After Alyssara's dance—which frankly felt more like a high-level psychological attack than a performance—we were served dinner.
Five courses. Each ticulously crafted and presented with the kind of precision that made you wonder whether the chefs used nanobots or just very small knives. The food resembled Japanese cuisine from my old world: delicate, balanced, beautiful in the way that only things which took four hours to prepare and four seconds to eat could be.
It was delicious, no doubt about it. The kind of delicious that made your tongue briefly consider applying for citizenship. But I wasn't exactly in the mood to appreciate it.
I was thinking.
Dangerous, I know.
The vampires needed to be exposed. Not the cults, not the creepy robe-wearing doomsayers—no, the vampires. The Red Chalice cult was already known to the public, which was a deviation from the novel I'd read in my old life. But the real threat, the one slithering just out of sight, was still underground. Literally and taphorically.
The Vampire Monarch was supposed to recover slowly. Gradually. Give the heroes ti to level up, unlock legendary weapons, sort out their feelings, and maybe open a bakery if they felt like it.
But that tiline wasn't reliable anymore. Too many changes. Too many variables. If the Monarch woke up early, we'd be neck-deep in fangs and blood faster than anyone could say "classified threat level."
So maybe now was the right ti. I had the Martial King on my side, after all. That had to count for sothing. I couldn't afford to wait until I was stronger. That was the kind of logic that got protagonists killed just before the final boss fight.
And then, in the middle of my internal world-ending monologue—
"Open your mouth," ca a voice so sweet and gentle it could've put sugar out of business. I obeyed without thinking, too deep in vampire-planning mode to process anything.
Sothing warm and savory landed on my tongue. Sea lotus dumpling. It practically dissolved, releasing a flavor that could win peace treaties. My taste buds gave it a standing ovation. I blinked.
Rachel smiled beside . "Don't think so much," she said. "You should enjoy yourself. The food here's actually pretty good, you know."
"Sorry," I muttered, the way you do when you've just realized soone had to manually remind you to eat like a functioning organism.
"You're sitting awfully close, aren't you?" Cecilia's voice cut through the air like a well-aid dagger wrapped in velvet. Her crimson eyes narrowed into that look she got when she was just about to deploy sarcasm as a lethal weapon.
Only then did I realize where my left arm was. More specifically, what it was currently buried in. Rachel. Or to be precise, Rachel's side, which was pressing in just the right way to make my neurons short-circuit.
"I was feeding him," Rachel clarified, tone sweet with the kind of innocence that wasn't fooling anyone. "Since he clearly can't do it himself. Unlike a certain soone, I actually take care of him."
That did it.
Cecilia's brows dropped a few milliters, which in her case was roughly the emotional equivalent of launching a warship. Across the table, I saw Rose's eyes narrow and Seraphina's fingers twitch, the kind of twitch that ant soone was about to pretend everything was fine while silently declaring social war.
And then—
'Nothing like a good old catfight to snap you out of your brooding,' said Luna inside my head, unhelpful as always.
I chose, wisely, to ignore her.
"Arthur," ca Lucifer's voice, smooth and calm like a still lake under starlight. He stood beside , tall and perfectly composed, his uniform sharp, posture regal—the very image of a noble prince trained since birth to look like hope incarnate. The kind of man who stepped into a room and made people stand a little straighter without knowing why.
"There's been a lot between us left unsaid," he said, a soft smile playing on his lips. "You've been gone a long ti. Let's eat together—like old tis."
There was no edge in his voice, no smugness, no performance. Just sincerity wrapped in that ever-gentle tone of his, the kind that made people believe everything would be okay. Honestly, it was hard not to like Lucifer. He had that quiet hero quality—always polished, always humble, always sohow right.
He was also, regrettably, my only male friend in this entire nightmare of a social ecosystem.
I hadn't spent much ti with him after returning from the Well of Miasma. Not by choice—just… circumstance. My schedule had been hijacked by four very determined girls, each of whom had the patience of a missile. But now? Now felt like a good ti to change that.
"I'll catch up with you four later," I told the girls as I stood. They blinked at as if I'd just suggested removing oxygen from the room. But I didn't waver. It wasn't like I hadn't already spent hours with them, and I was going to dance with each of them during the banquet. One al wouldn't tip the balance of affection.
"To think Lucifer would—" Cecilia began, then stopped herself. "How can he even—"
I activated full ntal noise suppression. There were just so things you didn't need to hear if you wanted to keep your sanity intact.
Lucifer and I walked to the nearby table where Ren gave a nod—the kind that ant glad you're here, don't expect a hug. Ian, true to form, looked like he'd just seen dessert arrive early and waved over with bright enthusiasm.
Seol-ah and Ava were already seated, looking appropriately aloof, like queens of parallel dinsions.
"These two don't mingle much," Ren comnted as I sat.
"Not outcasts," Ava corrected sharply. "We're just not keen on forced pleasantries."
I understood. Students from the Eastern continent had to deal with hierarchy on hard mode. Sitting next to the daughters of the Five Great Families probably felt like eating dinner in a diplomatic minefield. Blink wrong and soone would misinterpret it as an insult to their grandmother.
"And Gu?" Ren asked, poking at the boundaries of Ava's patience.
"She's a different case," Ava replied, waving it off. Then her gaze sharpened like a blade. "Anyway, Ren, tell sothing. You seem to avoid girls like they've got a virus. Why's that?"
Ren narrowed his eyes. "What are you implying?"
Ava looked at Seol-ah, who gave the world's smallest shrug, then plowed forward. "Just that there's a rumor spreading. Apparently, the great Kagu heir prefers… a different type of partner."
Ian's soda shot out of his nose. Not mouth—nose. He doubled over coughing, and I was too busy holding in my own laughter to be much help. I managed a weak pat on his back.
Lucifer, the model of composure monts ago, hunched forward, hand over his mouth as his shoulders trembled with silent laughter. Even the hero prince wasn't immune to this level of chaos.
Ren?
He stared.
Frozen.
Eyes wide, jaw slack, blinking rapidly like his internal systems had just blue-screened.
"It's because Prince Ren refused to dance at every birthday banquet since turning sixteen," Seol-ah said, calm as ice. "And that's a tradition. A very public one."
"Which ans," Ava concluded, "people notice."
Ren opened his mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again.
"I don't like dancing," he said, finally, with the raw desperation of soone trying to shout over a hurricane.
"Sure," Ava said sweetly. "That's exactly what I'd say too."
And just like that, our table was ground zero for one of the academy's most explosive rumors yet. But at least I was finally having dinner with a friend.
A heroic one. Who was also now laughing so hard he nearly dropped his water glass.
Reviews
All reviews (0)