The waitress jotted the order with a practiced smile before slipping out of the private cabin. The faint click of the door shutting left the three of them in the warm, dim glow of the room's amber lights.
For a few moments, they chatted idly, the hum of laughter bouncing off the soundproofed walls.
Soon, the door opened again. A small procession of waiters entered, each carrying trays laden with plates and bottles. Aromas rolled in like a wave—roasted meats rich with herbs, steaming bowls of spiced vegetables, fresh bread glistening with melted butter. And in the center, bottles of wine and liquor that shimmered like liquid gold under the light.
Kaelen picked up his fork and knife, carving into a slice of roasted lamb. The first bite made his eyes widen.
"By the stars… this is so good." His voice carried genuine surprise.
Banlett and Wester wasted no time following suit.
Banlett gave a satisfied grunt. "You weren't exaggerating."
Wester nodded, already reaching for the next dish. "This is better than the food I had at the Royal Fair last year."
Banlett's gaze landed on a dark glass bottle with a gilded label—Golden Ember Malbec. "Now this," he said, holding it up, "is the real treasure."
He poured the deep ruby liquid into three crystal glasses. The scent of aged oak and berries rose instantly, rich and intoxicating. They raised their glasses together.
"To good food," Kaelen said.
"To good drink," Wester added.
"And to good friends," Banlett finished.
The crystal chimed softly as they clinked, then all three drank deeply. A warm burn slid down Kaelen's throat, blooming in his chest.
"Ahhh…" Banlett sighed, shaking his head with delight. "That's fantastic."
They kept eating and drinking, hopping from one bottle to the next—smoky whiskey, sweet plum wine, something electric-blue that tingled on the tongue. Laughter became easier, smiles wider.
Kaelen leaned back in his chair, watching the scene through a comfortable haze. "Maybe being a background character isn't so bad…" He thought.
"No destiny weighing on my shoulders, no world to save, no ancient prophecy to fulfill. Just food, drink, and people you can trust. I could get used to this."
The hours slipped by unnoticed. The window outside had turned a deep orange as evening set in. Banlett and Wester, far less sober than when they'd arrived, were now the louder half of the group.
Suddenly, Wester snatched an empty bottle from the table, holding it like a microphone. His face went deadly serious.
"Ahem… ladies and gentlemen," he said, then burst into an off-key ballad.
Banlett howled with laughter and grabbed another bottle to join him. Kaelen, grinning helplessly, picked one up too.
They sang, if it could be called singing, loud and unrestrained, but the cabin's thick walls swallowed the noise. No disapproving glares, no annoyed knocks on the door, just the three of them, their voices blending into the raucous joy of the moment.
In the middle of their chaotic chorus, Kaelen felt a strange warmth—not from the alcohol, but from the realization that this was the kind of life he'd always wanted.
Not heroic. Not legendary.
Just… his.
Kaelen was deep in the haze of drink, cheeks flushed, the world pleasantly warm and spinning just a little. Wester had just finished belting out another horribly off-key verse when a knock came at the door.
"Come in!" Wester called over his shoulder, voice slurred but cheerful.
The door eased open, and in stepped a girl wearing a neat brown apron over a crisp white dress. Balanced in her hands was a tray carrying three steaming bowls of corn soup.
She walked toward the table, the faint scent of something sweet trailing behind her. On her head, a pair of soft fox-like ears twitched slightly. Her skin was pale as polished jade, her violet eyes luminous under the soft cabin light.
Just as she was about to set down the tray of steaming bowls of corn soup. Kaelen smiling and a little too slow from the drink, turned at the wrong moment.
They collided.
The tray jolted in her hands, and the bowls tipped in unison.
A rush of golden soup arced through the air before splattering down his chest and shoulders, soaking his uniform and dripping into his hair.
The rich, buttery scent filled the cabin instantly. For a heartbeat, no one moved—Kaelen stood there like a statue, soup sliding down his cheek in warm rivulets. The smile wiped clean from his face.
The singing stopped.
Her ears drooped instantly, the picture of distress. "I-I'm so sorry, sir! It's my fault—I wasn't paying attention!" Her voice trembled, sweet like honey yet tangled with panic.
Before Kaelen could even process what had happened, she had already slipped a spotless white handkerchief from the pocket of her apron.
Without a hint of hesitation, she closed the distance between them, her delicate hands moving in quick, careful motions as she dabbed at his face and chest.
The soft fabric carried the faint scent of lavender, and every touch left a lingering warmth that seemed to seep beneath his skin. For a fleeting heartbeat, he forgot entirely about the soup dripping down his clothes—caught instead by the nearness of her, the gentleness in her hands, and the flicker of worry in her violet eyes.
And then… something clicked.
"No way."
His heart skipped a beat, the alcohol's fog shattering.
"Eveline Monroe. The female protagonist."
"What the hell is she doing here? This scene… this wasn't supposed to happen!"
Realizing just how close she had leaned in, Eveline froze. A faint gasp escaped her lips before she quickly stepped back, her ears twitching as if to hide her fluster. Color bloomed across her pale cheeks, deepening to a warm rose that reached the tips of her fox-like ears.
She averted her gaze, clutching the handkerchief as if it could shield her from the moment, the embarrassed tremor in her voice barely audible when she murmured, "I… I didn't mean to—"
Eveline's violet gaze met his for a heartbeat too long before flicking down to the black coat, black shirt, and crisp red tie he wore. Her eyes shifted toward Banlett and Wester, noting they wore the same.
"Are you from Crimson Vale Institute as well?" she asked softly.
The room stilled. Wester and Banlett exchanged a glance, their drunken mirth replaced by dawning recognition.
Wester jabbed Banlett with an elbow, whispering, "Why do I feel like I've seen her before?"
Banlett squinted, fighting the blur in his vision. "If I'm not wrong… she's Eveline Monroe. Got into the Institute on a scholarship…"
Kaelen's mind was already spiraling.
"Fate… you've got to be kidding me!"
Forcing a polite smile, he gave a small wave. "Yeah, we're from Crimson Vale Institute. And don't worry about it—it was my fault. I should be the one apologizing."
His voice was light, but inside he was screaming to end the conversation before the universe decided to toy with him further. The last thing he wanted was to meddle with the main cast. He knew all too well about the damned butterfly effect.
Eveline's lips curved into a gentle smile. "I'm a Crimson Vale student too. I work part-time here."
"Great. Just great."
Kaelen took a step toward the washroom to clean himself up, only for his right foot to skid on the soup-soaked floor. His stomach lurched.
In the same instant, Eveline moved. Her hand shot out, wrapping firmly around his waist, while her other hand caught his arm. The sudden closeness froze them both.
Time seemed to slow.
Her violet eyes widened in surprise at her own reflex. His mind went blank, the scent of corn soup mixing oddly with the faint jasmine fragrance clinging to her.
Across the room, Banlett and Wester stared, mouths agape, as if they'd just witnessed the final scene of some romantic drama.
"What the hell is wrong with my luck today?!" Kaelen screamed internally.
Eveline steadied him until he was back on his feet. Kaelen let out a small breath and nodded. "Thanks."
Both of them were flushed, whether from the awkward closeness or the heat of the moment, neither could say.
Banlett suddenly stepped forward, his face unusually solemn. He patted Kaelen's shoulder with the weight of a lifelong farewell.
"Kaelen, buddy… we just remembered something urgent. We'll see you tomorrow."
Wester followed right after, mirroring the gesture on Kaelen's other shoulder. "Yeah, sorry we have to leave right now."
Without another word, the two turned and marched out of the cabin. If one looked closely, they might've spotted the suspicious glint of unshed tears in their eyes.
Inside, they were wailing in envy, cursing the cruel gods who had given Kaelen this chance instead of them. But outwardly, they left like noble friends making a selfless sacrifice.
Now, only Kaelen and Eveline remained in the quiet cabin. She tilted her head, her violet eyes full of curiosity.
"Umm… why did your friends leave so suddenly?"
Kaelen's face darkened. "You traitorous bastards…"
Masking his irritation with a faintly puzzled look, he said, "Maybe they had some urgent work. Anyway… where's the washroom?"
Eveline led him out of the cabin, pausing only to ask a nearby waiter to have the mess cleaned. Kaelen trailed behind her, trying not to think about the damp squelch in his shoes.
A short walk later, she stopped in front of a polished wooden door and pointed. "There. The washroom."
Kaelen gave a curt nod before stepping inside and locking the door behind him.
The mirror reflected a man with wet hair clinging to his forehead and a faintly bitter smile tugging at his lips.
Floating lazily into view, Kitsu appeared at his side, its small azure orb-like body glowing with a soft, muted light.
"Master," it said, voice brimming with amusement. "Don't you think that was… thrilling? We could've made a short movie out of that! A rare historic scene! Many have seen the hero save the beauty, but you…"
Kitsu's single eye gleamed mischievously. "…were saved by the beauty. And held in her arms, no less!"
Kaelen let out a long sigh. "Kitsu… stop making fun of me and just get me a new uniform."
With a little hum, Kitsu floated back, scanning him from head to toe before producing a fresh set of the Crimson Vale uniform from its spatial storage. Turning its back politely, it waited while Kaelen peeled off his soaked coat and shirt.
He splashed water over his face, rinsed the corn soup from his snow-white hair, then toweled himself dry. Fresh clothes slid over his frame with familiar crispness. In the mirror, he caught his own reflection and gave a small, satisfied nod.
"Much better. Still… I'll need a proper shower once I'm back at the Institute."
A thought struck him. His eyes narrowed toward Kitsu. "…You didn't happen to record that scene, did you?"
Kitsu's glow flickered like a child caught with candy. "Umm… yes? I mean, purely for fun! But how did you guess?"
Kaelen waved his hand sharply. "We'll discuss it back at the dormitory. For now, hide yourself."
Stepping out of the washroom, he spotted Eveline leaning against the wall, idly twirling a strand of hair around her finger, lost in thought.
He walked up with a faint, forced smile. "Why are you still here?"
Startled, Eveline straightened, her violet eyes blinking back into focus. "Oh—I was waiting to see if you were alright." Her gaze swept over him from head to toe, noting he looked perfectly fine now.
They exchanged polite goodbyes, and Kaelen was ready to make his escape, he had no desire to prolong his interaction with the female lead.
But Eveline tilted her head, her voice carrying that innocent charm. "My work for today is finished. I'm also heading out… Shall we go together? You're probably going back to the Institute, right?"
Kaelen hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod. "Just this once," he told himself. He waited outside the Brass Lantern Café until, after a short while, Eveline emerged in her crisp white uniform, a small flower clip tucked neatly into her hair.
"Sorry for keeping you waiting," she said with an apologetic smile.
"No worries. Let's go," Kaelen replied. They walked to the parking area, where he paused. "Where's your flying bike?"