'I don't mind fighting, but I don't like getting disturbed when eating...' He sighed inwardly, remembering his preference for uninterrupted meals. Lyrian's stomach grumbled in anticipation as he moved forward in the line. He quickly grabbed a tray and surveyed the spread before him.
The mashed potatoes stood out, their creamy mounds practically melting into the tray. He ladled a generous spoonful of thick gravy, the rich aroma wafting up to greet him.
Beside it, golden-fried chicken glistened, promising a satisfying crunch. He couldn't resist adding several pieces to his plate, the skin crackling slightly as he picked it up.
Fresh, vibrant greens greeted him at the salad bar. He assembled a colorful mixture, the crunch of lettuce and burst of cherry tomatoes promising a refreshing contrast.
At the live cooking station, the sizzle of stir-fried noodles filled the air. He watched as the chef expertly tossed them with a medley of vegetables and savory sauces. The aroma of garlic and ginger teased his senses.
The fragrant curries at the international station called out to him. He chose a steaming serving of chicken tikka masala, the creamy sauce clinging to tender chunks of meat.
Desserts beckoned, but he showed some restraint. Unlike the other fresh food items, he knew that sugar was something that could mess up his bodily autonomy, especially as a young kid. He learned this from the several seemingly useless books he read in the library in Illstria. Now, that information served him. A slice of velvety chocolate cake and a bowl of glistening fruit salad made it onto his tray.
Balancing his stacked tray, Lyrian followed Alten to a quiet corner where another person was already sitting in one of the chairs of the hexagonal table. Upon closer inspection, Lyrian saw that it was Leon, who didn't want to wait before enjoying his meal. Lyrian sat down and began to chow down, not thinking of savoring the flavor, like the other two. He just scarfed down the food as fast as possible.
Still, the taste of the food was enough to impress him a lot. In his entire life, he never had such delectable food. That was a given. As he took multiple delicious bites, the needless worries in his mind faded away, replaced by the simple pleasure of savoring each mouthful. Right now, it felt like he was in heaven... food heaven. He hadn't even noticed it, but his eyes were closed. When he opened them again, he saw bewildered expressions on his friends. They were frozen, looking at Lyrian as if he were some sort of silly beast. Alten broke out into a silly chuckle, and Leon shrugged it off and continued to eat.
Taking a deep breath—a short break from the feasting—Lyrian looked around, and to his expectations, saw multiple eyes on him. Of course, most of those eyes darted away as he made contact with them. They were the eyes of curious students, but they were also nervous.
"May Lord Gaia have mercy... I love food, but if I ate like that I would be obese!" Alten joked as he ate, but Lyrian took the statement seriously. "Wok! Yo' gota' puh' in da' wok!" (Work! You gotta put in the work!) He spoke as he ate, not willing to stop his meal for such a puny reason. "Don' be obes', no' goo'" (Don't be obese, no good.) He followed up, taking a large swig of his refreshing cola. At that moment, he noticed that the eyes that were looking at him were no longer doing so. Instead, they all seemed to be pointed in a certain direction.
They were all pointed behind Alten, where the food stations were. Curious, and while still eating, Lyrian stopped hunching over his food and raised his head to look behind Alten.
Alten widened his eyes slightly. "What? Is there something on me?" He said, slightly confused.
Just then, a murmur of quiet whispers began to spread through the nearby crowd, as the noise in the room went down. The canteen was very expansive, over 7500 sq feet in total. Still, most of the noise in the room went down.
What Lyrian saw past Alten's shoulder was a small group of taller kids. They all seemed to be upper-year students—7 in total. As they walked past the tables, their combined presence was prideful and strong. The tables they walked by turned into turtle shells—completely quiet, with everyone caved in and motionless.
The kid who walked in front of them all looked to be the one who stood out the most. His stance was similar to the others but slightly more exaggerated. His chin tilted slightly, higher. His chest stood out a bit more. And he was more carefree and confident than the others.
Curious, Lyrian listened in to some of the tables nearby, which had, of course, completely stopped eating. They seemed to not want to stand out.
"That's Draco's group..." One of the kids whispered very quietly, almost under his breath.
"He's the current king of the second years, right?" A boy next to him replied, sounding both impressed and fearful at the same time.
'The king of the second years, huh? What the heck is that.' Lyrian thought to himself.
At that point, both Leon and Alten's attention were also caught on the boy who was walking closer to their table.
Lyrian continued to look at the boys. Everything seemed to be still except for them... until another boy suddenly appeared in the side of his vision.
The boy was Israthel, who stomped over to him with a furious expression on his face, his gaze locked on to none other than Lyrian, the boy who humiliated him.
However, what he didn't notice was that Draco and his group were slowly making their way up
the path that he was about to enter.
Draco conversed with his boys as he walked, joking and having fun when suddenly, he bumped into a kid in front of him, who happened to walk into his way.
The entire cafeteria let out a hushed gasp of astonishment as they witnessed this. Nothing in Draco's tray spilled, as it was a slight push. He stopped walking and was no longer laughing either, staring at the red and black-haired boy with a nonchalant expression.
Israthel also stopped, coming back to his senses as he slowly turned towards Draco with a horrified expression on his face.
"D-Draco... p-please forgive me."
Updated from fr𝒆ewebnov𝒆l.(c)om