On the ground floor, inside the bustling cafeteria, many Espers and Guides sat around long square tables, chatting and eating, while others stood in two lines at the counter to get their food. The air was filled with the aroma of freshly cooked meals and the soft echo of footsteps.
Amidst the crowd, Zephyr stumbled as someone abruptly bumped into his body.
The half-filled plate of food he had just received after displaying his gold-bronze badge—proof of his official affiliation with the Association—nearly slipped from his hands, but he managed to catch it in time.
His brows furrowed slightly as he tried to understand who would bump into him so carelessly, despite clearly seeing that he was using a cane to find his way, only to hear a familiar, cold, mocking snicker.
It was Eleven—the same man who had barge into his room last night uninvited.
Zephyr pursed his lips, annoyed, but he stayed quiet and restrained his irritation.
