Because it was the weekend and many students had gone out, the cafeteria at the Academy was noticeably quieter than usual.
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A Course ✧ Tenderloin steak with creamed spinach (+5 Tilon surcharge)
B Course ✧ Lobster and buttered scallops (+3 Tilon surcharge)
C Course ✧ Oil pasta (+1 Tilon surcharge)
Today’s Special ✧ Ham & cheese sandwich
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Adrian had arrived at the cafeteria before Mikhail and was checking the menu. The person he encountered at the entrance seemed to be someone the prince knew, but it didn’t feel like a casual greeting—definitely not the kind of encounter that would end with a simple hello.
He was just debating whether to wait or go ahead and order when—
“A course.”
The voice was flat, focused purely on conveying the order. Adrian, now used to that curt tone, kept his gaze on the menu as he responded.
“…What, why’d you get here so fast? You looked like you were gonna be talking for a while.”
“Just hurry up and order.”
“….”
Adrian stared momentarily at the ever-brazen prince—who had no shame in freeloading—then handed his order slip to the cafeteria staff.
For some reason, he had a craving for butter today. By the time Adrian ordered both the A and B courses, Mikhail was still standing beside him with his arms crossed.
“If you’re in such a rush, why don’t you go grab a seat?”
Adrian spoke with a touch of disbelief, but the prince didn’t even acknowledge it. There was plenty of space to sit, anyway.
The two of them settled at a table. Adrian leaned his elbow on the surface, eyes fixed on Mikhail. His expression was unusual—he looked like he was deep in thought, which was enough to catch Adrian’s attention.
“…What’s with the grump face? What’d that guy say to you just now?”
So that was it. Mikhail tilted his head, a signature arrogant smile tugging at his lips.
“Curious?”
“…Not really.”
Adrian had absolutely no desire to get involved in the prince’s personal life. To emphasize his disinterest, he brought the pre-meal water glass—set down by a staff member—to his lips and chose silence.
But the prince, of course, had no intention of respecting that boundary.
“He said, ‘You might want to be more careful about the friends you make—’ or something along those lines.”
The prince’s crimson eyes stood out sharply from across the table. They were watchful—evaluating.
Every time Adrian looked straight into those eyes, a certain person would come to mind, and it made him inwardly break out in a cold sweat.
After all, he was still hiding the reason under his bed: the fact that he couldn’t stay at Basamiel Academy for more than a year due to a concealed expulsion clause.
“What do you think?”
The prince’s gaze felt searing, like he was probing for a reaction. Adrian reluctantly set down the water glass with a light clink and opened his mouth.
“…Really? Sounds like decent advice to me.”
“It’s a presumptuous intrusion.”
Mikhail’s voice was sharp and cold.
“And I didn’t come to Basamiel just to make friends.”
Hmph. Adrian raised an eyebrow and rested his chin on one hand.
“Well, guess we see things differently. I’m more of the mindset that the more friends you have, the better.”
“Liar.”
The prince’s curt reply made Adrian’s eyes flash for a moment.
“Liar?”
Adrian gave a sheepish expression.
“You’ve got no interest in making friends either.”
“…I don’t think I ever actually said that, did I?”
“Anyone sharing a room with royalty yet never bowing, never joining outings with the other students, and always holed up in the Academy’s greenhouse—it’s obvious without needing to say a word.”
“…”
Adrian couldn’t offer a single rebuttal and simply wore a sour expression. He was too busy reflecting on how sloppily he must have acted for a brat like that to catch on. A heavy silence settled over their table.
Clatter. A server arrived, the soft scrape of the tray wheels accompanying him. When he lifted a plate of steak from the tray, Adrian gestured across the table with a polite smile. The server gave a slight bow and smoothly placed the steak and scallops in front of each of them.
Just as Adrian and Mikhail picked up their utensils—
“Hello, students of Basamiel Academy. The fun weekend is already coming to a close.”
From the ceiling in the corridor connected to the cafeteria, a now-familiar voice rang out through the speakers. It was Pinyata.
“We’ve got a special message this Sunday afternoon for those of you still here at the Academy. This one was submitted by Cameron Harris. As you know, there’s a fee for submitting content to the school broadcast, but it looks like being a noble really does come with deep pockets. Thanks for the tip-off, Cameron. Oh? This one’s about a party to celebrate the new recruits of the Hounds?”
Adrian casually sliced through his food with graceful movements of his fork and knife. Parties weren’t his concern in the slightest.
Mikhail seemed to feel the same. The prince cut his steak with a cold, methodical expression, thinking, So that’s what that conversation was about.
Parties were a dime a dozen back at the royal palace. He remembered them only as dull events he was forced to attend.
The other Academy students, though, probably didn’t see it that way.
Outside of situations like this—when they were all gathered at Basamiel—no one would ever dream of meeting a royal at a casual birthday party held in a modest banquet hall. It was clear they wanted to milk the opportunity for all it was worth.
While Adrian and Mikhail couldn’t have cared less, some of the students nearby nodded along as they listened to the announcement. For many, attending such parties was one of the few perks—and highlights—of going to Basamiel. The Academy openly encouraged socialization among the wealthy and elite, after all.
“Anyway, that was the scoop on the celebration hosted by Cameron Harris. It’s set to take place in the Academy’s banquet hall just before exam season. For more details, check the school paper.”
A few students shot glances toward the table where Adrian and Mikhail sat. They were pointing at sections of a large sheet of paper—presumably the school newspaper—as they read it.
Adrian tilted his head slightly, as though something in Pinyata’s announcement had stuck with him. He casually sliced through the pale flesh of the lobster with his knife, then brought a bite to his mouth and chewed slowly.
“This has been Pinyata, Basamiel’s one and only storyteller. Until next time—when I pop up without warning just like today. See ya!”
Once the broadcast ended, Adrian stopped chewing. He gulped down what was left in his mouth and muttered,
“What kind of school paper publishes that sort of news anyway?”
It must’ve been because this place was crawling with royalty and nobles. Gossip probably filled every column. Apparently, even the broadcast wasn’t enough on its own.
“Bet it’s full of useless crap.”
“…You’re not even subscribed to that ‘useless crap,’ though.”
“….”
Mikhail still didn’t have a single Tilon to his name.
Aggravated by the lack of a comeback, Mikhail shot a sidelong glare at Adrian, then cut another piece of steak and chewed it slowly.
Adrian, sitting opposite, remained silent.
Mikhail tried his best to ignore him but finally gave in and grumbled,
“If you want to, just do it. Stop hesitating like that.”
His tone was curt.
Even the prince was curious about the school paper. If it cost 10 Tilon a month, surely it had some value.
“You can just sign up for one month to start.”
“Ten Tilon, huh…”
Adrian frowned, his handsome brows scrunching together.
104 Tilon—that was how much money Adrian currently had.
Even if Tilon was fake currency only valid within the Academy, it was still money.
And a dragon’s blood always ran thick with a few drops of greed for treasure. Even when their hoard overflowed, dragons clung to every coin and gem like it was life itself.
That’s why the hoard Adrian had left behind in his empty Gold Dragon’s lair—abandoned for his time at the Academy—was stacked to the ceiling with all manner of treasures, gold coins, and sparkling jewels.
“…Should I really do it?”
“Do it if you want. I’m curious too.”
“You are? Then why don’t we just have one person subscribe and share it? Why are people subscribing separately?”
“We’ll know once we read it.”
“Alright. I’m signing up today.”
With eyes shining with resolve, Adrian resumed eating.
The students around them were still flipping through the newspaper.
Even if some of them were acquaintances or casual friends, Adrian and Mikhail—whose social circles were practically non-existent—had no one they could borrow a copy from.
