"Alright."
Hel agreed readily. She was quite curious about the little restaurant Mortia mentioned—how exactly it could satisfy her palate.
And more importantly…
Her dorm truly had no ingredients left.
So Hel and the others followed Mortia onto the campus shuttle bus. After two stops, they arrived at the faculty residential district.
Unlike the student dormitories, the faculty housing was an entirely different scene.
There were no long rows of tall buildings here.
Instead, there were neat lines of two-story apartments, and each teacher was allotted an entire building.
And on the ground floors of these apartments, almost every unit had been converted into a shop.
General stores.
Clothing boutiques.
Cafés and small restaurants.
"The majority of Skoll Academy's teachers have families," Mortia explained, gesturing toward the bustling storefronts.
"But the academy is simply too large—its area rivals that of a small city.
"So the teachers' family members often start little businesses here.
"Since they're directly using the apartments provided by the school, they save a huge amount on rent.
"And because they don't have to pay taxes within the academy…
"Over time, this place naturally developed into a lively commercial street."
Hel stared at the overly busy road, confusion flickering across her face.
"So… doesn't it get too noisy? Wouldn't this affect the teachers' rest?"
"Oh, it definitely affects them," Mortia replied casually.
"But for Skoll Academy's faculty, this is basically just a place to sleep.
"Oh—actually, maybe it doesn't even qualify as that.
"Most of the time, the teachers would rather live in their laboratories.
"So this area isn't really meant to house the teachers…
"It's meant to house their families."
Hel's eye twitched.
Good grief… were they really that obsessed with pushing themselves?
So everyone here was practically gambling their lives just to break through.
Hel had expected Skoll Academy to be intense—
But today, she truly felt it on a deeper level.
Thankfully, she had no intention of walking the path of bloodline modification.
She had no need to join their endless grind.
After wandering down the street for a bit, the three of them stopped in front of a small restaurant.
"I wonder if you can get used to northern cuisine," Mortia said, pointing at the signboard above the door.
The script was slightly different from what was common on the southern continent.
"I heard both junior and little sister are from the Knight Empire.
"And this place serves quite authentic northern Knight cuisine."
"Northern cuisine?" Hel echoed.
"What's the difference between that and regular Knight food?"
In Hel's memory, during her first few days after transmigrating, she had eaten the most standard Knight Empire meals:
Thick soup with bread.
A half-cooked roast of some kind.
And drinks like locally produced mead or sweet fruit wine.
She had never even realized the Knight Empire had something called a "northern cuisine."
She'd assumed everyone ate more or less the same.
"There is a difference," Motia replied patiently, seeing their puzzled expressions.
"Knight northern cuisine… is less 'northern' and more 'Holy Court' cuisine.
"Oh, right—you may not know this.
"North of the Knight Empire and the Magic Empire, there exists an even larger and more powerful empire.
"It is the sacred land of all transcendents…
"And the true headquarters of the Church.
"That place is the Holy Court."
She continued calmly.
"In the Soul Nation, the Nation of Humility, and certain northern cities of the Knight Empire…
"Holy Court culture and dietary customs are widespread.
"It's like a kind of imitation of the strong.
"People of the empires cannot easily travel to the Holy Court to study or live.
"So they yearn for everything there.
"They endlessly imitate them…
"And dream that one day, they will be accepted."
Her voice cooled slightly.
"But what they don't realize…
"Is that with the pride of the Holy Court…
"They will never be accepted."
At that, Mortia seemed to realize she had spoken too much.
She drew in several deep breaths before quickly adding,
"Sorry, sorry—I got carried away.
"To make up for it, I'll pay for today's meal."
"No," Hel shook her head. "We agreed already."
Mortia had kindly guided them here—Hel couldn't possibly let her foot the bill as well.
Still, Hel now had a rough guess about Mortia's background.
She was likely from the northern regions of the Knight Empire.
But Hel couldn't help wondering…
With Mortia's talent—barely twenty years old and already at the peak of the third tier—
Even in Savant City, she would be considered gifted.
Yet even she couldn't go to the Holy Court to study.
Just how difficult was it to reach that place?
But Mortia had already moved past the topic.
She took Hel's hand, pushed open the restaurant door, and urged eagerly:
"Come, come, come—there's still one seat left.
"I'm telling you, this place is usually packed.
"Today we got lucky, thanks to you two little ones.
"If I came on my own, I'd probably have to squat outside to eat."
Is it really that exaggerated? Hel muttered inwardly.
Still, she took Zephyra's small hand and walked in.
The moment they entered, a rich cheese aroma flooded her senses.
But when the dishes finally arrived…
Hel felt it wasn't all that different from Knight Empire food.
A bowl of beetroot soup.
A plate of bread with caviar.
A pot of beef stew.
Several red sausages.
And a drink—low-alcohol bread wine, sweet enough that it almost tasted like soda.
It wasn't exactly stunning…
But for Hel, it was at least edible.
No dark cuisine, at the very least.
Zephyra and Niv, however, ate happily, clearly enjoying it.
Hel finished her meal in just a few bites.
She pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at the corner of her mouth—
When, not far away, two newly seated upperclassmen began chatting loudly, without any restraint.
One wore a bright pink suit, flamboyant to the point of absurdity.
The other was much plainer, dressed in a simple black suit.
He also wore a black conical top hat popular in the Ymir Empire—
Though Hel couldn't help thinking it looked suspiciously like the kind of hat worn by capitalists back home.
The man in pink swept his gaze around. Seeing no one paying attention, he leaned toward his companion and lowered his voice.
"Have you heard?
"Three countries west of the Scholars' Nation have been completely crushed.
"And now a massive wave of refugees is pouring toward us…"