I Was Transmigrated As An Extraordinary Extra Chapter 226

Two days later, Monfort

Deep in an empty cave they’d picked as a neutral spot for the et, Kairos sat back in a simple chair, nose buried in a book.

Footsteps echoed through the dim space, breaking the quiet.

Thorne erged from the shadows way in the back, but Kairos didn’t even glance up, too absorbed in his reading.

Thorne ca to a stop right in front of him. "Boss, Raphael Forbes is finally awake."

Kairos closed the book with a soft snap, setting it aside without a word.

"Are you really set on going through with this boss?" Thorne asked, his tone cautious.

Kairos t his gaze, steady and unblinking, then gave a firm nod.

"But just the three of us? Wait, make that four—Remillia insisted on handling the kill herself," Thorne pointed out.

Kairos had only looped in a handful of Nightjars about Remillia’s request. Win or lose, the details stayed between him, Thorne, and a couple of trusted hands—no leaks.

"It’ll be enough," Kairos said simply.

Thorne rubbed his chin, thinking it over. "Hmm... yeah, I get it. It’s the smartest play for pulling Remillia in tight."

Taking on her request like this? It’d earn the Nightjars her gratitude—and a debt she couldn’t easily shake. Even Thorne felt the pull of that. He knew better than most: Remillia had the raw talent to climb into the ranks of the world’s top Heroes soday.

"But aren’t we risking too much here? We don’t even know why she wants Raphael Forbes dead, and worse—we’d be making an enemy out of that old bastard," Thorne pressed, his voice laced with doubt.

"No," Kairos said flatly, shaking his head.

He’d already dug into Raphael’s condition the very day Remillia had made her request.

The kid’s core was shattered—gone. Jozel Forbes wasn’t the type to waste pity on a Hero without one, not even his own flesh and blood. That was just how the man was wired: cold, calculating, and ruthless.

"He might even thank us for it," Kairos added through gritted teeth, a flicker of rare anger crossing his face. "It’d give him the perfect sob story to milk sympathy from the world—all for the price of his own grandson’s life."

He had history with Jozel, tangled and bitter. But he’d severed ties after the Nightjars’ forr boss bit the dust—no looking back.

Thorne shrugged, not entirely convinced. "Can’t argue that. But Boss, no matter how I turn it over in my head, Remillia just doesn’t add up. There’s sothing... off with her."

He waved a hand, and a chair materialized from swirling mana, solidifying just enough for him to drop into it.

"Explain," Kairos prompted, his tone sharp.

"Gold Fever turned us down flat—even when we upped the offer to another 5 billion Glacium," Thorne said.

"Gold Fever... you an Matthew Owen?" Kairos replied, piecing it together.

"Yep," Thorne confird.

Matthew Owen, better known as Gold Fever, was a notorious playboy who burned through cash like it was kindling—gambling dens in Monfort, Zypheria, Velvet Grotto, you na it. But beneath the excess, he was Aeonia’s top informant, the guy who could unearth anyone’s skeletons for the right price.

"It’s weird as hell," Thorne went on. "The man’s dug into the dirt on everyone—family heirs, Heroes, doesn’t matter. He never blinks. So why draw the line at Remillia?"

Thorne had started with a 500 million Glacium bid just to peek into her past, then kept sweetening the pot, climbing all the way to 5 billion. Matthew hadn’t budged an inch.

"ans he’s already got the dirt on her," Kairos said, his eyes narrowing.

"And?" Thorne pressed, leaning in a bit.

Kairos’s expression stayed cool, unreadable. "He’s clamming up because he thinks it’ll get him killed if he opens his mouth. Her past has to be sothing explosive—worth more than just dirt."

"So, we keep poking him?" Thorne asked.

"...No. Look for another guilds," Kairos said, his voice leaving no room for debate.

Thorne couldn’t help but smirk at that. Gold Fever had just torpedoed a fat contract—Boss was the grudge-holding type, and word would spread.

"Info guilds these days are mostly hacks with zero scruples," Thorne said, "but I’ve been keeping tabs on a few that seem legit."

"Which ones?" Kairos asked.

Thorne fished out his phone and activated the hologram projector, casting a sharp image into the dim cave air.

Emberfla Guild

"First up: Emberfla Guild. They’re fresh—only been around half a year—but the feedback’s glowing, and their hit rate’s no joke," Thorne said.

"Mmm," Kairos humd, nodding once in approval. "The other?"

Thorne swiped, pulling up the next profile.

Nocturna Agency

This ti, Kairos’s brows drew together, a faint crease forming.

"I know, the na sounds like a bad noir flick," Thorne admitted, "but it’s got top-tier reviews. Hands down the best for hunting down missing persons or whatever."

"Emberfla it is," Kairos decided.

"You got it. I’ll send the request now," Thorne said, already tapping at his screen.

"And after that?" Kairos prompted.

"Raphael Forbes is locked in—the plan’s solid. Just ping Remillia for her window. I’m betting the kid needs a minute to psych herself up for her—" Thorne broke off mid-sentence as fresh footsteps echoed through the cave, steady and approaching.

He snapped to attention, all five senses dialing up to eleven, body coiling like a spring. "...Who’s coming?"

"I already called her," Kairos replied evenly, not batting an eye.

"Called who? ...Remillia? Already?" Thorne blurted, caught off guard.

"Yes. So play nice," Kairos said.

Thorne just gaped ahead, his face frozen in stunned disbelief.

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

Once I stepped through that dim cave-like pathway, I spotted them—two guys lounging in chairs like they owned the place.

Kairos and Thorne.

I took a deep breath to steady my nerves and walked right up to them.

"You’re here," Kairos said, his voice even, like he expected nothing less.

"Yes..." I dipped into a quick bow, but he just watched , those eyes of his pushing for more. "Boss."

"...Mmm." He let out this low, satisfied hum, and suddenly black magic swirled out from him, shaping into a solid chair right there.

"Thanks," I mumbled, sinking into it. My gaze flicked to Thorne—he was eyeing up and down like I was so puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

"You’ve probably crossed paths with him before, but let reintroduce: this is Thorne," Kairos said.

"Hi," I shot back, keeping it short before turning my attention straight to Kairos.

Thorne’s mouth quirked into a smirk. "Got a question for you."

"What?" I asked, bracing myself. Figured it had to be about Raphael.

"You moonlighting as a model or sothing?" he said, totally out of left field.

I just blinked at him, totally thrown. What the hell was he on about?

"Um... no?" I said, blinking.

He leaned back, still grinning. "Co on—your walk, that whole vibe, it’s like you’re strutting a runway. And those clothes? All high-end brands. You sure you’re not hiding a side gig?"

I glanced down at myself: fitted black turtleneck hugging my fra, high-waisted tailored trousers, a long black coat draped over it all, and sleek ankle boots. All in black, yeah, but I furrowed my brows and shot Kairos a look, basically begging for backup. Even he was just sitting there, waiting for to spill. What is up with them?

"No, I’m really not. These are given by Steph—er, my manager," I explained. Stephen had picked them out for once as a thank-you gift after I helped him out, and I’d said no at first, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Now he sends stuff every month—branded pieces that actually matched my style, mostly. Except the lingerie; that I handled on my own.

Kairos tilted his head. "Are you running low on cash? I can spot you so if you need it for clothes."

"What? No—I— Why are you even curious if I’m a model?" I was loaded, but explaining that felt pointless. "Can we just cut to the chase already?"

"I want to know why you want Raphael Forbes dead," Kairos said, his eyes locking onto mine.

I paused for a second, mulling it over. Last night, I’d stayed up wrestling with it all, turning every angle in my head until it clicked—I’d figured out what I had to do.

"I won’t kill him," I said firmly. No way was I dancing to the author’s palm. I’d do everything I could to save Raphael instead.

They both went still, like I’d just dropped a bomb.

Thorne let out this awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hey, if you don’t wanna spill the reason, that’s cool—no pressure to back out or anything."

"No, that’s not—" I started, trying to get the words out right.

"What?" Kairos cut in, his eyes narrowing.

"This is exactly why I ca here," I explained. "To tell you that."

"Thorne, give us a minute alone?" Kairos said, his tone leaving no room for debate.

"But—" Thorne started, clearly itching to stick around, but he knew better. When Kairos phrased it like that, it wasn’t a request—it was an order. "Yes, boss."

Once he was gone and the cave felt a little less crowded, Kairos turned his full attention back to . "Why won’t you kill him?"

How was I supposed to explain this without sounding insane? That Raphael had the Rakshesha’s mark and that I wasn’t about to follow the stupid plot the author laid out, and yeah, I was switching gears to save him instead?

"It’s not that I don’t want to kill him—" I began, fumbling for the right words.

"Then why did you want to in the first place?" he interrupted, leaning in. "What changed your mind?"

"There’s a reason I targeted him at first, but... I can’t get into why," I said, eting his gaze as steadily as I could.

He just stared at , unblinking, that intense silence stretching out like he was waiting for to crack.

I let out a sigh, pushing up from the chair. "Thanks anyway, but I don’t need your help with that anymore." I paused at the edge of the pathway, flashing him a smile to soften the blow. "Don’t worry, though—I’m still on the team, boss." I gave a quick wave and headed out, leaving it at that.

anwhile, the second Thorne sensed Remillia’s aura fading away, he hustled back to Kairos’s side, curiosity burning in his eyes.

"So, what went down, Boss? Did you get her to sign the contract?" he asked, leaning in expectantly.

But Kairos didn’t even glance his way, lost in his own thoughts. ’What are you planning now, Remillia Lockhart?’