The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of the Grand Cafeteria, casting long golden beams across the marble floors.
Will Harlan was already awake and working.
He stood behind the serving counter in his slightly stained apron, ladling out bowls of simple porridge enhanced with herbs he had secretly added for a mild focus buff. Students streamed past him in their pristine mage robes, chatting loudly about classes, spells, and upcoming duels.
Most of them didn't even glance at him.
A few did — and smirked.
"Hey, it's the soup guy," one noble student whispered loudly to his friends. "Heard he defeated a Flamefang Beast by feeding it chili. What a joke."
Laughter rippled through the line.
Will kept his head down and continued serving, but his grip on the ladle tightened slightly. The Mother's Worn Pot sat on a low shelf behind him, its faint silver-gray light almost invisible in the bright cafeteria lighting.
"Next," he said calmly.
A familiar voice answered.
"I'll have whatever you recommend, Chef."
Will looked up.
Einsfel stood in front of the counter, wearing her deep blue and gold-trimmed academy uniform. Her long silver-gray hair was tied back with a simple ribbon, but a few strands still framed her face elegantly. She looked every bit the talented new student — graceful, composed, and quietly powerful.
Their eyes met.
For a brief moment, the noisy cafeteria seemed to quiet down.
Will's lips curved into a small, genuine smile.
"Spicy Power Soup," he said softly. "It should help stabilize your magic flow during morning training."
Einsfel's cheeks gained the faintest touch of pink as she accepted the bowl.
"Thank you," she replied, her voice gentle but carrying a hint of teasing warmth. "I'll make sure to savor every bite."
She took a spoonful right there at the counter.
The moment the rich, spicy broth touched her tongue, her blue eyes fluttered slightly. A soft, barely visible blue glow shimmered around her body as her restless morning magic began to settle.
She let out a tiny, almost inaudible sigh of relief.
"…Perfect as always," she murmured, just loud enough for Will to hear. "It feels like home."
Will felt warmth spread through his chest.
Around them, a few students noticed the interaction and started whispering again.
"Isn't that Einsfel? The new genius from the border?"
"Why is she talking to the cook?"
Einsfel ignored the whispers completely. She took another spoonful, her expression softening with each bite. The faint magical glow around her grew steadier.
Then she leaned slightly closer to the counter.
"Tonight," she whispered. "My room. You promised me a proper celebration meal."
Will's heart skipped.
Before he could answer, a loud, mocking voice cut through the air.
"Well, well. If it isn't the soup boy entertaining our new star student."
Cyrus Vaughn strolled up to the counter, flanked by two senior students. His golden hair was perfectly styled, and his robe bore the elegant crest of the academy's elite class. He looked at Will with open disdain, then turned his gaze to Einsfel.
"Miss Einsfel, you really shouldn't waste your time with kitchen staff. Someone of your talent belongs with proper mages."
Einsfel's expression remained calm, but Will noticed the faint flicker of magic around her fingers — a sign her power was reacting to the provocation.
She set her bowl down gently.
"Proper mages?" she repeated, her voice cool and steady. "I think the one who actually defeated a Flamefang Beast during the test has already proven himself more useful than empty words."
Cyrus's smile froze.
The surrounding students went quiet.
Einsfel picked up her bowl again, gave Will one last soft look, and walked away without another word.
Cyrus stared after her, then turned his cold gaze back to Will.
"You may have slipped in through some loophole, cook," he said quietly, "but this academy runs on magic. Not whatever circus tricks you perform with pots and spices. Don't get too comfortable."
He turned and left, his entourage following with sneers.
Will let out a slow breath and went back to serving.
But inside, a quiet fire had been lit.
He wasn't here to prove anything to Cyrus.
He was here for Einsfel.
And if cooking was the only weapon he had…
Then he would make it the strongest one in the entire academy.
Later that afternoon, during a short break, Will stood alone in the small prep kitchen behind the cafeteria.
He placed the Mother's Worn Pot on the counter and stared at it.
The silver-gray light along its rim had grown a little brighter since yesterday.
He picked up the Inherited Kitchen Knife and began preparing ingredients for the evening — nothing fancy yet, just simple but heartfelt dishes he knew Einsfel loved.
As he worked, he whispered to the quiet kitchen.
"I'm not strong like them. I don't have magic. But I have this."
The knife flashed.
The pot simmered.
And somewhere deep inside, that small, warm spark of Flavor Awakening flickered just a little stronger.
Tonight, he would cook for Einsfel.
Not just to celebrate passing the test.
But to remind her — and himself — why he had come all this way.