I Transmigrated as an Extra in a Trashy Dark Romance Game - Chapter 69

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※ This work contains depictions of coercive relationships, explicit language, and other graphic content. Reader discretion is advised.

“With no nobility, the culture is very different too. As you know, Edie, when you come of age, you usually make your social debut?”

“Yes. We consider 18 the age of majority and have our coming-out ceremonies then.”

But she and Serenity, the Saintess, had never had proper coming-of-age ceremonies due to their fated circumstances. And on the day she turned twenty, at the banquet…

She shook her head, trying to shake off the sudden thoughts of Serenity and the endless chain that followed.

“Our kingdom is a bit different. We’re originally nomadic people, so that tradition continues. When men approach their coming-of-age birthday, they undergo a special rite of passage.”

“A special rite of passage?”

“Commoners must leave the prosperous kingdom and, alone, experience the desert on their birthday. Only then are they recognized as adults.”

“Ah, then Mr. Kazan and Mr. Perry must have gone through it too.”

Kazan looked somewhat mature, but Perry seemed much younger than herself, at twenty.

“Ah! I did it long ago. I’m thirty now. Kazan… is at the age where he must complete his rite of passage within this year.”

“Huh?”

For a moment she thought she’d misheard, but chewing over his words confirmed it: the far more boyish-looking Perry was thirty, while Kazan, with that face, was apparently barely of age.

Edith’s gaze alternated between the two walking side by side. Then she met Kazan’s eyes as he turned his head. Something mischievous sparked within her, and a grin crept onto her face.

“So… you were a minor until just recently, then? Mr. Kazan…?”

He was younger than her, yet he’d been ignoring people like that all along. To Edith, with her lingering Confucian sensibilities, teasing him about his attitude was irresistible. But then her thoughts drifted to that night, and her smile abruptly faltered.

‘He’s only just come of age… and yet that night was quite…’

The blush-inducing imagery ransacking her mind made her foot sink deeper into the sand. She nearly fell.

As she struggled to pull her foot free, it sank further, soon burying her up to the calf. Her leg wouldn’t budge. She called out to the two men, who were walking ahead, oblivious that she’d gotten stuck.

“Help me, please!”

Hearing her voice, Perry turned and, upon witnessing this absurd sight, tried to rescue her. But Kazan was faster. He swiftly approached and placed both hands on her waist.

“Wah!”

Lifted by her waist, Edith was instantly pulled free from the sand trap.

“Thank you, Mr. Kazan. You can put me down now…?”

Kazan stared intently at Edith’s face as she thanked him, saying nothing. Then, still holding her, he pulled her into his arms.

One arm supported her bottom, that hand securing her legs. His other hand wrapped around her back.

“You seem to require more care than a child younger than yourself…”

Kazan’s natural counter to her earlier teasing about his age made Edith’s face flush with embarrassment.

Perry, watching the scene with fascination, burst out laughing at Kazan’s teasing remark.

* * *

No matter how much she pleaded to be put down, Kazan wouldn’t budge. The next day, and the day after that, he’d scoop Edith up before departure without fail. Resigned, she had no choice but to cross the desert cradled in his arms like a child.

Being held in the arms of a man over 190 centimeters tall was actually quite stable and spared her legs any pain. Still, she felt a twinge of unease, as if she were using him as mere transportation.

“Finally, that’s the desert kingdom…!”

In the distance, rising from the heart of the desert like a fortress, stood gleaming white walls. At the entrance, merchants passed through, and kingdom guards were checking them.

Their skin was deep bronze. They wore turbans and tunics reminiscent of traditional Indian attire, paired with long, loose trousers. Fabric draped diagonally across their bodies, secured by belts. Spears in hand, they stood watch.

They eyed Edith’s approaching party with suspicion, crossing their spears to block the way.

Their robes were worn from desert winds, and they carried little luggage. If they didn’t look like merchants, at least they hopefully didn’t resemble a band of thieves.

Kazan, still holding Edith with one arm, looked at the blocked path. With his free hand, he pushed back the hood pulled low over his face. The sunlight caught his silver hair, dazzling against the desert.

“That appearance…! You’ve returned safely, Prince Kazaniel!”

‘Kazaniel… huh, Prince?!’

Edith stared at the face of the man holding her, stunned. Perry, who had walked ahead past Kazan, also pushed back his hood. From within, he produced the valuable-looking document he had shown at the checkpoint when leaving the Empire. His tone shifted, formal and commanding.

“Prince Kazaniel Nefertarios has completed his coming-of-age rite and returned. Clear the path to the Silverwind Royal Palace.”

At the news that Prince Kazaniel had returned after completing his rite of passage, the kingdom of Silverwind quickly became swept up in a festive atmosphere. It was proof enough of the trust and favor he held among his people.

To properly assume the role of successor, completing the coming-of-age rite was essential. But for royalty, the ritual differed from that of commoners.

Accompanied by a single guardian, they crossed the desert to fulfill diplomatic duties as envoys to the Empire.

Originally, the custom was simply to visit a neighboring country. But since the kingdom had recently become a tributary state of the Empire, the tradition had shifted. Now, the heirs were required to present themselves to the Emperor, combining the rite with an envoy mission.

And so, after two months, Kazaniel—now a rightful adult—had returned, and they were celebrating.

But amidst the jubilant atmosphere, a peculiar rumor began to spread quietly. He had returned with a mysterious woman in his arms—her skin gleaming whiter than the fine desert sand, her hair holding the bluish hue of the night sky.