The Extra's Rise-Chapter 206: Northern Sea Ice Palace (7)

Two ragged breaths echoed in the darkness.

The only light in the room flickered weakly from a screen, casting jagged blue lines across the cracked floor.

Aside from the uneven breaths, the only sound was the rapid staccato of typing, the frantic rhythm of desperation hammering against a keyboard.

The boy’s chest tightened as his fingers flew over the keys, his mind racing ahead, calculating exit routes, contingency plans, probability shifts—but none of it mattered if the footsteps kept getting closer.

"A-" the girl beside him started, her voice barely above a whisper—

He slapped a hand over her mouth.

"Wait."

His fingers moved one last time.

A command executed.

Somewhere, something exploded.

The footsteps stopped.

A voice cursed, followed by the sound of hurried retreating steps—a small victory, but a temporary one.

The boy exhaled sharply, scanning the data on his screen.

"Finally, an opening." His shoulders slumped in relief as he snapped the laptop shut and picked it up by the handle on the briefcase.

"Come on!" he said, grabbing it and turning to the girl at his side.

She didn’t move.

"I’m at my limit," Emma rasped, her voice thin and strained. Her disheveled hair clung to her sweat-slicked forehead, her skin pale from blood loss.

The boy’s jaw clenched.

A bullet wound in the leg.

She had been pushing through the pain for hours, but now—now, her body was giving out.

"You can’t be," he muttered, kneeling beside her, urgency creeping into his voice. "We’ll survive together."

Emma gave him a tired smile, but it was tinged with something heavy, something that made his gut twist.

"We won’t," she said quietly. "You’re brilliant, but even you can’t make the impossible happen."

He gritted his teeth.

"That’s wrong." His hands curled into fists. "I calculated everything. My commands, my predictions—they were perfect." His breath hitched. "If… if only I were older. Stronger. If I had just a little more time."

Emma’s fingers twitched.

She reached out, brushing her fingertips against his clenched fist, her touch light, fragile.

"You’re too smart for your own good," she whispered. "Even the gods above would be envious of your talent."

He let out a sharp, bitter scoff.

"A talent that makes gods weep in envy?" His voice wavered, raw with frustration. "What’s the point of talent if I can’t protect you?"

Emma’s expression faltered—just for a second.

"Power," he whispered, his voice trembling. "If I just had power… I would have—" His breath hitched, his mind racing through all the paths, the strategies, the alternate possibilities—

But none of them mattered.

Because in every calculation, Emma didn’t make it out.

Emma squeezed his hand.

"Don’t do this," she said. "It’s not your fault."

The boy shook his head.

"It is," he said, his voice thick with anger—not at her. Not at the world. At himself.

"I should be better. I need to make better plans. Smarter strategies. No matter how impossible—" His breath was ragged. "I am better."

Emma looked at him, her heart aching at the sight.

But she couldn’t let him throw his life away for her.

He was too young.

She was young too, but she had already drowned in too much darkness.

"Please," she whispered. "Save yourself."

He froze.

Her voice wavered, but she forced the words out.

"Don’t try to save me," Emma pleaded. "I told you before… I used you. You don’t get it, do you?" Her voice cracked. "When I saved you from those bullies—I was just doing my job."

His eyes darkened, but he didn’t speak.

"I was a spy," Emma said, forcing a laugh that sounded too hollow to be real. "I’m the reason they’re after you. The reason a fourteen-year-old genius is on the run."

She clenched her jaw, her body trembling.

"Stop caring about me. Just—just go. Live your fucking life."

The boy sat in silence.

Then, after a moment—

He smiled.

Not a sad smile.

Not a bitter smile.

Just a knowing one.

"You think I didn’t know?" he said softly.

Emma’s breath caught.

"I knew," he said, shaking his head. "From the moment you saved me—I knew you weren’t doing it out of goodwill."

Emma stared at him, her lips parting slightly, but no words came out.

"But it didn’t matter," the boy continued. His smile didn’t fade. "Because that was the first time I ever understood kindness."

Emma’s heart twisted.

"The time we spent together," the boy said, his voice quiet but steady. "Tell me, Emma." His eyes locked onto hers, sharp and unwavering.

"Was it just me? Was it all for nothing?"

Emma couldn’t breathe.

Because she remembered.

Their days.

Two outcasts—one a spy, used and discarded by the world’s most powerful agencies, the other a genius whose very existence invited hatred and envy.

Their time together.

Their laughter.

Their stolen moments of peace.

Could she really say it was nothing?

Emma’s throat tightened.

"Yes," she forced out. "I don’t care about any of it. I was just—doing my mission."

She clenched her fists.

"Even now—I’m just doing my duty." She let out a hollow, shaking laugh. "Look at me—I slowed you down, right?"

She gritted her teeth. "I did my job. I did my job."

The boy didn’t flinch.

He just kept smiling.

"You’re lying."

Emma froze.

The boy’s voice was gentle. Certain. Unshaken.

"Those days… they meant everything to you too."

His fingers curled around hers, firm, steady.

"So we’ll live."

"Together."

"Don’t lie to me now," Emma whispered. Her voice was hoarse, her breath shallow, but her gaze burned with a finality that made Arthur’s stomach twist. "You know it won’t happen."

Arthur didn’t respond.

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Because he knew.

She had always been able to read him, to see past his walls, his calculations, his endless plans. And now, in this moment, she saw everything.

"I can’t give you up, Emma," he said, his voice cracking. "Giving you up… is like giving up myself. I—I just can’t."

Emma grabbed his collar, yanking him forward, forcing him to look at her.

"You must."

Her hands trembled against his shirt, but her grip was ironclad.

"Even if you somehow pull off a miracle, even if your genius mind outplays every agent on this goddamn planet—" Her breath hitched. "I’ll die anyway, Arthur."

The words punched through him like a bullet.

"I need treatment now, and you can’t get us both out in time. So, finally—finally—please. Please, please leave me. Live."

Arthur’s entire world cracked at the edges.

His throat burned. His chest felt tight, like something was caving in.

Emma was crying.

She never cried.

"Don’t waste more time," she sobbed, gripping his shirt as if trying to anchor herself. "Don’t—don’t die for me. You can’t. I won’t allow it."

Arthur opened his mouth—he had to say something, had to stop this, had to—

Emma kissed him.

For just a second, time froze.

Her lips were cold, but her touch was desperate, like she was burning the moment into him, carving it into his memory.

Then, she pulled away.

"This is goodbye," she whispered.

And before he could even react, she shoved him backward.

Arthur stumbled, his heart slamming against his ribs, panic ripping through him as Emma turned—

—and ran.

"Emma!"

Arthur chased her, his mind working at lightspeed, his eyes scanning every possible escape, every last-second solution—but the distraction he had created earlier had scattered the agents, moved them out of the way.

The two of them burst onto the rooftop.

And suddenly—there was nowhere left to run.

Emma skidded to a stop at the edge of the building, her hair whipping in the wind.

Arthur stopped a few feet away.

His chest heaved.

"Emma," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

She turned to look at him.

And she smiled.

"Live for us, Arthur," she said. Her voice was soft, but it carried through the wind like an unbreakable command.

His breath caught.

"You must live for us. Forget about revenge. Just live."

She took a small step backward.

"That’s revenge enough," she continued, "against a world that wants to use you."

Arthur moved—but too late.

"And please…" she whispered.

She let go.

"Be happy."

She fell.

Arthur lunged to the edge, his fingers grasping at nothing, his breath caught in his throat as Emma plummeted—

Her figure growing smaller against the sea of lights below.

He couldn’t breathe.

His vision blurred.

And for the first time in his life, Arthur’s calculations failed him. Discover hidden content at novelbuddy

That was the day Arthur lost Emma.

Because he was too weak to save her.