The government facility arranged for them had a cafeteria.
Three meals a day, snacks, desserts—everything was here.
From the agency's perspective, if just offering food was enough to keep these Created with extraordinary powers quiet, then it was a bargain. They could fly, they had monstrous physical abilities, some could use legendary magic, summon guardian spirits… in a sense, their existence was more terrifying than guns or missiles.
Because firearms could be controlled. Weapons had no will of their own—once the user was gone, the threat ended. But the Created had thoughts of their own.
And though they came from different worlds, they all seemed to love the food of this world.
Meteora speculated it was because this world carried an overwhelming density of information. That density made food rich with flavors their worlds had never held. After all, in this world, information was so abundant it could collect human emotions and fantasies, creating entire story-worlds.
And besides—words and drawings could never perfectly capture the taste of real food. This wasn't a gourmet anime; no Creator would waste paragraphs of prose or panels of ink just to detail aroma, texture, and flavor.
This world held too many things their worlds lacked. Dishes that tasted divine. Drinks that refreshed the soul. The wind carried scents of flowers, soil, dew. Even the sunlight falling on skin seemed to have a flavor. To them, everything was new.
Kanoya Rui loved coming to the cafeteria. Even when he wasn't hungry, he came. Ice cream, oden, cakes, milk tea, fruit… Before entering this world, he never knew that food alone could make someone this happy.
"Mmmm! This oden's so good… My world has oden too, but the difference is huge. Totally unfair… I'm jealous of the people here, able to eat food this delicious anytime."
Seated with a paper cup in one hand and a bamboo skewer in the other, Rui had just devoured a long chikuwa in three bites.
He chewed with relish, happiness written all over his face. The taste spread through his mouth as if it filled his entire being. People of this world probably couldn't understand why anyone would look so blissful over a piece of oden.
Like nobles not understanding why peasants, lacking bread, wouldn't simply buy cake. …Not Marie Antoinette, of course—history showed she never actually said "let them eat cake." She'd been misunderstood.
But Jin Hui-di of Jin dynasty really had said, "Why not eat porridge of meat?"
Mizushino Sōta also sat at the table, a tray of beautifully prepared dishes before him. But unlike Rui, he ate without appetite. To him, these meals didn't taste any different from the food he'd always had. And besides—after last night's events, his mood was too heavy.
Rui, meanwhile, popped another fish ball into his mouth. This wasn't his dinner—it was dessert. He'd already finished his actual meal, and now this was just a greedy aftertaste. But when he looked up, he was surprised to see Sōta's plate was barely touched.
"Hey, Sōta—such good food, and you've hardly eaten."
He drained the soup from his cup, set it aside, and leaned forward to peer at Sōta's face. "Farmers, chefs… they worked so hard to make such good food. You can't waste it, right?"
"Ah… sorry."
Sōta rubbed at his pants nervously, gaze dropping. "I just… don't have the appetite. Everyone else is in the conference room because of what happened last night, and here we are sneaking off to eat…"
"What do you mean sneaking? We walked out in the open! You're way too paranoid, Sōta. Don't make it sound like we're bad students hiding in the bathroom while everyone else is out running laps, leaving the teacher and classmates in trouble."
Rui bristled, still holding his skewer.
Of course he bristled—Mirokuji Yūya had stormed out even earlier than them. If someone took the lead, why not follow?
Running a red light might be nerve-wracking—but if everyone runs it, what's the point of panic?
"I think you should learn from Yuna and Van Gogh. At least their mindset, if nothing else… Look at them—they're so much calmer."
Sōta pressed his lips together, unconvinced. Rui simply gestured toward Shimazaki Yuna and Van Gogh, seated at the same table.
Van Gogh, eating, wore the same blissful expression as the other Created. Coupled with her doll-like cuteness, she was a favorite in the cafeteria. The cooks were delighted by her joy—it gave them pride in their work.
"Slow down. No one's going to steal your plate," Yuna said, watching Van Gogh's hurried eating.
"Mmff… but… it's so good… If this were my last meal, I'd have to fill my stomach as much as possible… starving hurts too much…"
Van Gogh had slipped into her strange, melancholy words again, heavy with despair.
"This isn't your last meal. You'll eat like this every day from now on."
The two's conversation reached Rui and Sōta, and for a while neither spoke.
"Van Gogh aside… at least you could learn from Yuna's mindset, right?" Rui finally said. He had noticed too—Van Gogh's mental state seemed far worse than Sōta's.
No wonder Yuna had said she feared what would happen if Van Gogh was ever left alone. With that fragile state, it was worrying indeed.
Still… as long as Yuna stayed, Van Gogh should be okay. Not Rui's burden to carry.
Van Gogh's eyes were clouded with confusion as she tilted her head. A hand reached out—Yuna's—wiping her mouth with a napkin. She was cared for in every detail.
Sōta watched them blankly, then turned to Rui, puzzled.
"Aren't you worried?"
They'd just suffered a crushing defeat.
Two of their strongest Created were practically destroyed in an instant. Against Alicetaria's transformed form, it had been a complete one-sided crush.
Two Creators—Suruga Junma and Takarada Gai—had been captured. What would happen to them? What kind of fate awaited? No one knew.
Sōta couldn't stop imagining their plight. He wanted to rescue them, to find some way to overturn the situation, to help Selesia and the others.
"Why burden yourself so much?"
Rui suddenly spoke. He sipped his milk tea, one arm propped on the table, gaze heavy-lidded as he looked at Sōta's wide, anxious eyes.
"You don't need to be this worked up. You're not a Created. You're not even a Creator. At most, you're just a bystander dragged into this by accident."
"Ah—don't get me wrong, I'm not saying you're useless. We've all seen your effort. Thanks to you we identified the Created quickly. Even the identity of that Military Uniform Princess—we learned it because of you. What I'm saying is: everyone should do what they can, within their scope. Kings have their talents. Chefs have theirs. No one expects a king to cook gourmet meals, and no one expects a chef to govern a nation."
"In my eyes, you're the type who even worries about things beyond your reach. Always forcing yourself to understand, even when no one asked it of you. You think—what if I could've helped? Then blame yourself when you didn't. You pile on guilt until you break. That's exhausting, kid."
Rui's words left Sōta at a loss. No one had spoken to him like this before.
Then Rui suddenly slung an arm around his neck. For someone like Sōta—shy, timid, introverted—it was a shocking closeness. His body stiffened on reflex.
"You treat mistakes like the end of the world. You fear failure so much you give up before you begin. How can that work? Acting like one wrong step will make the sky collapse. But tied up like that, even things you could do will end in failure."
"You asked if I'm worried? Why would I be? I know my limits. I'll try to grow, sure. But I won't waste myself worrying over things outside my reach. And you? Not a Creator, not a Created. Even if you stretch your nerves to the breaking point, what will it change? Stay in that conference room, waiting for a chance—and not even knowing what chance you're waiting for? Just sitting there, letting the heavy air crush you piece by piece? That's pointless."
"So that's why you dragged him out of there?"
Yuna's eyes turned on Rui, surprised.
She'd thought he was just a hot-blooded type who rushed in without thought. Yet here he was, speaking philosophy.
"Well, he really did look like he was gonna break."
Rui pulled his arm back, shrugged at her, sipping his milk tea. "I've seen people crack under too much self-pressure. It's scary."
"But… knowing it in your head and acting on it are two different things."
Yuna's eyes slid toward Sōta, head down, silent. Who knew how much he'd heard, or what he'd make of it?
"No problem. I already dragged him out. At least the conference room atmosphere won't crush him now."
Rui's tone was casual. He hadn't expected one speech to remake Sōta. He wasn't a miracle talker.
If he were that smooth, he'd already have gotten the girl he liked.
Nah—he was better with action than words. Later, he'd just haul Sōta into the Gigas Machina, take him soaring ten thousand meters into the sky. Then he'd understand—no tiny mistake would ever bring this vast sky crashing down.
Compared to such an endless sky, small failures were nothing.
Right now, though, Rui's attention shifted to Van Gogh.
"You live in this world, but you really love food. I thought only us Created could taste it so deeply. To look that happy over a meal…"
Honestly, if not for the records proving her identity, Rui would have thought Van Gogh was one of them too.
Hearing this, Van Gogh lowered her head and laughed, low and eerie.
"Ehehe… Van Gogh is happy… as long as she can eat her fill. To eat every day… with fish, with meat… ahhh… and to have friends who accept her like this… floating, like dream-shadows… makes Van Gogh uneasy. For someone so lazy, with no resolve to burn herself to ashes for her work… does such a Van Gogh deserve happiness?"
At those words, Rui and Sōta both fell silent. Their eyes rose together, turning to Yuna with complicated looks.
Yuna shook her head firmly.
Yes, I know she sounds dark. But no—I haven't been abusing her! Don't look at me like that! I'm doing my best to help her heal!
"Really, most people want happiness without effort, don't they? Only, instead of 'happiness'—too vague, too distant—they prefer money. You know, the dream of 'earning cash while lying down.'"
Rui leaned back in his chair, relaxed. "I can't understand your thinking, Van Gogh. Me? I'm a common guy, waiting for free pies to fall from the sky."