When Lunch Arrives

Professor Schafer was already walking out when he stopped mid-step, glancing back at the students.

"By the way, in three months, the Annual Track Tournament will be held. So, you'd better team up with the best students in your track. If you need details, ask your seniors—I'm busy. Now, you're dismissed. Go eat your lunch."

The students were curious but Professor Schafer's hurried exit avoided them from asking further questions.

They had no choice but to ask the seniors.

***

The cafeteria buzzed with chatter and the occasional burst of laughter, and clinking of plates.

Students gathered in groups, discussing lessons or boasting about their training.

Austin, however, sat alone at a corner table, poking at the warm meal in front of him.

It was a rare moment of peace.

Just as he lifted a spoonful of stew to his mouth, a shadow loomed over him.

Splosh.

Warm, sticky liquid dripped down his head. The entire tray—soup, bread, and even a chunk of meat—had been upended right onto him.

Silence spread through the nearby tables as students turned to see the source of the commotion.

Austin slowly wiped his eyes, clearing the broth from his lashes.

Aidan, standing beside him, grinned down with feigned innocence, his empty tray still in hand.

"Oh no," Aidan drawled, his voice dripping with mock concern. "I must've slipped."

Laughter erupted from the surrounding students, some whispering, others outright cackling at the spectacle.

Austin remained still, his expression unreadable.

Aidan leaned in, lowering his voice so only Austin could hear. "What's wrong? You're not gonna cry, are you?"

Austin exhaled softly. The stew clung to his hair, soaking into his uniform. He could feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck, but it wasn't from shame. It was irritation.

Still, he said nothing.

Instead, he calmly pushed back his chair, standing up. His once-clean shirt stuck to his skin, and his tray was overturned, its contents wasted.

Aidan expected a reaction—anger, humiliation, maybe even tears. But Austin simply picked up his empty tray, flicking off a stray piece of vegetable, and met Aidan's gaze with unsettling calmness.

"Done?" Austin asked, his voice even.

Aidan's grin faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered, scoffing. "What, no fight? No whining? You really are a weak Saintling."

Austin didn't respond. He simply walked past Aidan, heading toward the kitchen area to return his tray.

His footsteps were measured, steady.

He could still hear the murmurs and laughter behind him, but they didn't matter.

As he reached the back of the cafeteria, he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflective surface of a polished serving dish.

His hair was a mess, his uniform stained. But his expression remained blank.

He knew how this worked.

People like Aidan thrived on reactions.

He wanted Austin to snap, to lash out, to do something that would justify further torment.

But Austin wasn't going to play that game.

Not yet.

***

Austin exited the cafeteria, the cool air outside offering some relief from the lingering heat of the soup.

He needed to clean up.

His feet carried him toward the nearest water pump, tucked away behind one of the academy's side buildings.

As he twisted the handle, cold water rushed out. He leaned down, letting it run over his hair, washing away the mess. The stained uniform would take more effort, but for now, he focused on the immediate problem.

"I thought you were going to punch him."

Austin sighed. He didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

Standing a few steps away was Egbert.

Austin ran a hand through his wet hair, shaking off excess water before responding. "And what would that have done?"

Egbert sighed. "He'll know his place."

Austin turned to face him, arms crossed. "And then? He'd play the victim."

Egbert clicked his tongue. "Are you really gonna let this slide? 'Cause I can't—I F**king can't!" His breathing started to get uneven. "And why are you acting like you've dealt with something like this before? I've been with you all your life!"

Austin didn't answer.

He had. Just not in this life.

Egbert leaned against the wall, watching Austin wring out his uniform. "You're too calm for your own good, you know. Makes people uneasy."

Austin let out a short laugh. "And fighting back wouldn't?"

"Fair point."

"You know, your calmer than usual. What happened?" Austin asked as he straightened up to wait for his answer.

"I saw something I shouldn't have."

"What?"

"I saw Aidan."

"Him?"

A moment of silence stretched between them before Egbert pushed off the wall. "Well, if you want revenge, just let me know. I'd be happy to 'accidentally' trip Aidan in the training grounds."

Austin shook his head, smirking. "Tempting, but unnecessary."

"Suit yourself." Egbert stretched his arms above his head before walking off. "See you somewhere, brother. I need to attend a meeting with some of my classmates for the Annual Track Tournament. Good luck with yours."

Austin wanted to ask him about the tournament but he already ran off so he just watched him go, then glanced down at himself.

His clothes were still damp, but at least he didn't smell like stew anymore.

He exhaled, looking up at the sky before walking off to one of the hallways.

Yanika paused mid-step, along with her two friends, when she spotted Austin, his uniform damp, hair clinging to his forehead. She frowned, crossing her arms.

"Why are you wet?" she asked, raising a brow.

Her friends started to murmur among themselves as they eyed Austin.

Austin barely glanced at her as he shook out some of the water from his sleeves. "Not important." His tone was casual, almost dismissive. "Anyway, about the Annual Track Tournament—how does it work?"

Yanika narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced, but sighed, deciding to let it go. "You're changing the subject, but fine. The tournament is—"

Austin listened as he walked alongside the trio.

"—The Annual Track Tournament is basically a big competition where Mages and Sages face off in different games. The most anticipated event is the five-mam battle between tracks."

Austin listened intently.

"Students can team up with friends from any year, but only if they're in the same track," she continued. "Once registered, they fight against opposing track teams. And every year…" She paused, crossing her arms. "Mages win. Every. Single. Time."

Austin hummed in understanding.

"That's why Sages get laughed at," Yanika added, her voice tinged with frustration. "When the tournament comes around, the bullying shifts from family lineage to tracks."

Austin glanced at her, noticing the faint downturn of her lips. "Is that why you always look sad when the tracks come up?"

Yanika's steps faltered slightly before she regained her pace. "How did you—"

"I just noticed," Austin said simply.

Before she could respond, Austin called out the time.

"Lunch is almost up."

"We'll be late for class," Yanika agreed. "We better hurry." She said as she motioned for the girls behind her to hurry.

Austin exhaled, giving her a slight nod before heading off to his next class as well.