Nevil subtly turned his face away from Ashan and Narasha, leaning closer to Elara as if sharing a secret. Then he gave her a quick, almost mischievous wink.
"Ah… she's a close friend of Ashan," he said in a low voice, though not low enough to completely escape the others' notice. "You know… they were even living together recently."
Elara's eyes widened so much that she nearly dropped her spoon.
"Oh my, is that so?" she exclaimed softly, immediately straightening her posture. A mix of surprise and intrigue flickered across her face as she turned toward Narasha.
She lifted her hand in a friendly wave. "Nice to meet you too."
Narasha, who had been quietly seated beside Ashan, met her gaze with calm composure. There was no visible reaction to Nevil's teasing revelation. Her voice remained steady, smooth, and unhurried.
"Nice to meet you."
Her tone was gentle but reserved, neither overly friendly nor distant, simply balanced.
The moment Nevil's words registered fully, Zevi slowly turned his head toward Ashan. His eyes sharpened.
"Hey… hey," Zevi said, narrowing his gaze suspiciously. "You didn't tell me that she used to live with you."
Ashan froze for half a heartbeat. Then he offered a slightly awkward smile, scratching his cheek as if caught in something trivial.
He didn't deny it. He didn't confirm it either.
That silent reaction alone was enough to make Zevi squint even more.
Elara, however, seemed fascinated rather than concerned. She leaned forward slightly, studying Ashan with curiosity.
"Wait… aren't you the one who broke the academy's highest breath-holding record?" she asked, eyes sparkling. "I heard about it from the girls around me. They couldn't stop talking about it. They said it was unbelievable. And you seem really popular lately."
Zevi immediately seized the topic.
"Popular?" he scoffed lightly, then grinned. "That's an understatement. This guy's stamina and endurance are ridiculous. Every time we spar, he doesn't fail to amaze me."
He leaned back in his chair, gesturing animatedly.
"I swear, sometimes it feels like he's trying to kill me. His sword techniques are sharp, clean, calculated, and way too refined for someone our age."
Ashan quickly realized the direction of the praise and gently shifted the spotlight.
"You know," he said, turning toward Nevil, "I first learned the sword from him."
Nevil blinked in surprise.
"What?"
Ashan nodded calmly. "Nevil taught me the fundamentals. His sword technique became my foundation. Later, we both developed it further; reducing openings, refining transitions. What I use now isn't just mine."
Zevi immediately caught on to Ashan's intention.
"Woah, seriously?" he leaned toward Nevil with genuine interest.
"Developing a technique like that takes intelligence and skill."
"Nevil," Zevi added with a grin, "you might be a hidden talent too."
Nevil's ears turned red. He instinctively glanced at Elara, who was looking at him with admiration.
"Haha… no, I'm not as talented as that," Nevil said modestly. "I only managed to improve because Ashan was practicing with me."
Ashan shook his head slightly. "Don't underestimate yourself."
Zevi nodded. "Yeah. I can tell just by looking at.. you've got solid fundamentals."
Elara smiled brightly. "See? I told you you're better than you think."
Nevil looked flustered but pleased.
For a brief moment, the table felt warm and peaceful.
Then,
"Look who we have here."
The voice cut through the air like a blade.
A group of students approached their table. Several girls and a few male students walked with deliberate steps, drawing attention as they came.
At the front stood a black short-haired man with a mocking smile.
Tyron.
He moved forward and stopped directly behind Elara's chair.
Her expression stiffened instantly. The warmth vanished from her face. Without looking at him, she lowered her gaze and continued eating, pretending he wasn't there.
Tyron placed a hand dramatically over his chest.
"Why are you ignoring me, Elara?" he asked in an exaggerated wounded tone. "That hurts, you know."
"I have nothing to do with you, Tyron," she replied without looking up. "Please leave me alone and act like I don't exist."
Tyron's smile turned crooked. Without asking, he pulled a chair and sat down beside her.
"Considering how close we were before," he said casually, leaning back, "how can you tell me to forget you so easily? Didn't we love each other?"
Nevil's hand slammed onto the table with a loud bang.
"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, rising from his seat. His eyes were sharp and wary. "Why are you suddenly coming here to cause a scene?"
Tyron slowly turned his head toward Nevil and studied him.
"Haha… you must be her new boyfriend."
Tyron's lips curled upward in a slow, mocking grin as he looked Nevil up and down, deliberately measuring him.
"Whoever you are, nice to meet you," he continued lazily, leaning back in his chair as if he owned the space. "I'm your girlfriend's ex-boyfriend."
The words were dropped so casually that for a split second they almost sounded harmless.
Elara's fingers tightened around the edge of the table. She turned toward Nevil immediately, her eyes wide and filled with helpless urgency.
"Nevil, don't listen to him," she said quickly, her voice already trembling. "He's lying on purpose. We were never together. Not even once."
Tyron widened his eyes theatrically, placing a hand over his chest as if deeply offended.
"Lying?" he repeated with exaggerated disbelief. "How shameless can you get?"
He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table now, invading her space without hesitation.
"Don't you remember how you used to hang around me? Every day. Asking for favors. Asking for help. Smiling so sweetly." His expression hardened. "And now that you've taken everything you needed from me, you pretend I never existed?"
His tone sharpened.
"Do I look like a joke to you?"
Elara's cheeks flushed red; not from guilt, but from fury.
"Please don't listen to him!" she insisted, her voice rising despite the tremor in it. "It wasn't like that. I was just asking for help from him and his group. I had no other intentions. I swear."
Before Nevil could respond, the sharp click of heels echoed across the cafeteria floor.
A female student stepped forward from the group behind Tyron.
Her long hair, partly dyed a striking shade of red, fell over her shoulders in calculated waves. The bold color matched the hostility burning in her eyes. She didn't rush. She walked slowly, deliberately, savoring the attention.
Her voice dripped with venom.
"So this is where you've been hiding, Elara."
Elara flinched as if struck.
Tyron leaned back again, folding his arms with smug satisfaction.
"Ah, Rianne. Perfect timing. We were just talking about old memories."
Rianne crossed her arms tightly across her chest, tilting her head as she examined Elara from head to toe.
"Memories?" she scoffed. "You mean the way she used you and then pretended like she never knew you?"
Her gaze sharpened.
"Honestly, Elara… you're even more shameless than I remember."
Elara's hands trembled visibly in her lap. Her breathing grew uneven.
"That's not true," she whispered. "None of that is true…"
Rianne clicked her tongue in annoyance.
"Please. I saw you with my own eyes. Clinging to Tyron every single day. Acting pitiful. Acting sweet. Acting like you'd do anything just to secure a place in the party."
Her lip curled in disgust.
"Girls like you disgust me."
Nevil shot to his feet instantly, his chair scraping harshly against the floor.
"Hey!" he snapped. "Don't talk to her like that."
Tyron raised an amused eyebrow.
"Oh? The boyfriend stands up," he said lightly. "How noble."
He turned fully toward Nevil now, his smirk widening.
"But listen, kid… Elara and I go way back. You don't know the things she's done."
Elara's breath hitched sharply. Panic surged up her throat like something suffocating her from the inside.
Ashan, who had remained silent until now, narrowed his eyes slightly. His gaze sharpened; not emotional, not impulsive but observant.
Narasha's brows furrowed faintly, her calm demeanor hardening.
Zevi quietly placed his cup down on the table.
He didn't interrupt.
He watched.
And the irritation growing in his eyes was unmistakable.
Tyron leaned closer to Nevil, lowering his voice just enough to make it feel intimate and poisonous.
"She begged me, you know?" he said with deliberate clarity. "'Please, Tyron, let me into your party.' 'Please, Tyron, I need money.'"
Elara's face crumpled.
"I asked for help… because my mother was sick," she said, tears already forming. "That's all it was. I never.."
Rianne cut her off sharply.
"Oh please. Spare us the sob story again. Everyone's heard it."
She leaned forward slightly, her eyes cold.
"Everyone knows what you were planning to pay with. Don't pretend you weren't throwing yourself at him."
"That's a lie!" Elara shouted, but her voice cracked halfway through the words, betraying her emotional collapse.
Tyron stretched his arm lazily over the back of Elara's chair, deliberately mimicking familiarity.
"Come on, Elara," he said smoothly. "Don't act like you don't remember."
His voice lowered further.
"The late-night talks… the special 'favors'…"
The implication twisted sickly through the air.
Several students nearby stiffened. Whispers began spreading across the cafeteria.
Nevil moved instantly, stepping in front of Elara like a shield.
"You bastard," he growled. "Stop talking like that. She said she's not involved with you. Back off."
Tyron laughed; a slow, condescending laugh.
"You really believe she's pure, don't you?" he mocked. "Cute. Very cute."
Then he reached out and tapped Nevil's cheek lightly with two fingers.
"Let me clarify something for you. She wasn't just asking for help."
His eyes gleamed maliciously.
"She wanted me."
"And I gave her plenty of attention in return."
Rianne folded her arms again, smirking.
"She practically lived at the party base," she added cruelly. "Acting like Tyron's little.."
"Stop."
Elara's voice was barely audible.
It shook violently.
"Please… stop…"
Her hands rose to grip her own shoulders, as if she could physically hold herself together. Tears streamed down her face without restraint. The memory of her mother's hospital bed, the medical bills, the humiliation of having no one else to turn to, it all came crashing back at once.
Nevil's fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Tyron looked at Elara's tears as if they were entertainment.
"See?" he said with satisfaction. "She remembers."
He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand.
"Honestly, Nevil… you should hear what she was like back then."
His grin turned disgusting.
"I mean… we were basically.."
He paused for dramatic effect.
"..sleeping together. Many times."
The cafeteria fell silent.
Completely silent.
Even the distant clatter of utensils stopped.
Elara froze.
Her mind went blank.
Her tears fell soundlessly now.
"I… I never…" she stammered, shaking her head desperately. "THAT NEVER HAPPENED!"
Nevil's face flushed red with uncontrollable rage.
"You…YOU'RE A FUCKING LIAR!"
He lunged forward,
But before he could reach Tyron,
Zevi moved.
Slowly.
Calmly.
He picked up his plate.
Scooped a generous handful of food with his bare hand.
Walked behind Tyron.
And without warning,
SPLAT!
The food smashed directly into Tyron's face.
Rice and sauce slid down his hair and collar.
Gasps echoed across the cafeteria.
Tyron froze in shock.
Zevi dusted his hands lightly and spoke in a flat, cold voice that was completely unlike his usual playful tone. His expression carried pure killing intent.
"How is that, fuckface?" he said quietly. "You need a dirt face to talk dirty."
He stepped closer, eyes dark and unwavering.
"Now the scene is perfect. Go on. Tell me more of your shitty stories."