The scent of roasted meats, fresh bread, and spiced vegetables filled the grand Dining Hall of the Mana Bureau Academy. High-arched windows let in the morning light, illuminating rows of long wooden tables that stretched beneath banners of the six elemental affinities.
Already, a subtle pattern had formed—nobles clustered together, their crests displayed proudly on embroidered tunics; commoners sat apart, keeping their voices low; and at the center, a gilded table shimmered faintly with wards where the Crown Prince and a handful of royals dined, surrounded by their retinue.
Alex, Kael, and Riven stepped into the hall together, trays in hand. A hush followed them, not out of disrespect, but out of curiosity—three figures of unmistakable presence walking as though they belonged side by side.
"Looks like we've stumbled into politics with cutlery," Kael muttered, eyeing the clear divisions.
"Relax," Riven said lightly. "We're here to eat, not negotiate treaties." He balanced his tray with one hand, scanning the room with a mischievous gleam.
Alex's gaze drifted to a corner where two commoners sat alone. One fiddled nervously with his bread, avoiding eye contact with anyone who passed, while the other leaned back with a kind of guarded indifference. Vacant chairs surrounded them like a silent barrier no one dared cross.
Alex nodded toward them. "What about there?"
Kael blinked. "With the commoners? People might—"
"Exactly," Riven cut in with a grin. "Perfect spot."
Without hesitation, he led the way, Alex following with quiet resolve, and Kael trailing with a resigned sigh.
As they approached, the shy commoner looked up, startled. The other raised a brow.
"Mind if we sit here?" Alex asked, voice polite but steady.
The shy one stammered, "Y-you… want to sit here?"
The other shrugged. "Nobody's stopping you. Sit if you like."
"Much obliged," Riven said smoothly, sliding into a chair before either could change their minds. Alex settled across from him, and Kael dropped into the seat with an easy shrug.
For a moment, silence stretched—then Riven leaned back, flashing a wicked grin. "Don't mind Alex—he's dreadful at being fun, but he makes an excellent Cupcake."
The nickname rang across the hall. Forks stilled. Heads turned. At the nobles' tables, whispers darted like sparks. Some students stared in disbelief, others smothered laughter.
Alex rolled his eyes, but a smile betrayed him. "If I'm the Cupcake, then you're the jester who won't stop juggling."
Kael nearly spat out his drink, choking on laughter. The bolder of the two commoners snorted, while the shy one blinked, still trying to process that nobles—high-ranking ones at that—were teasing each other so openly in the middle of the Dining Hall.
Riven elbowed Alex, eyes dancing. "See? He loves it."
The murmurs softened into chuckles and grins. What began as shock shifted into something lighter. A few nobles shook their heads, amused, while commoners traded astonished glances. Instead of scandal, the scene felt strangely refreshing—proof that the rigid walls between rank and bloodline weren't unbreakable.
Kael leaned toward the two commoners. "Guess you're stuck with us now."
The shy one ducked his head, but the other commoner smirked faintly. "Could be worse company."
For the first time since the Academy gates, the Dining Hall's divisions seemed just a little less sharp.