in time, it didn’t feel so distant.

She had been a woman of unwavering strength, both in spirit and in will. The kind of person who never let fate dictate her choices, who refused to bow to the expectations placed upon her.

She had loved fiercely.

Lived freely.

And just like their daughter, she had always met him head-on.

His fingers brushed against the edge of his desk, his thoughts pulling him backward—to years that felt like a lifetime ago, to memories that still lingered despite how much time had passed.

He could still hear her voice sometimes. Could still remember the way she would challenge him, never backing down, never bending under the weight of his presence.

“You don’t always have to be so rigid, Anthony.”

She had told him that once. More than once.

He had never quite learned how to listen.

A knock at the door.

“Enter.”

The door creaked open, the soft flicker of lantern light stretching across the floor as a figure stepped inside.

She moved with slow, deliberate grace—neither rushed nor hesitant. The weight of her presence filled the chamber before she had even spoken.

And when Thaddeus lifted his gaze—

His breath caught.

For a moment, just a moment, he saw her.

The dress was simple, yet elegant. Flowing midnight silk, embroidered subtly at the edges with golden thread. It draped effortlessly over her frame, accentuating a figure that had once been frail, once been too delicate to bear such formality. Now, she stood tall, unburdened, the soft candlelight casting shadows along the curve of her cheekbones, the sharp edge of her jawline. Your next journey awaits at My Virtual Library Empire

Her hair, dark as ink, cascaded down her back in silken waves, untamed yet regal.

And then, there were her eyes.

Amber. Deep. Alive.

Aeliana had always resembled her mother. Even as a child, before the sickness had stolen her vitality, before the years of weakness had dulled the fire in her gaze—she had been a reflection of Rianna.

And now—

Now, she looked exactly as she had back then.

A living, breathing echo of the woman he had lost.

His fingers tightened against the desk.

This is not the time for sentiment.

Aeliana’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile—the expression too sharp, too edged to be anything but deliberate.

“Father,” she greeted at last, voice cool, clipped.

The silence between them thickened.

Thaddeus exhaled slowly, straightening in his chair, pushing the past aside in favor of the present. His golden gaze swept over her, assessing—not just her appearance, but her stance, the sharpness in her posture, the way her chin tilted ever so slightly upward.

Defiance.

Independence.

She no longer carried the weariness of someone burdened by her own body. She no longer looked like someone who had spent years trapped in a gilded cage.

She had changed.

And she wanted him to see it.

“You called me.”

She really looked like her mother.