The next morning, we sat around a table so long it felt like it needed its own minimap.
Polished dark wood.
Gold-lined plates.
Steam rising from dishes that looked illegal to eat without paying taxes first.
Meat glazed in sauces I didn't recognize. Bread that looked like it had lived a better life than me. Fruits sliced so perfectly they were probably judged by a committee.
My eyes widened. My mouth watered.
Oh. So this is what nobility eats while I've been gnawing on ration bread like a feral raccoon.
First noble meal since I arrived in Zethara.
And no, I'm not crying. But all I did was grind.
My life lately had been grind, grind, grind like the game personally owed me child support in EXP.
I picked up my fork with reverence.
"If I cry into the food, does that count as seasoning?" I muttered.
Kael snorted. "Try not to embarrass yourself in front of the City Lord."
"I make no promises."
Zeref leaned back in his chair, casually stealing a strip of meat from my plate.
