On the ground floor, inside the bustling cafeteria, many Espers and Guides sat around long square tables, chatting and eating, while others stood in two lines at the counter to get their food. The air was filled with the aroma of freshly cooked meals and the soft echo of footsteps.
Amidst the crowd, Zephyr stumbled as someone abruptly bumped into his body.
The half-filled plate of food he had just received after displaying his gold-bronze badge—proof of his official affiliation with the Association—nearly slipped from his hands, but he managed to catch it in time.
His brows furrowed slightly as he tried to understand who would bump into him so carelessly, despite clearly seeing that he was using a cane to find his way, only to hear a familiar, cold, mocking snicker.
It was Eleven—the same man who had barge into his room last night uninvited.
Zephyr pursed his lips, annoyed, but he stayed quiet and restrained his irritation.
He ignored the man who had deliberately bumped into him to get back at him, then turned to find a quiet place to sit and eat.
He could feel many eyes on him. Although no one approached him—especially after he had indifferently turned down a few Guides who had offered to help him get breakfast.
Yet, unlike Zephyr's calm demeanor, his silence and ignoring only further infuriated the man who had bumped into him. A vein throbbed on Eleven's forehead. He stepped forward, his voice dripping with contempt.
"Blind as you are, and now you can't even walk straight? Bumping into people like a fool. I don't even know which idiot let this trash in here. The Association isn't some nursing home for every kind of disabled!"
Everyone who heard his words winced at their brutality, feeling a pang of sympathy for the person at the receiving end. It was obvious to all present that Eleven was the one who had bumped into him, yet no one dared to interfere—they simply watched.
Even the few who wanted to step in held back, well aware of Eleven and his brother's massive influence within the Association.
They were both S-rank—very important to the Association. A newly awakened B-rank blind Esper was far inferior to two S-ranks.
But, unexpectedly, to everyone's surprise, Zephyr didn't react at all. He had heard far worse in his life and had long grown numb to such words. Moreover, he firmly believed that responding to such people would only ruin his breakfast. He found an empty chair and sat down under many watchful eyes.
His ears twitched as he heard the people already seated at the table he sat down at immediately stand up to leave, but he paid them no mind and quietly began to eat, his movements calm as he picked up the fork.
Eleven's expression darkened when his insult was met with indifferent silence. He gritted his teeth, fury flashing in his eyes.
"You… very well! You asked for this!"
He spat, his tone sharp, and rushed toward Zephyr, his hand reaching for his breakfast—clearly intending to throw the food away.
In his haste, Eleven failed to notice how the man's long, slender fingers subtly tightened around the fork in his hand, its steady angle shifting ever so slightly. If only he knew that there was an unspoken rumor in the prison where Zephyr had lived: one should stay far, far away from this man during mealtimes.
It was because, after enduring suffering again and again with no one to turn to, he had learned to turn almost anything into a weapon. Though only a few knew—such as the old head guard of the prison, who kept the matter under wraps to avoid trouble—Zephyr was the reason all sharp objects, even plates with pointed edges, had been banned from the prison dining halls.
And that head guard, along with everyone else who had known about it, had perished during the dungeon break. Now, none of the onlookers realized that, in Zephyr's mind, he had long since plunged the fork he held into the hand reaching for his breakfast plate.
He was not afraid of the punishment.
Not even the least bit.
After all, he had been offended first.
It's just...
He hoped Lucien wouldn't find out about this—about the ruthless part of himself he had kept hidden since their first meeting.
But just as Zephyr was about to act on his thoughts, his mana spreading in the air as he followed every movement of Eleven—who was about to toss his breakfast—a crisp voice rang out across the cafeteria.
"What's going on here?"
Both Eleven and Zephyr froze.
For different reasons.
Eleven was stunned to hear the voice of a famous Esper in City M, while Zephyr was frozen upon hearing that familiar female voice he hadn't heard in eight long years.
He almost blurted out.
'Elder Sister...'
But he swallowed the words, forcing them down as he remembered his position—the painful truth that he was no longer part of the family he had once called his own. Still, he couldn't help but think how ironic it was that he still recognized her voice—and what a coincidence to encounter her so easily.
The fork in Zephyr's hand bent under the pressure of his grip. He lowered his head, strands of silver hair falling to frame his forehead, as the owner of the voice came closer, speaking to Eleven amusedly.
"Eleven, so you are bullying others again? Does your older brother know about this?"