I'm an Extra, so What?-Chapter 66: Being Healed by the Saintess

Luka's hands clutched at his bleeding side, though the pain was far less than what he let on.

The moment was a stark contrast to the brash, confident man he'd been moments before.

His eyes flicked from knight to knight, ensuring each of them were looking, ensuring they saw his "suffering."

'Look at me, you armored idiots! Look at what you've done!'

Luka was confident this would work.

After all, manipulating the Church?

Child's play.

Why?

Because in this game, the Church was actually good!

Not like in all those other novels and games where they were corrupt villains in disguise.

Sure, there were a few bad apples—every group had them—but overall?

Most of them were good!

Every knight in the room turned to look, confusion, uncertainty, and even guilt flashing across their faces.

What had been a confrontation now felt like a scene from a tragic play.

Luka was no longer the defiant rebel.

Now, he was the injured, wronged man who needed saving.

His breath hitched dramatically, just loud enough for all of them to hear, his hands trembling as though holding on to his last bit of strength.

His chest heaved in exaggerated breaths, ready to collapse.

Serene—completely unaware that he was faking his distress—was instantly overwhelmed with worry.

Her heart raced in fear as she leapt out of her chair, her eyes wide with panic.

"Are you okay, Young Master?" she cried out, her voice trembling with concern.

"Don't die! You can't die!"

Serene rushed to his side, her hands shaking as she pressed them against his wounds, desperately trying to stop the bleeding.

Her tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over as she frantically worked to save him.

Before a single tear could fall, the sound of soft footsteps approached.

Elysia appeared at their side, her expression filled with genuine worry.

She bent down.

"Oh my, you look terribly hurt," Elysia said, her voice filled sympathy.

"Please, let me heal you."

Luka, still feigning weakness.

"Thank you… Saintess… I don't know what I would've done without you…"

"Shush, don't speak. Keep your strength." Elysia moved to place her hand gently on his forehead.

[Lesser Touch of Grace]

In that very moment, Luka's body was flooded with a soothing warmth, as if all the pain and exhaustion were being whisked away in an instant.

His wounds began to close, the bleeding slowly coming to a halt, and he could hear the familiar voice of the System resound in his mind:

[Healing in Progress...]

[HP +500]

"Can you please explain to me what's going on?" Elysia glanced over her shoulder.

The slightly older knight stood at attention in a flash, slamming his hand against his chest in salute.

"Saintess, we were simply preparing the tavern for your scheduled meeting with the Second Princess. We asked him multiple times to vacate the premises, yet he stubbornly refused to comply."

Before Elysia could even open her mouth to respond—

Luka interrupted, his voice laced with righteous indignation. He knew this was the perfect moment to twist the narrative in his favor.

"Why would I allow such injustice to occur!? To be thrown out—like a stray animal—just because someone of 'higher authority' deems this place theirs for the evening!? Do our rights as humans mean nothing?"

"You insolent—!" the slightly older knight snarled, his temper flaring as he took a step forward.

But before he could say another word—

Elysia calmly lifted her hand.

Her mere gesture silenced the room like a divine command, her presence alone enough to soothe tempers and halt the conflict.

"I understand," she said softly, her eyes full of genuine regret.

Without hesitation, Elysia gave a deep, respectful bow of her head. "I offer my sincere apologies—?"

"Luka," he responded quickly, stepping forward just slightly.

"Luka Rein Junker."

Elysia looked up at him.

"Then allow me to say this clearly… I apologize, Luka. It was a mistake to hold such an important meeting in a place meant to serve the people. Especially during peak hours."

From where he still sat on the floor, Caelum—who had been rendered speechless in awe the entire time—blinked himself out of his daze.

The moment his eyes landed on the Saintess, they lit up like twin stars.

He scrambled to his feet, his voice filled with reverence.

"Saintess! You've finally arrived!"

Elysia gave him a brief, weary glance, then sighed and turned away.

She began walking toward the exit.

"Find a new location. Somewhere private. Away from the eyes and ears of the public."

Elysia paused at the doorway, turning her head just slightly.

"And… please ensure everyone here receives a formal apology on behalf of the Church. This scene never should've happened."

Just as Elysia was about to take her leave, the tavern door suddenly swung open with a gentle chime.

"I decided to arrive a little earlier. I hope you don't mind—?"

All eyes turned toward the entrance.

Standing in the doorway was none other than Charlotte.

Flanked by her personal maids.

"Your Highness," Elysia said with surprise, stepping back and offering a graceful bow.

"I apologize for the state of this location. We were just about to move elsewhere—"

Charlotte didn't even glance her way.

Her attention was solely on Luka as she walked toward him and then came to a stop.

Her brow furrowed ever so slightly.

"What are you doing here?" Charlotte asked plainly.

"And why do you look so beat up?"

Luka scratched the back of his cheek.

"Well… you know me. I was just fighting for justice."

He forced a smile, as if trying to downplay the whole ordeal.

Charlotte narrowed her eyes slightly.

'Bullshit,' she thought, reading him like an open book.

But she didn't call him out.

Instead, she offered him a knowing smile.

Charlotte leaned in ever so slightly, placing a soft hand on his shoulder.

"You've done well," she whispered, her voice low and quiet enough that only he could hear it.

'Luka must've been trying to recruit the Saintess for my faction! To think he had the same idea…'

Charlotte's smile widened.

'From now on, I must keep him informed. Someone like him. He shouldn't be left in the shadows. He should be working beside me!'