Everyone's staring.
It's only natural, I guess. I'd stare too if I saw someone eating like a man possessed. The amount of food disappearing into one's body would make anyone turn their head, especially if that body was built like a matchstick.
Fork, chew, swallow, repeat.
Some look disgusted. Others amazed. How? Probably in everyone's mind.
But me? I don't care. I don't give a shit about them. I just wanted to eat. Ignoring everything.
At first, I thought the food would be strange. Grilled skewer. Steak. Egg Omelet. Steaming bowls of noodles and meat swimming in broth thick enough to baptize my soul. Made from god knows what. But whatever, I'll still eat it. Everything tastes like I haven't had food in years.
Plates pile up in front of me.
"Delicioso!" I mumble through a mouthful with tears in my eyes. It's not even an exaggeration. I actually mean it. It was just that good. Because for the first time, something finally tastes like I'm alive. Not the bland hospital food. Not the flavorless soup or porridge. But this... a food with flavor!
Of course. This wasn't free.
The only reason this body was still around here. The leftover benefits of noble blood.
First and foremost, this was a knight's academy. Or a glorified boot camp. They say it's about honor and discipline, but in reality, it's just a training ground for turning teenagers into weapons. Oh, not teenagers, but adults, by this world's standard.
They've got a system here.
It wasn't just the knight division. Everyone here, no exception.
They call it sponsorship.
Every student's name gets carved into a ledger. A neat little list of who's worth what. Age, aptitude, element, etc. You're not a student here. You're an asset. Where the rich bid for what's your worth. Whether you are smart, strong, or useless, they dictate whether you will be of use.
They call it investment.
You want to train? You want food and decent gear? You get a sponsor. And sponsors don't help. They own. You pay them back in loyalty, obedience, or whatever else they demand when the bill comes due.
Some names glow gold. They're the academy's prodigies. The ones with family crests and spotless futures.
The rest? All waiting for someone rich enough, desperate enough, or cruel enough to bet on them.
Money isn't just metal or paper. It's a weapon. A contract. A god.
I'm pretty sure this body's brother was loaded. He's probably got more zeroes in his allowance than most people see in a year. The kind of luxury that buys silence, status, and a private dorm with a view.
What about Claude? Not so much.
What he gets every month was decent. Not noble-level decent, more like a merchant's son decent, and that felt like a stretch. Enough to keep himself fed, clothed, and not smelling like he crawled out of the gutters. Just enough to survive, not enough to matter really.
More of a charity. Courtesy of this body's family. Not out of love. Simply out of obligation. Some accountant probably ticked a box on a form and called it charity. Just another name on their ledger, filed under maintenance expense.
Given the amount I spent on food today, I would probably need to skip a meal or three. Worth it, I guess. My future me will handle that.
"That's some impressive appetite you got there." Someone said next to me.
You can tell he's a noble the moment you see him. It's not the face... though he's got that, too. More so, he carried himself like one.
Copper hair, long enough to brush his waist. A well-built frame that speaks of discipline and training. A scar sitting at the edge of his mouth, giving his polished appearance an edge.
I took a glance at his wrist. Silver bracelet.
He's a knight. He stank like one, too. Plus, the uniform gave it away. Formal suit, crisp shirt, tie. Shorter coat. Reinforced seams. Belts fitted to hold weapons. In contrast, the research division wears something similar, but theirs was stiffer. Longer coats, stitched insignias sewn on the sleeves, representing the rank and academic field.
Then there were the bracelets.
Everyone had one. Even me.
You can tell what someone's worth just by the glint on their wrist. Like cattle tags, but prettier.
Everyone's got a classification.
We have the Obsidian Class. That's me. It's the class for the manaless. They wear dull, matte black bands. We don't fight. We just study.
The Cinder Class. They wear scorched bronze bracelets. It's a mixed bag of everyone. Truth is, in most cases, they're just failed knights.
Crescent Class. Now this is the majority of the Knight's division. Silver bands, polished clean, with faint runes etched around them. They're perfect for the knight division. They get swords, armor, and titles.
Then there's the Eclipse Class.
The top one percent. The untouchables.
Their bands are deep violet, threaded with gold.
When they walk by, the air bends. You don't look at them; you look around them, like they're too bright to stare at. Adelle Fabien. Shin Morino. Two of the familiar names are in that class.
Obsidian. Cinder. Crescent. Eclipse.
That's the order. That's the chain.
The purpose of it? No clue.
"Where is it all going?" He dropped his tray beside mine like we'd known each other for years. "You probably had an extra stomach there."
Who the hell is this guy?
Nothing clicked inside my head.
Why is he sitting next to me?
He didn't know me. I didn't know him.
But he smiled anyway, stuck a hand out. "Name's Gareth Halvgen. Nice to meet you."
I shook it out of reflex. "Likewise. I'm Ak—Claude." The name slipped out before the real one did.
Halvgen...
Halvgen...
His family doesn't ring a bell.
Looking around, there was a lot of free space, like whole tables empty, so why the hell did he have to sit next to me? "You just got out of your training?" I asked.
"Pretty much." He scooped a spoonful of food and shoved it down. "How about you?"
"Me?" I pointed the knife at myself.
"Yeah." He glanced up, curiosity written all over his face.
"Nothing much. Just woke up." I replied.
"Eh. I thought you just got out of training with the amount you have."
Then I raised my left hand, showcasing the dull black band on my wrist.
I laughed. "What part of me screamed, yeah, this guy is one of us?" Then gestured at myself, "Look here. I'm one breeze away from being sent flying across the continent."
He snorted mid-bite, then choked. "Pfft—Akh!" He started hitting his chest.
"Easy there." I leaned over and slapped his back a few times. It felt like tapping on steel. Guy was built like he snorts protein powder.
"You okay?" I asked.
He coughed out the last of it and wheezed between breaths. "Yeah—yeah, I'm good." He then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Didn't expect that one," He said. "But you're eating like that? What are you?"
"Just hungry, man" I said, shrugging my shoulders.
He looked me up and down with disbelief written all over his face. "Seriously, man, where does it all go?"
He was starting to get on my nerves.
"Metabolism," I said, stabbing another bite.
"Meta—bo?" He blinked, still processing it, still looking at me like I was some scientific anomaly. For a guy built like he snorted protein powder for breakfast, I must've looked like a dying corpse.
"Guess that's impressive," He said finally.
"Guess so," I said.
Silence settled in nicely afterward. The background noise faded. The forks scraping, voices murmuring, a laugh too loud somewhere down the hall. All of it felt far away. Neither of us said a word. Just that quiet pull between us, like we were testing who'd blink first.
"I really hate doing things like this," He said finally, scratching the back of his neck. "Not really the type of guy who probes into other people's affairs."
"By the way," He added, saying it casually. "He said, go to classes and stop being childish, you no-go—Well, I forgot the rest, you can just fill the rest."
We exchanged glances.
He stood up without a word. Then patted my shoulder as he passed. It was a solid hit. At a glance, it looked friendly on the surface, but there's something underneath it. Like he's saying, just listen and obey, without bothering to explain what would happen.
Then came the big smile, showing all his teeth. "That's all. Nice meeting you. Mr. Claude."
I matched it, because that's what you need to do. "You too. Mr. Gareth."
"Such an uptight person," He said over his shoulder, walking away.
Was he saying that to me?
Silence filled the space he left behind.
Haven't been going to classes?
What day is it, even?
"Man, I just wanted to eat first…" I muttered under my breath, staring at the untouched tray. Then I stuffed a mouthful into my mouth.
After everything that went down. Getting yanked into a video game. The freak show of an anomaly breathing down my neck. The thing. I just wanted five minutes of peace and a plate.
Let me eat in peace.
Just me, a fork, and my food.
Let me pretend everything was normal.