# **Chapter 6: The Cafeteria Showdown**
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### **A Hall of Whispers**
The Moonlight Magic Academy's grand cafeteria was a spectacle of enchanted elegance—a vast, vaulted hall of white marble veined with gold, its ceiling enchanted to mirror the night sky regardless of the hour. Floating lanterns cast a warm glow over the long oak tables, where students clustered in their usual factions:
- **First-years**, wide-eyed and nervous, huddled near the walls.
- **Second-years**, more confident, laughing too loudly to prove themselves.
- **Third-years and seniors**, lounging like royalty, their robes embroidered with family crests.
The air hummed with chatter, clinking silverware, and the occasional burst of fire magic as someone showed off.
Then **Ethan Gale walked in.**
A ripple of silence spread outward from the entrance like a shockwave. First-years flinched. Second-years stopped mid-bite. Even a few seniors glanced up, eyebrows raised.
*"It's him…"*
*"The one who destroyed Rolan Veyne…"*
*"They say he used ancient magic…"*
Ethan ignored them all, moving toward the food line with deliberate calm. The serving witch—a plump woman who usually smiled—froze when she saw him.
*"S-Stew today, dear,"* she stammered, her ladle shaking.
*"Thank you,"* Ethan said, taking the bowl.
Her eyes widened at his politeness.
As he turned, the crowd **parted** like frightened sheep. A first-year girl actually yelped when he passed too close.
Ethan exhaled through his nose and chose an empty table near the back.
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Three tables over, a group of third-years spoke just loud enough to carry:
*"Liora von Eldric did it again,"* said a lanky boy with emerald-trimmed robes. *"Another flawless **Level 2 Mana Potion**."*
*"Bullshit,"* scoffed a girl with silver-streaked hair. *"That's third-year curriculum!"*
*"True story,"* rumbled a broad-shouldered senior. *"Professor Helix confirmed it. She's the youngest in a century to master it."*
Ethan sipped his water, filing away the information.
**Liora von Eldric. Alchemy prodigy. Possible threat.**
A first-year nearby whispered, *"I heard she's being groomed for the Imperial Alchemist seat!"*
His friend gasped. *"At seventeen?!"*
Ethan's fingers tightened around his spoon.
*"Interesting."*
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Then—**the cafeteria doors slammed open.**
Every head turned.
Every voice died.
**Lirien Veyne stood in the doorway.**
The whispers came instantly, frantic and hushed:
*"Oh gods, it's her—"*
*"Why is she here? She never eats with us—"*
*"She's looking for *him*—"*
Lirien's silver eyes swept the room like a blade scraping over stone. Students **flinched** under her gaze. Even the seniors straightened their postures.
Then she moved—gliding between tables with lethal grace, her midnight-blue robes whispering against the floor.
Straight toward **Ethan.**
The cafeteria held its breath.
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Lirien stopped across from Ethan's table. Without asking, she took a seat, folding her hands atop the polished oak.
*"Enjoying your meal?"* she asked, her voice like poisoned honey.
Ethan didn't look up. *"It's stew."*
*"Ah, but it's *lonely* stew,"* she mused. *"No friends? No admirers? After that *spectacular* display today?"*
A muscle twitched in Ethan's jaw. *"What do you want, Lirien?"*
A collective gasp rippled through the room. **No one used her first name so casually.**
Lirien's smile sharpened. *"Straight to the point. I like that."* She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper only he could hear. *"Tell me, Ethan Gale—was it worth it? Humiliating my brother? Making an enemy of House Veyne?"*
Ethan finally met her gaze. *"Yes."*
For a heartbeat, something **dark** flickered in Lirien's eyes. Then she laughed—a sound like shattering glass. *"Good. I'd hate to think you *regretted* it already."*
She stood, her robes swirling. *"Sleep lightly tonight. Dreams can be so… *unpredictable*."*
Then she was gone, leaving behind the scent of frost and something metallic—**blood or iron, maybe both.**
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The cafeteria remained **eerily silent** for a full minute after Lirien left.
Then, like a dam breaking:
*"Did he just—"*
*"No one talks to *her* like that—"*
*"He's *dead*—"*
Ethan finished his stew, stood, and walked out—the crowd parting before him once more.
As he passed the entrance, he caught a glimpse of a small first-year boy staring at him **not with fear, but with awe.**
The boy quickly looked away when Ethan noticed.
Ethan smirked.
*"Interesting."*
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