Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

But the moment he appeared at the door, she knew she was in safe hands.

"It's better for you to control that bloodthirst. You're suffocating everyone here, not just those fools."

The fact that he was here meant things would be more stable from now on. After all, even Radgar or his group would not be able to do anything in his presence, and she hoped the same would hold true for the young man.

Since he was one of the people she liked and respected a lot.

"Greta, give me a beer."

Greta nodded as he made his request, the tension that had gripped her beginning to ease. She turned to fetch the beer for the old man, but as she reached for a mug, she suddenly remembered the meal she still needed to prepare for the newcomer.

'What do I do?'

Her hand hovered over the mug, torn between fulfilling the old man's request and attending to the young man who had so dramatically altered the course of the evening.

She glanced between the two men, her hesitation evident in her eyes. The old man, who had been a source of comfort and authority, and the young traveler, whose presence still lingered like a shadow over the room.

Greta's mind raced, trying to decide who to prioritize, not wanting to slight either of them.

The old man, being perceptive, noticed her dilemma immediately. He gave a soft chuckle and waved his hand dismissively, his fatherly smile returning.

"It's fine, Greta," he said gently. "Go on and get that young man his meal first. I can wait. I'll take my beer from Maren."

He nodded toward the other bartender, Maren, who was wiping down the counter nearby. Maren, a burly man with a gruff exterior but a kind heart, caught his gaze and gave a quick nod of understanding.

Relieved, Greta smiled gratefully at Harlan. "Thank you, Uncle Harlan. I'll be right back with your beer after I take care of this."

Harlan waved her off again, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "No rush, my dear. Take your time."

With that, Greta turned and quickly made her way to the kitchen, her steps lightened by the old man's understanding.

She busied herself with preparing the meal for the young traveler, her hands moving with practiced ease as she put together a hearty plate of roasted meat, fresh bread, and vegetables.

All the while, her mind lingered on the events of the evening, the contrast between the men who had shaped it so profoundly—one with calm wisdom, the other with a dangerous edge.

As she plated the meal and carried it back to the main room, Greta's thoughts drifted back to the young man. Who was he, really? And what had brought him to Rackenshore? She couldn't help but wonder if there was more to his story, something deeper that had yet to be revealed.

When she approached the young traveler's table, she placed the meal in front of him with a smile. "Here you go, sir," she said softly. "I hope it's to your liking."

The young man looked up at her, his expression softening for the first time that evening. "Thank you," he replied, his voice quiet but sincere. He glanced at the plate before him, then back at Greta. "I hope you are relieved now."

Greta blinked, taken aback by the young man's words. How could he know? This was something she had kept hidden, something that most outsiders wouldn't notice, especially not someone just passing through. Her surprise must have shown on her face because the young man's expression softened further, and a hint of regret flickered in his dark eyes.

"Relieved?" she repeated, her voice a little shaky as she tried to process what he had just said.

The young man nodded, his gaze steady and kind in a way that contrasted sharply with the fierce presence he had exuded earlier. "Yes. Those men. They've been giving you a hard time, haven't they?"

Greta's breath caught in her throat. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words seemed to stick, her mind racing to make sense of the situation. She had grown so accustomed to hiding her discomfort, to putting on a brave face for the sake of her family and the patrons, that hearing someone acknowledge her suffering so plainly was both shocking and oddly comforting.

"How did you know?" she finally managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt exposed as if he had seen right through her carefully constructed facade.

Greta's breath hitched as the young man's smirk widened, his dark eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. "I just guessed," he said, his tone light and teasing. "And you confirmed it."

Realization dawned on her, and she felt a rush of embarrassment mixed with irritation. He had played her, using her own emotions against her to draw out the truth. She had fallen for his bluff, and now he was clearly enjoying the moment. Greta's cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and humiliation as she stared at him, her earlier gratitude quickly turning into annoyance.

"So, this was all a game to you?" she snapped, her voice rising with frustration. "You were just playing around?"

The young man's smirk didn't fade. Instead, he raised his hand to his chin, tapping it thoughtfully as if considering her words. "A game…" he mused, his tone still light but with a hint of something deeper. "Isn't life just a game where the strong ones are the players?"

Greta's irritation faltered, her mind scrambling to find a response. The flippant way he spoke, as if the world and all its hardships could be reduced to something as simple as a game, left her momentarily speechless.

She opened her mouth to retort, but the words wouldn't come. The way he said it, so casually, so matter-of-factly, made her question the life she had lived.

And being just a countryside girl, she did not know many things as well.

"That….." So, she could not say anything at all.

The young man watched her, his expression still holding that playful edge, but now there was something else there, too—an underlying seriousness that belied his earlier teasing.

At least, that was for a split second before his smirk returned.

"Ah… I'm sorry if I've spoken a bit too deeply," he said, his tone lighter now as if brushing off the weight of his previous words. "It's been a while since I've had a conversation with someone."

Before Greta could respond, the cat perched on his shoulder suddenly snarled at him, its eyes narrowing in displeasure. With a quick, sharp swipe, it batted at the young man's head, its tiny claws making contact with his cheek. The sound was more of a warning than a serious attack, but it was clear that the cat was not pleased with him.

The young man didn't flinch, though. Instead, he chuckled softly, reaching up to gently scratch the cat behind the ears. "All right, all right, I get it," he said, still smiling. "I suppose I should have said I haven't talked with a human for a while?"

The cat's snarl faded into a soft purr as it leaned into his touch, clearly appeased by his attention. Greta watched the exchange with a mix of amusement and surprise. The young man's demeanor, which had been so intense just moments before, now seemed almost… normal. His interaction with the cat was tender, affectionate, and utterly at odds with the dangerous aura he had exuded earlier.

And at the same time, his words….They implied that he had been talking with someone other than a human.

"That… Is that a…" she stammered, her curiosity and disbelief getting the better of her.

The young man's smile widened as he met her gaze, clearly enjoying her reaction. "That's right. She's my contracted familiar," he confirmed, his tone matter-of-fact, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

'Wow… A contracted familiar!' Greta thought inwardly, her mind racing with the implications. Contracted familiars were rare, not just because they required a significant bond between the summoner and the creature but also because it was rare to find someone Awakened with the power to form such a bond in the first place.

But as she looked at the cat, who was now purring contentedly under the young man's touch, she couldn't help but feel a pang of confusion. 'A cat as a contracted familiar?' she mused, her thoughts reflecting the surprise she felt. From what little she knew, familiars were often depicted as more ferocious or mystical creatures—beasts of power that matched the strength of their masters.

She had heard stories of mighty wolves, fierce eagles, and even serpents with scales as hard as steel. But a cat? It was unexpected, to say the least.

The young man seemed to sense her thoughts, his grin turning slightly teasing as he continued to scratch the cat's ears. "Not what you expected, huh?" he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I suppose you were thinking of something more… intimidating?"

Greta nodded, unable to keep her thoughts from spilling out. "I've just never seen a contracted familiar like her before. The stories I've heard… they usually talk about fierce beasts, not… well, not cats."

The young man chuckled softly, clearly entertained by her reaction. "True, most people expect something more dramatic. But don't let her appearance fool you." He glanced at the cat, who had now settled comfortably on his shoulder, her eyes half-closed in contentment. "She's far more than meets the eye."

Greta tilted her head, intrigued by his words. "Really? What can she do?"

"You would not want to see."

"Ah…." She imagined this small cat storming through the battlefield with her tiny structure….And for some reason, she could not do so. "Pfff….."

She could only laugh slightly.

"You should keep doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Smile. You are beautiful when you smile."

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