Across from Soren, Lilliana set a bowl down and glanced over, her ears angled slightly forward.
Her voice stayed quiet when she spoke, not shaped like a compliment so much as an observation she had been holding back.
"You look better."
Soren paused for half a second, the words landing somewhere deeper than they had any right to.
"Yeah," he said, and the smile that followed wasn't forced. "I feel better."
Lilliana's ears shifted, relief softening the edges of her expression in a way she probably didn't even realise she had shown.
"Good."
Soren didn't let the moment stretch into something heavy, because heavy moments had a way of turning the room sharp again.
He reached for a pot instead, set it on the burner, and started warming milk, letting the simple motions bring the conversation back into normal space.
The quiet bubbling promise of heat.
The familiar clink of utensils.
The routine of doing something harmless.
Behind him, a chair scraped in the dining room.
Felix's voice drifted over the half wall with immediate outrage.
"This form is disgusting. It's asking for methodology."
Lev replied instantly, and there was no patience in it.
"Wow, shocking, now shut up and write the words."
Felix made an offended noise, as if Lev had asked him to donate a kidney.
"You write the words. You're the one who signed up to be the club's paperwork slave."
Lev's chair scraped too, a warning sound.
"I signed a contract to be an alchemist. I didn't sign up for this shit."
Soren glanced over his shoulder, amused despite himself, and caught the scene through the half wall.
Alex sat between them like a mediator who had been accidentally placed in a war zone, posture straight, eyes serious, the form in front of him as if it was a sacred document that deserved his full respect.
His focus didn't waver even when Felix gestured dramatically enough to knock a pen aside.
Felix stabbed a finger at a section.
"See? It wants 'observations.' Observations of what? Cooking?"
Lev snapped, voice sharp and immediate.
"Yes. Cooking. What would it be asking about you complete moron?"
Felix smiled sweetly, infuriatingly calm.
"I'm not a moron, Lev. I'm ornamental."
"Ornamental trash."
Soren turned back to his pot before he started laughing, because the moment he laughed out loud, Felix would commit harder out of spite and Lev would actually throw something.
He kept stirring, milk warming, cinnamon and honey waiting on the side.
The smell was faint at first, then slowly began to rise as the heat pulled sweetness into the air.
A small shift of movement drew his attention again.
Amelia had moved closer, close enough that her head was resting on his shoulder when she felt it was safe to do so.
She watched the room with quiet interest, gaze flicking between bowls, ingredients, and the dining room complaints as if she was tracking multiple battles at once.
Soren felt her shift.
A fraction of weight moving, a change in breath.
He glanced sideways.
Amelia's eyes were on him.
At first glance, she looked completely normal, expression bored, but Soren could tell she was enjoying herself right now by the faint curve of her lips.
His hand moved automatically, reaching up to stroke the top of her head once.
Soren kept petting Amelia like it was the most normal thing in the world, because to him it was.
He didn't even think about it until he felt the atmosphere shift, the air gaining that faint tension that always came right before someone spoke.
Louise's mouth curled into a delighted grin.
"Awww."
Amelia's smile vanished instantly, replaced by a flat stare so sharp it could've sliced frosting.
Soren paused, hand stilling.
"Sis," he said, warning already built into the word.
Louise clasped her hands together, unrepentant.
"I'm just saying! It's cute! I wanted to say something before, but the mood wasn't right!"
Esper cleared her throat a little too loudly, then returned to arranging frosting tips with exaggerated focus, as if frosting suddenly required her full political attention.
Lilliana didn't say anything, but she stepped a little closer to Soren under the excuse of checking the oven temperature, her movement measured and calm, as if she wasn't reacting at all.
Soren pulled his hand away from Amelia's head, and Amelia's expression turned faintly regretful, as if she had lost something she hadn't meant to show in the first place.
He looked down at Lilliana.
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah," Lilliana said smoothly, gaze on the oven controls, voice steady. "I just wanted to make sure it was preheated properly."
"Alright."
Soren turned back to his station, stirred mixture, watching the colour deepen, the scent growing warmer.
The simple routine kept his hands busy while his mind stayed light.
A glance toward Amelia.
"You still hungry?" he asked, tone casual.
Amelia's eyes narrowed, as if he had asked something stupid on purpose.
"Always."
Soren smiled.
"Good. Then try it again."
She accepted that like a serious responsibility, leaning over his shoulder again with a satisfied look that said she had been promoted.
He kept stirring until the mixture was warm enough to coat the spoon, then lifted it with a faint smirk.
"Here."
Amelia didn't hesitate.
She leaned forward and chomped down on the spoon without delay, then immediately wrinkled her nose.
"Blegh…"
"Heh…" Soren chuckled, unable to stop it. "I guess I added too much cinnamon."
Amelia glared at him, then turned her head away in a huff, posture radiating offended dignity.
Soren's grin softened without him meaning to.
'It's impossible not to tease her. She's so cute when she gets all pouty.'
He returned his attention to the pot as the mixture warmed further, and while he measured the next ingredients, a soft set of footsteps approached his counter.
Olivia moved closer carrying a bowl of berries, shoulders slightly hunched like she didn't want anyone else to hear.
Her voice dropped when she spoke.
"Soren," she whispered.
Soren tilted his head a fraction, hands still working.
"Yeah? What's up?"
Olivia's gaze flicked toward the dining room, then toward Alex, then back down at the berries like they had suddenly become the most important thing in the world.
"…We went out yesterday," she whispered even quieter.
Soren's eyebrows lifted.
He kept his hands moving, because he had learned Olivia spoke more easily when the attention wasn't pinned directly on her face.
"Outside the academy?" he asked softly.
Olivia nodded quickly, cheeks warming.
"It was… nice."
"That's progress," Soren said, voice gentle, keeping it low so only she could hear. "Did he say anything stupid?"
Olivia looked startled, like the question hadn't even occurred to her as a possibility.
"No!" she said a bit too loud, then startled herself and shrank slightly, eyes widening with embarrassment. "No, he was… very sweet."
Soren smirked, the expression careful not to turn too sharp.
"That guy? Are you sure we have the same person in mind?"
Olivia stared at him for a second, then realised he was teasing and let out a tiny, nervous laugh that sounded more like relief than amusement.
"He is sweet… sometimes," she admitted, fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the bowl. "He asked if he could walk me back, and then he did."
Soren kept his tone light, because she needed light.
"And you didn't die, did you?"
Olivia's eyes narrowed, offended in a way that was almost cute.
"Of course not."
Soren glanced at her, then softened his voice.
"I told you it wouldn't be that bad. Did you have fun, though?"
Olivia hesitated.
For a moment she looked like she was trying to find a "safe" answer, something modest and controlled, the kind of response people couldn't mock.
Then she swallowed, and the sincerity won out.
"Yes," she said quietly, the word small but solid. "It was the best."
The simple honesty hit harder than a longer speech would have.
"Good," Soren said, nodding once.
He let the approval sit there, steady and unquestioned, then added, "Next step is making sure it happens again. And next time, you have to ask him something first, like I told you."
Olivia froze, eyes widening, face immediately turning a brighter shade of pink.
"Me?"
"Yes, you. Who else would I be talking about? He's doing all the work. You're the one who keeps panicking and going silent. You can't just wait and hope the opportunity will come by."
Olivia's mouth opened, then closed.
She looked like she wanted to argue, but she couldn't find a lie that would work, and Soren had no intention of letting her hide behind one anyway.
His mouth quirked slightly.
"Ask him to go get food. Ask him to go watch a play. Anything works as long as you take the initiative. A date between people who are already close doesn't need to be a big deal, it's just an excuse to be together."
Olivia swallowed, eyes flicking away as if she was trying to avoid imagining it, because imagining it made it feel too real.
"Okay," she whispered. "Thank you."
Soren nodded once, and his voice stayed warm when he spoke again.
"I told you I'd help. You'll definitely end up together, I'll make sure of it."
Olivia's cheeks flushed deeper, and she made her escape immediately, pivoting away with the bowl hugged to her chest as if it could shield her from her own embarrassment.
Only then did Soren shift his attention fully back to the pot, because the mixture was thickening now, the surface growing glossy, heat pulling the cinnamon and honey into something richer.
He stirred slowly, watching the change, grounding himself in the simplicity of it.
Across the kitchen, Louise had already piped faces onto three cupcakes.
They were absurdly expressive: one had wide, sparkling eyes, another had its tongue sticking out, and the third had a little frown that made it seem personally betrayed by the world.
Now she was arguing with Esper about whether the bear should have blushing cheeks.
"It needs blush," Louise insisted, hands on the counter, posture fierce with conviction. "You just don't get it."
Esper tapped the counter lightly, irritation and amusement mixing in equal measure.
"Ugh, why are you so difficult? Be more like my Cutie. How are you related?"
Louise's eyes widened like she had been challenged to a duel.
"I won't budge on this! It needs feelings!"
Esper stared at her, expression flat.
Then, very slowly, she nodded.
"Fine… minimal blush."
Louise looked triumphant, as if she had secured a political victory.
At the other station, Lilliana slid a tart pan into the oven with practised ease, then turned back to the counter and started whisking the dark chocolate filling with steady patience.
The motion was smooth and controlled, her wrist barely moving, her posture calm, as if she could do this while half asleep.
Soren watched her for a second, then spoke casually, the words slipping out without weight but still honest.
"You always pick bitter."
Lilliana didn't look up, whisk never slowing.
"Sweet things are tiring," she replied. "I told you, didn't I? My tastes changed after coming here."
Soren hummed, amused.
"You did. I'd never forget that."
The sentence was simple, but it carried truth in a way that sometimes startled people, because most people forgot.
Most people didn't keep small preferences filed perfectly away in their mind like they mattered.
Lilliana's whisk slowed for a fraction, and her ears angled slightly toward him.
"You picked honey," she said quietly.
Soren shrugged, keeping it casual.
"You like it."
"And orange zest?" Lilliana added, eyes flicking to the ingredients he had pulled.
Soren paused, then smirked.
"Amelia likes the smell."
At her name, Amelia's ears flicked, and she leaned a little closer without pretending she hadn't been listening, her posture immediately satisfied by the acknowledgement.
Lilliana's expression stayed composed, but her gaze lingered a moment longer than it needed to, not quite on Amelia, not quite on Soren, hovering somewhere between them before returning to her bowl.
From the dining room, Felix made another dramatic sound, loud enough to carry.
"This is torture," he announced.
Lev snapped back instantly. "If you write some bullshit like 'flour is white,' I will stab you with a pen."
Alex's voice cut in, earnest and sincere, like he was trying to save society one form at a time.
"We should document the mixing ratios. It's important."
Felix stared at him like Alex had personally insulted his soul.
"…Alex," Felix said slowly, "you're terrifying."
Alex blinked, genuinely confused.
"Why?"
Felix gestured at the forms as if they were evidence in a trial.
"Because you're serious about this."
Soren stirred his pot and smiled to himself, warmth settling in his chest in a way he didn't want to analyse too closely.
This was easy.
This was normal.
This was a club doing something stupid and harmless, with Lev and Felix suffering for everyone else's benefit and Alex taking it seriously enough to make the suffering productive.
It felt like a pause they were allowed to have.
————「❤︎」————