The window behind the gym had a dull, musky tint, years of grime and dust thick across its pane. The glass, more shadow than transparent, let in nothing but a dim haze of light. Tucked behind rows of half-collapsed bleachers and forgotten mats, the window had no purpose. No one spared it a glance. It was a part of the school like a rusted nail on a boarded-up door. Silent. Unseen.
But today, it framed a quiet tug-of-war unfolding in the hidden corner behind the gym. The light that filtered through the dusty glass cast a blurred shadow of two figures struggling over something small and inconsequential to anyone else.
"Hey! I told you I was fine! It's just a scratch! Give me back my hand!"
Arzen jerked his arm, trying to yank it away, but the hand that gripped it didn't budge. Raizel stood perfectly still, the only movement coming from his eyes, locked firmly on Arzen's hand as if the skin were some ancient text only he could decipher.
Arzen's other arm dangled at his side, tense fingers curled loosely, like they were debating whether to throw something or not. The sleeves of the uniform stuck to his forearms in awkward creases, sweat still clinging to the skin after the long day of painting. His chest rose with each breath, rough and uneven, like he hadn't fully caught it since storming out of the classroom.
The air back there was stiff with the smell of rusted metal, old wood, and dried sweat. Gym ropes coiled in the corners.
The memory of the classroom had barely cooled. The way everyone turned, the accusation, the endless, mind-numbing denial from Dante, and the final smugness draining from his face when the truth stuck to his back like a curse. As soon as Bonie stammered his last excuse and the class fell into that awkward silence, Arzen didn't wait.
No one apologized. Not really. A few classmates mumbled something half-hearted as they turned their attention to Dante and Bonie, now the class-assigned cleanup crew. One girl tried to offer him a wet tissue, like that would wipe away the stupidity of the whole scene.
Arzen didn't want any of it.
So he walked out.
He stormed off, made his way here, back to this little pocket of nowhere behind the gym. The moment his back hit the seat of one of the old broken chairs, he exhaled. The tension dropped from his shoulders in one long sigh. The wind buzzed faintly in the trees, carrying only the sounds of rustling branches and a faint hum of distant footsteps.
Then, the light shifted.
At first, it was subtle. A slight dip in warmth, like a cloud passing in front of the sun. Arzen kept his eyes shut, savoring the calm.
But then came the weight. The kind of shadow that wasn't from clouds or wind. It had a presence.
Arzen's eyes opened sharply.
Raizel was standing right in front of him.
The startled jolt rocked through Arzen's spine, kicking his foot against the frame of the chair. The back leg slipped off its rusted hinge with a dry creak. His balance shattered in an instant. The world tilted and dumped him sideways onto the cracked pavement.
The sharp scrape tore across his palm before he could catch himself. Skin peeled, and a sharp sting raced up his arm. Arzen hissed through gritted teeth, flipping onto his back as the broken chair clattered beside him.
Raizel said nothing.
Just crouched down and picked up Arzen's injured hand.
That was when Arzen snapped back to the present.
YOU ARE READING
Transmigrated into the Extra Chapter as an Extra
FantasyArzen gets transmigrated into the novel "I Become a Business Tycoon After I Regress," arriving after the main storyline has ended. He ends up as an extra in an extra chapter focused on the adopted child of the protagonist couple. Without any knowled...
