020. Tension

"Tell me, what was that?! I won't reveal it to anyone, but I need to know what saved me so I can reward the owner diligently."

"Like I said, it's just luck—nothing else," he said again.

She glared at him, her expression devoid of any clear emotion in that moment—eyes fixed, and heavy with unspoken questions—as she held that long, deliberate stare, almost like she was trying to peel back the layers of his silence, to see if he'd finally break and open up.

'She's far more persistent than I initially gave her credit for,' he thought, his brows tightening slightly.

'And did she really just say she saw a black hole emerge from my hands? Could that possibly be how Soulfade actually works?'

The thought echoed in his head as he continued to stare back at her, his gaze steady and unreadable, silently matching her intensity beat for beat.

She leaned back slightly, giving him a long, unreadable look before dropping her chopsticks into her tray with a soft clatter.

Then, without warning, she leaned in—close enough that he could feel the faint warmth of her breath, the tone of her voice barely above a whisper.

"You can't just tell me it was luck and expect me to believe that," she murmured, her words sharp and deliberate.

"I don't know what you're hiding, but whatever it is… soon, everyone else will know too."

And just like that, she pulled back. Her tone shifted, almost like an afterthought.

"By the way, thanks for saving me back there. It's the least I can say to show some appreciation."

Before he could respond, she rose from her seat, leaving most of her food untouched. The conversation hadn't gone the way he imagined it would—not for a first encounter, and certainly not for two people who'd never spoken before.

But there was little he could do to change that now. So he exhaled quietly, let it slide, and went back to his meal in silence.

"Oh well..."

He sat there for a while, quietly finishing his meal, unbothered by the tension that still lingered in the air. Nothing—absolutely nothing—could make him skip a meal.

Not awkward stares, not unanswered questions, not even a girl who claimed to have seen a black hole erupt from his palms.

Even if the world was crumbling to dust around him, he'd probably still be seated with a tray in front of him, chewing his last bite while everything burned down.

'So the Soulfade manifests as a black hole and absorbs any element, depending on the durability or the user?' he asked himself as he stared at his palms.

'I'm guessing it's because the trial is free, so the skill doesn't depend on my durability yet—not until the free trial is over. Which remains nine trials.'

'Everything I'm saying is just speculation anyway, not fact yet. I would have loved to check it out myself, but I don't want to waste the free trial when I haven't gotten enough narrative points to use skills properly in a battle.'

He raised his head slowly, staring at his now-empty plate with a vague sense of disappointment. Then his eyes drifted to her tray—still sitting there, half full, abandoned without a second thought.

He stared at it, then back at his own plate.

Sure, he loved food. Loved it more than most things. But even he had limits... right? There was no way he'd actually go and eat someone else's half-finished meal. That would definitely be crossing a line.

He stood up, picking up both trays like a responsible student heading to the return counter—at least, that's what it looked like at first. But halfway there, he stopped, turned, and slid down into the seat she had just vacated.

Without hesitation, he picked up his own utensils and started eating her leftovers like it was the most natural thing in the world. No shame, and no second thoughts. Just quiet, focused chewing—as if the tray had always belonged to him.

"No one wastes food around me," he murmured as he stuffed himself with the food she left over.

He finished the last bite without ceremony, wiped his mouth clean with a crumpled serviette, and let out a small, content sigh.

His stomach, now filled to the brim, pressed slightly against the fabric of his uniform shirt, making it puff out just enough to be noticeable—not that he cared.

He stood up with the casual air of someone who'd just done absolutely nothing wrong, stacked both trays in his hands, and made his way to the return counter.

On the way, he grabbed a cup of water, drank it in one go, then set it down without a second glance.

Without so much as a look back, he walked out of the cafeteria like he hadn't just eaten someone else's lunch—and enjoyed every bite of it.

As he made his way through the quiet corridor, hands in his pockets and steps unhurried, he headed back toward the classroom—just to check if another lecture was on the schedule.

The halls were mostly empty now, filled only with the faint hum of distant chatter and the squeak of rubber soles against linoleum.

Then, without warning, the system interface flickered into view—hovering faintly at the upper corner of his vision.

It was subtle, just translucent enough not to obstruct his sight, yet vivid enough that he couldn't ignore it. A soft glow, barely noticeable to anyone else.

Not that it mattered, because no one else could see it anyway.

For reasons he still didn't understand, the interface was invisible to everyone but him—no reflections on glass, no shadows cast, no reactions from the people around him.

Just a quiet presence, existing in that strange space between reality and something else entirely.

"I wonder what could be the update this time around," he smiled as he saw the system screen materialize in front of him.

"Probably new skills," he smirked.

He tapped on the blinking icon to check the messages, then it popped into view.

«SYSTEM WARNING»

[Plot Deviation Detected: Unstable]

You changed a key event, and now the storyline is no longer stable.

→ The upcoming academy field exam has been altered.

→ A new, unexpected threat will appear to balance the changes.

«Be ready, Kael. The System will not fix this for you.»