4. We're Dating.

She took my hand and led me to the dining hall.

Given how much she hated dealing with people's stares, I'd assumed she wouldn't like a place like this—so I was a little surprised she'd brought me here so boldly from the start.

The academy was vast enough that it had all kinds of dining halls, and the one she'd chosen was a quiet spot up north.

"Go in ahead."

"Oh… sure."

I stumbled over my words again.

I stepped inside to find a few students already gathered, chatting among themselves. I'd barely ever come to the north dining hall during the semester, so I had almost no idea what was on the menu.

For now, I went with the beef steak—the one thing I vaguely remembered being good.

*Elline, though…*

She'd figure out her own order, wouldn't she?

Better to just buy my own than pick something wrong and get an earful for it.

Actually, wait—

Should I get hers too?

Hmm… Back in the library, when Ross was reading that dating advice book, I'd spent a good while making fun of him.

I should've read it with him.

I was starting to regret that.

It hadn't fully sunk in yet, but maybe it was because we were a couple now—every single little decision was starting to feel loaded.

"Fine."

I ended up ordering two.

If she said she didn't want it, I'd just eat it myself.

I scanned the dining hall, looking for a good seat.

Elline always preferred spots away from people, so a table by the window caught my eye—just right.

*That one.*

No sooner had I settled on it than a booming voice rang out from the counter, and when I turned, two generous servings of beef steak were waiting for me. The juices pooling over the well-seared meat, paired with the rich, savory sauce—it looked delicious even before the first bite.

Academy food always managed to look appetizing, no matter when you saw it.

I carried the plates over to the spot I'd picked and sat down.

I didn't start eating.

Waiting to eat together was the most basic courtesy there was.

"…"

Actually, now that I thought about it, maybe just ordering ahead was the wrong move?

Right—I should've just sat down and waited.

*Idiot.*

I wouldn't normally make a mistake like this, but I kept slipping up. Think normally, Rutess. Please.

While I was lightly pulling at my own hair, the chair across from me scraped back with a loud drag.

Elline?

"Oh, sorry. I went ahead and ordered—"

It wasn't silver hair.

"Hey there, Rutess."

A male student with golden hair. A shade brighter than Ross's—almost aggressively so.

"Ugh…"

Beron.

Beron Lucian.

He settled into the chair across from me with an easy, unhurried air, and the moment I saw his face, my appetite vanished as if it had never existed.

If there was a talent for it, his was this: every single movement he made felt unpleasant.

"What brings you here?"

Beron tossed the question out with that slick, self-satisfied tone of his.

"Came to eat. Is that so unusual?"

He was the second son of House Lucian, a third-year at the same academy—and someone I had no particular fondness for.

Whenever I looked at that signature greasy expression of his, I felt vaguely nauseated.

"Oh? Two steaks. Big appetite, huh?"

"We're not close enough to be keeping tabs on each other, are we?"

He let out a low chuckle.

"Ah, sorry. I just can't help sticking my nose in."

Can't help it, he says.

Right. Absolutely can't help it.

Completely unnecessarily.

More accurately, he was probably dying to show himself off. The insignia pinned to his shoulder was so ostentatious it was almost painful to look at.

"Hm? Ah, so you noticed."

Who wouldn't notice, when you've hung it there like a sign that says *look at me*?

"Well, as you can see—I've been promoted to Alpha Class."

I know.

"Yeah. Impressive."

I said it flatly, and his eyebrow gave the faintest twitch.

"You're not even trying to hide the jealousy."

"Yeah, I'm jealous. Very."

I shot back again, and he ran a hand through his hair.

Until just last year, we'd both been in Beta Class—but he'd always carried on about how he was destined for Alpha, how he was a cut above the rest.

For two years.

The whole time.

So even when we were in the same Beta Class, he'd always looked down on everyone around him.

And now that he'd finally made it, of course he had to rub it in.

"I told you, didn't I? You and I are different breeds."

Are we plants?

"Yeah, congratulations."

I'd congratulated him and admitted I was jealous—he could leave now.

"Rutess."

"What."

"Don't you think you owe me an apology?"

The ease in his voice was giving way to something else now—a slow creep of contempt.

"…?"

"You were always like that. Picking apart everything I said, pushing back every single time."

…Was I? Thinking about it, maybe so.

He and I were both in the support branch.

Well, technically he'd transferred in during second year, but—

Anyway, what I'd gathered from sitting through the same theory lectures as him was that he had an absurdly inflated standard.

*If you were in Alpha Class, you wouldn't do it that way…*

*That's exactly why you'll never make it to Alpha Class…*

With that kind of commentary tacked onto everything, how could there not be friction?

And it wasn't just me—he'd clashed with plenty of other students too, I was pretty sure.

He might have been technically correct in theory, but how do you expect ordinary sparrows to fly like phoenixes?

So even when things went well, he complained—and whenever his own performance fell short, he blamed everyone else.

"I was just offering adjustments."

As in: dial it back a little, lower your expectations just a notch.