I Was Transmigrated As An Extraordinary Extra-Chapter 137

This is what happened on the live stream when Remillia was still in the shower:

As Remillia enjoyed her shower, completely unaware of the chaos unfolding in the chat, Ezekiel gamed on, his focus split between the screen and the barrage of comments flashing by. The chat spammed Ezekiel asking him to kick Remillia out from his stream.

"Kick her out! She’s ruining everything! Spoiler!" echoed through the comments.

Ezekiel just chuckled. "Guys, be kind to her. She’s a special friend of mine." His words sent a ripple through the viewers, sending the comment section silent for just a heartbeat.

Then, like a dormant volcano awakening, the comments exploded:

-What do you mean ’she?’-

-Noo!-

-Can you introduce her to us?-

-By ’special’ What kind of special friend is she? *wink wink*-

-KelZie I thought you were single!?-

-Introduce her-

-Hey @LiaMeri, who are you?-

-@LiaMeri @KielZie we demand an explanation!-

Ezekiel’s face turned a shade darker as the playful teasing spiraled out of control. He tried to maintain his composure, but the onslaught of questions and demands left him flustered. The comments, now a chaotic torrent, made it impossible to keep up.

"Okay, okay, guys, chill! I’m just gaming here!" he said, laughing nervously, but his words barely cut through the frenzy. As the chat steadily demanded more information about Remillia, he knew he had to put a stop to it before it spiraled even further.

With a resigned sigh, he readied to end the stream. "I will continue this stream next time so good night. Don’t forget to like, share, and subscribe to this page. Bye!" he announced before he ended the stream.

Little did he know, the thrill of the chat and the intrigued whispers about Remillia were already spreading through Ezekiel’s community like wildfire.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Wednesday.

With just one more day before our presentation, I was in a full-blown crisis, staring at the limited and inadequate data I had, or rather, didn’t have.

————————————

Sender: Hannah

We’re sorry Remillia. This is the only data we gathered from the guilds in charge of it. It appears that they won’t release any more information about Cinderfrost Dungeon.

File 6857392540

File 4573497324

————————————

I opened the files and quickly scanned through, groaning inwardly as I realized it provided almost nothing useful for our presentation.

Another email blinked into view in my inbox, and I clicked on it with a sense of impending doom.

————————————

Sender: Joshua

Here. This is the only things we managed to get our hands on.

File 5378347098

————————————

With a groan, I closed the emails and rubbed my temples in frustration. These were not the tidbits of information I needed to make the presentation.

The last thing I wanted was to face that old man again, but there was little choice left.

I steeled myself and made my way to his office, trying to mask the anxiety bubbling beneath the surface. I burst through the door without knocking and found Professor Orion sitting behind his cluttered desk, calmly signing documents as if he had been expecting me all along.

"Why aren’t you yelling at me like usual?" I asked, plopping down into a chair across from him.

"Considering you’re the only one who barges in here—including my apprentice—I’m not surprised anymore," he replied, setting down his glasses to finally look at me.

"What do you need?" His voice reflected the familiar aggrieved tone he always used with me.

Something was off—he was usually more cheerful but he seemed gloomy today, like a child who just had their favorite toy taken away. "I need your help," I said, the words tumbling out despite my reluctance.

"Oh yeah, sure. You’re always like that. Always taking and never giving anything back." He crossed his arms, an exaggerated pout forming on his lips.

"Whatever I did to you, I’m sorry," I said, a slight edge of frustration creeping into my voice.

"Hmph!" He turned his head away, clearly still acting petulant.

This was ridiculous. "I’m sorry, Professor—"

He cut me off before I could finish. "Mentor. Call me mentor."

Sighing again, I relented. "Fine. I’m sorry, mentor, for not chatting with you and for ignoring the assignments you should have given me."

"I accept your apology." A sudden grin broke out on his face, shifting his mood to almost whimsical. "Now what do you want?"

"I need information about Cinderfrost Dungeon," I said, eager to cut to the chase.

"Oh, you’re having your dungeon presentation this Friday, right?" he asked with a hint of mischief in his voice.

I nodded. "Yes. So can I have the files?" feeling a flicker of hope at the thought of getting some much-needed help.

"Do you want me to cheer you on there?" His tone was overly enthusiastic, like of a proud parent.

"I’d rather not. It would look odd if you, a professor and owner of a big-time organization, were cheering for just one student," I argued, concern lingering on my mind. I was aware of how people would view it; they would think I was receiving special treatment.

"They would think of me as an amazing and thoughtful mentor!" he exclaimed, his voice rife with indignation.

I facepalmed, exasperated. "Stop thinking like that. It’s already illegal that you’re recruiting me as your apprentice, so let’s not add more fuel to the fire."

"Okay, but!" He dramatically broached his condition, an amused sparkle in his eye. "I’ll be there as a spectator."

Reluctantly, I agreed; I just wanted to finish gathering information. "Okay, fine. Can I have the files now?"

"Of course!" He grabbed his phone, dialing a contact with the zeal of a child making a birthday wish.

"Can you look at our files regarding Cinderfrost Dungeon and send them to—" he trailed off to ask for my email, and I quickly provided it.

"That’s all. Yes. What? When will I be back? Nope. I know you can handle it there. Bye!" He hung up, and I couldn’t help but shake my head at him. Despite being the head of the largest corporation, he acted as if he were just playing around in a park.

""Thank you for this, mentor. If you’ll excuse me, I need to finish our presentation." I said, bowing slightly before making my escape.

"Oh, Remillia!" he called out just as I reached for the door. I instantly felt a chill run down my spine. I dreaded what was coming next.

"You still haven’t forgotten that you need to follow my last order, right?" he added with a grin, fingers interlocked like an evil mastermind plotting.

This was the reason I don’t want to see him. I turned, forcing a bright smile, knowing I needed to play along. "What’s my last mission?"

"Have a date with my apprentice." His smile broadened.

"Your apprentice... Gusion?" I blurted, bewildered. Why on Earth would he set me up with Gusion of all people?

"Yup! So wait for my call. I’ll take charge of the date and venue. Now go finish your presentation. I’ll be expecting your output this Friday," he chirped, the expression on his face a strange mix of pride and mischief.

I left his office with mixed feelings, trying to keep up the facade of a smile. As soon as I was outside, my grin faltered. ’That cunning fox! I knew he was up to something!’

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Thursday.

I found myself holed up in our usual hangout spot, room 201, surrounded by the chaotic energy of my friends, struggling to focus on the presentation I was doing. The atmosphere was supposed to be studious, but with Christian and Rex in the room, it was anything but—loud commentary and bursts of laughter filled the air.

I was frantically typing on my laptop when Whitney approached me, an anxious look on her face. I paused, sensing she was about to say something important, but instead, she just stood there. Unable to bear the silence, I decided to prod. "What?"

"...You see, my team got the Netherhold Dungeon," Whitney blurted out, biting her lip.

Oof. That was perhaps the most challenging dungeon she could have chosen. I felt a pang of sympathy for her.

"C-can you give me a l-little information about it?" Whitney stuttered.

"As the leader of the squad, why did you pick the hardest one?" I put the question to her, half-joking but mostly serious.

"I know right? But that Gildark kept pushing me to choose it!" She sighed dramatically.

My suspicions about who was behind that choice were confirmed—Gildark Rushe, the mage in her team, was notoriously arrogant, likely hoping to impress everyone by tackling a daunting challenge entirely on his own. "He probably thought he could earn bonus points with a difficult assignment. But good luck—he’s probably going to mess up, and you’ll find yourself facepalming throughout the presentation."

"I know and he insisted on doing the presentation by himself," Whitney lamented. "Can you help me, please?"

I shook my head, feeling torn. "No can do. I’m also swamped with my own presentation. But here’s a piece of advice: don’t let Gildark present or he’ll just mess it up."

"I’ll try," Whitney nodded, looking a bit relieved by my suggestion. She returned to her seat, and I turned back to my laptop, trying to refocus.