The clubroom was quiet today.
Not a tense kind of quiet, a kind that made you hold your breath, but a softer kind: no footsteps pacing the hallway outside, no neighbouring clubs slamming doors and shouting about practice schedules, just the steady hum of the academy's mana lights and the faint, clean smell of old wood that had been wiped down recently.
Someone had been cleaning.
Soren didn't even need to guess who, a certain pink-haired woman came to mind immediately.
The table had been cleared properly, the chairs pushed in rather than left crooked, and the linen cloth that lived in the cupboard had been shaken out and laid flat, no crumbs, no stains, no proof that half of them treated this room like a crash site between classes.
He stood at the head of the dining table and clapped his hands together once, a clean, sharp sound that cut through the last bits of conversation.
Chairs creaked.
Bodies shifted.
Attention turned.
The whole group was here, which was a minor miracle on its own, and it made his chest loosen in a way he didn't want to admit.
People were showing up again.
People were sitting down at the same table again.
It mattered, even if he didn't say it out loud.
Felix lounged with the kind of lazy confidence that suggested he was daring the chair to collapse beneath him just so he could complain about it afterwards.
Lev sat with a thick stack of forms beside his elbow, already half-organised in neat piles, and he wore the expression of a man being marched toward his own execution with paperwork in hand.
Esper leaned back with her arms folded behind her head, posture loose and casual.
Olivia sat beside her with careful posture and both hands around her cup, eyes curved, and a small smile sitting on her face.
Louise looked bright and eager in the way only Louise could, her attention already fixed on Soren with an almost childlike anticipation, as if today was a birthday rather than a club meeting.
Lilliana's gaze was calm, ears relaxed, expression composed, though Soren caught the smallest flick of her eyes toward the tidy tablecloth, toward the cups placed evenly, toward the room being… normal.
Alex sat as if he had been invited to a meeting with a teacher he desperately wanted to impress, posture straight, hands folded, face carefully neutral.
If someone had told Soren that Alex practiced sitting like that in a mirror, he would've believed it.
And Amelia…
Amelia had, as was usual in the past, chosen the seat closest to Soren, and she made it very clear with her body language that she intended to keep it.
Her shoulder pressed lightly against his whenever she shifted, no attempt to pretend it was accidental, and there was a quiet possessiveness to it that didn't come with words, only certainty.
"Alright," Soren said, voice pitched just loud enough to fill the table without feeling like a lecture. "It's time to do a proper club activity. We're getting close to the point where we have to submit a progress report."
Lev groaned immediately, head tipping back with theatrical misery.
Felix made a wounded sound in sympathy, one hand pressing dramatically to his chest.
Soren continued as if he hadn't heard either of them.
"We haven't actually done an activity yet," he said, letting the words land for just long enough to be undeniably true. "For reasons. We've been… very very busy."
The air dipped.
Not much, just a heartbeat where everyone's shoulders tightened in a way that had nothing to do with seating positions.
Esper's gaze lowered, a flicker of something tired and sharp in her eyes.
Lilliana's ears twitched and sank slightly.
Felix's fingers tightened around the chair, knuckles paling, and even Amelia's posture shifted, the pressure of her shoulder against his turning more deliberate.
Soren saw all of it.
It wasn't subtle.
And besides, his memory never forgot the way rooms changed when certain words were said, and it never let him pretend he hadn't noticed.
He refused to let guilt turn today into another uncomfortable silence.
He clapped again, sharper this time, a deliberate reset.
"But," he said, forcing brightness into his tone without making it fake, because fake would only make it worse, "that's all in the past. Today we do the plan Essy and Sis made when we formed the club."
He nodded toward Esper and Louise as he said it.
Louise sat up straighter immediately, pleased, like someone had just acknowledged her contribution in front of an audience.
Meanwhile, Esper wore a small grin, playful and satisfied, as if she had been waiting for someone to finally follow the structure she had outlined with such care.
On the other hand, Lev looked like he wanted to throw himself out the window.
Felix, at least, had the grace to look mildly entertained.
Soren leaned forward, elbows on the table, and let his gaze sweep the group once more.
"So, how many of you can bake… actually, bad question."
He paused, then corrected himself with a faint grimace.
"How many of you can even cook?"
Four hands went up.
Esper's, lazy and confident.
Lilliana's, polite and controlled.
Louise's, enthusiastic enough that her fingers practically waved.
Olivia's, hesitant at first, then steadier when she realised she wasn't alone.
Soren blinked.
"That's… more than I expected."
Esper smirked.
"Nobles still eat, Cutie. We just outsource the tragic parts."
Soren snorted quietly, then pointed a thumb at himself.
"Well, four plus me makes five. That's enough. What about the rest of you?"
Lev didn't even glance up from his stack of forms.
He tapped the papers with the back of his pen like they personally offended him.
"You've already made me slave away filling out all these stupid fucking forms," he said, voice flat with suffering. "Do you really think I'm going to start whisking egg whites too?"
"It's a club," Soren replied, "not a labour camp."
"Same thing."
Felix stretched, the motion exaggerated, as if he had been forced to move for the first time in days.
"Gonna be real with you, Soren. I can't be bothered."
Soren stared at him for a long second.
"You always say that."
"Because it's usually true."
"Yet you can always be bothered to pick up girls…" Soren muttered under his breath, mostly to himself.
Felix's head tilted, eyes narrowing.
"What was that?"
"Nothing," Soren said with the calm of a man refusing to dignify an accusation.
He pinched the bridge of his nose for half a second, then turned toward Amelia, because it was safer than continuing this conversation.
"…What about you?"
Amelia lifted her head slightly, eyes bright in that blunt, earnest way she had when she decided she wanted to participate.
"I could try."
Soren's anxiety flared on instinct, immediate and irrational, the way old memories sometimes hit harder than fresh ones.
For a split second, the image of Aria overlapped onto Amelia's face.
— Trust me! I'll make you the best birthday cake ever.
— Aha… it's… you have to trust the process…
— …Sorry. I'll leave it to you from now on.
The memory came with the same sick weight in his stomach and the same resigned disappointment that followed afterwards.
Perfect memory meant perfect recall, which meant he could still smell the burnt sugar if he thought about it long enough.
He forced the thought down before it swallowed the moment.
His hand reached out without him thinking about it, stroking the top of Amelia's head once, slow and familiar, fingers combing gently through her hair.
Amelia's posture softened instantly.
Her shoulders dropped, and she leaned into his palm with the quiet satisfaction of someone receiving a reward they hadn't asked for, but absolutely expected.
"No," Soren said gently, keeping his voice even. "Not today. We're on limited time, and there's no point in risking it."
Amelia's eyes narrowed in mild offence, a clear, wordless 'I could do it,' but she didn't pull away from the petting, which made her protest less convincing.
Around the table, a few people gave Soren strange looks.
Louise's smile grew, delighted, like she had just witnessed something adorable and mentally filed it away.
Esper's gaze flickered to Amelia, then away again, expression unreadable for a heartbeat before her usual composure slid back into place.
Lilliana's face didn't change, but her ears shifted, one ear lifting slightly, the other sinking, conflicted in a way that was almost painfully obvious if you knew how to read her.
Soren pretended he didn't notice any of it, because noticing it would mean thinking about it.
Next he turned toward Alex.
"And you?"
"I—" Alex began, straightening as if he had been called on in class, mouth opening with careful seriousness.
Olivia moved so fast it was almost impressive.
"He's fine," she blurted. "He can taste test."
Alex froze mid-sentence, blinking like he had been hit by a spell he didn't understand.
Olivia's cheeks went red, colour flooding up like it had been poured there, and there was a thin, panicked sheen in her eyes that made Soren almost laugh despite himself.
He could practically see her inner thoughts screaming in bold letters.
'No, no, no, not the kitchen, not the kitchen.'
Soren's smirk arrived before he could stop it, because a completely irrelevant scene from the game chose that exact moment to surface in his memory, vivid and perfectly timed in the way his brain found hilarious.
A third-year event, back when Olivia was visiting the Order of Aryn.
The Hero insisting, with absolute confidence, that he would cook for the party.
At first everyone had been thrilled.
Then the ingredients started going into the pot.
Then the party members started asking questions with increasing horror.
And then…
[Party Members ate Strange Dish. Status gained: Food Poisoning, Exhaustion, Nausea. Hero resisted the debuffs.]
Soren's smirk widened by a fraction.
'So it carried over.'
He clapped again, snapping himself back into the present before his expression turned into something too obvious.
"Right, so, five people in the kitchen. The other four handle the written portion and the research form while we cook, and after we eat. No complaints, right?"
Lev opened his mouth.
Soren didn't give him the chance.
"Okay, great," he continued smoothly, steamrolling with practiced ease, "kitchen's big enough for five, but it's still a kitchen. We're not moving like idiots. Should we do shifts or stations?"
Lilliana raised a hand slightly, the gesture small but firm.
"Stations," she said calmly. "It's safer. One person on mixing, one on baking, one on prep, one on plating, one on cleanup. We can rotate if we need to."
Soren nodded immediately.
That was exactly why he trusted her, because she always thought about the part that could go wrong before it did.
Esper nodded too.
"That matches the outline. The form also asks for process notes."
Olivia nodded as well, a little more timidly, but her voice steadied as she added, "And… tasting notes."
Soren pointed at them, one by one.
"Perfect. You four already sound like you've done this before."
"Duh, of course we have~" Esper said, as if the concept of a person not knowing how to cook was a foreign tragedy.
Louise beamed.
"I used to sneak into the kitchen at home. The chefs hated it."
Soren glanced at Olivia.
She hesitated, gaze dipping for a moment, then she nodded.
"In my village… everyone helped. If you didn't learn, you didn't eat."
Something in Soren's chest softened.
"Alright," he said, quieter for a beat. "Then we'll do this properly."
He tapped the table once, a clear signal that they were moving from talk to action.
"Kitchen team is me, Lilly, Sis, Essy, and Olivia," he said, keeping it simple. "Amelia is moral support and head of taste-testing."
Amelia's eyes brightened at the word "taste," posture straightening like she had been given an official title.
"Alex, you're her assistant and you can assist anyone who needs help," he added.
Alex nodded seriously, like he had been promoted to second-in-command.
"Felix," Soren said, turning toward him with the calm inevitability of a man delivering a sentence, "you're on paperwork."
Felix's face fell into immediate tragedy.
"Why me?"
"Because you have hands, and you've been acting like a smug piece of shit for five minutes straight."
Felix looked personally offended.
"That's discrimination."
"And Lev," Soren finished, shifting his gaze to the man already dying inside, "as you could already guess, you're on paperwork too."
Lev stared at him.
Then, slowly, he raised one hand and pointed to the stack of forms he had already been suffering over.
"I'm already on paperwork."
"Good," Soren said, deadpan. "Then you're warmed up."
Lev's expression turned murderous.
Louise giggled into her hand, shoulders shaking.
Esper's lips twitched, just barely.
Even Olivia looked like she wanted to laugh, though she fought it down with the discipline of someone who still wasn't used to letting herself be noisy in a group.
Soren pushed his chair back and stood, the motion drawing everyone's attention again.
"Alright," he said, voice returning to that easy, practical cadence that kept things moving. "Now we need to figure out dessert choices."
He glanced around the table, making sure the excitement didn't turn into chaos.
"We're making multiple things so there's variety. I doubt it would look good if we only made a single dish in an entire month. Nothing too complicated, though, just enough that the activity looks good on paper is what we're aiming for."
Then he pointed at Lilliana.
"You're probably the best cook here so you should pick first, Lilly."
Lilliana's ears lifted slightly at the compliment, pleased, and she accepted it without hesitation.
"I want to make a dark chocolate tart," she said, voice calm. "It's not as sweet. I'll add a bit of salt, and I can make a small coffee cream to go with it too."
Soren nodded, already approving.
That was exactly Lilliana: warm and grounded, and quietly brutal with bitterness when she thought it would taste better that way.
He looked at Louise next, because Louise was vibrating in her seat.
Louise didn't disappoint.
"I want to make something cute," she declared, both hands lifting as if she could shape the idea in the air. "Little animal cupcakes. With faces and bows and decorations and—"
Esper immediately leaned forward, eyes shining as she cut off Louise's words.
"We should do themed ones."
Louise gasped.
"Oh my—Yes!"
Soren pointed at both of them before they could start drafting an entire story arc for the frosting.
"You two are on decoration duty together, then."
Esper's expression turned proud, the kind of pride that suggested she was already planning a colour palette.
Louise looked like she had just been handed a crown.
Soren turned to Olivia.
Olivia hesitated, then spoke softly, eyes still on her cup.
"Maybe… fruit shortcakes. With fresh cream and berries?"
Soren smiled.
"If that's what you want to do, that works."
Then he looked at himself, because if he didn't decide quickly, Louise and Esper would start arguing about whether a cupcake should have a tragic backstory.
"I'll do a baked pudding. Something warm and filling, but not overly sweet. Hmm…" he thought for a moment. "Honey, cinnamon, maybe a bit of orange zest. I'll make enough for everyone."
Amelia's nose lifted slightly, the smallest inhale, as if she had already decided she approved.
Soren clapped one final time.
"Okay," he said, and his tone made it sound less like an order and more like a promise that they were actually doing this. "Kitchen team, move. Lev and Felix, enjoy your suffering. Alex, don't let them fuck up the form."
Alex blinked.
"What?"
"Just…" Soren waved a hand vaguely, already turning away, "make sure the writing is legible."
Felix dragged himself to his feet dramatically, acting like he had been stabbed.
Lev stood up like he was marching to execution, papers gathered under his arm.
As the kitchen team filed toward the adjoining room, Soren felt Amelia's hand catch his sleeve lightly.
He glanced down.
Amelia looked up at him, quiet and expectant, expression steady, as if she was waiting for a confirmation that she still belonged close.
Soren's mood stayed easy, so he made it easy for her too.
He reached over, stroked her hair once, and watched her shoulders relax.
"Just stand near my station," he said, mostly because he knew she would anyway.
Amelia nodded once, satisfied.
Today, at least, the club was finally acting like a club.
————「❤︎」————