The days at Aetheron Academy began to settle into a strange but steady rhythm for Will Harlan.
Every morning he woke before dawn, made his way to the Grand Cafeteria, and lost himself in the familiar motions of chopping, stirring, and seasoning. The Simple Apron had become like a second skin, stained with oil and spices that no amount of washing could completely remove. The Inherited Kitchen Knife felt like an extension of his hand, flashing with precise, almost meditative cuts. And the Mother's Worn Pot sat faithfully on its shelf, its rim now carrying a constant, soft silver-gray glow that seemed to brighten whenever Einsfel was near.
The students' whispers had not stopped.
In fact, they had grown louder.
"Did you hear? The cook took down Shadow Lurkers with dumplings yesterday."
"I saw it. They literally inflated and popped like balloons. It was hilarious."
"He's not even a real student. Just some auxiliary chef who got lucky in the entrance exam."
"Still… Einsfel keeps going to his counter every day. What's that about?"
Will heard every word, but he kept his head down and continued working. He had learned quickly that reacting only made things worse. Instead, he focused on what he could control — making the food a little better, a little more helpful, even if no one realized it.
During the mid-morning lull, Einsfel appeared at the counter again.
She looked as elegant as ever in her deep blue and gold-trimmed uniform, but there was a subtle tiredness in her eyes. Morning theory classes had clearly been intense.
"The usual, please," she said with a small smile.
Will prepared her bowl with extra care — Spicy Power Soup with a generous portion of Focus Herb Salad on the side. He made sure the spice level was perfect, warm enough to comfort but not so strong that it would agitate her magic.
When he handed it to her, their fingers brushed. The Mother's Worn Pot behind him flickered with a brighter silver-gray light.
Einsfel took a spoonful and closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the taste. The faint blue glow of her magic visibly stabilized, the restless energy that had been building since morning finally easing.
She let out a soft sigh of relief.
"It's exactly what I needed," she murmured. "Thank you, Will."
A group of students at a nearby table noticed the interaction and started whispering again.
"Look at that. She's always coming to him."
"Do you think they're actually… you know?"
Einsfel ignored them completely. She took another bite, then leaned slightly closer to the counter while pretending to adjust her grip on the bowl.
"After your shift," she whispered, voice warm and full of quiet promise, "meet me at the usual spot. I want to spend some time with you. Just us."
Will's heart quickened. He nodded, trying to keep his expression neutral. "I'll be there."
Einsfel gave him one last soft look before walking away with her bowl, her posture graceful and composed despite the whispers following her.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of serving and chopping. Will kept working steadily, but his mind kept drifting to the promised meeting later.
Then, during the lunch rush, the whispers turned into something more direct.
Cyrus Vaughn entered the cafeteria with his usual group of followers. His golden hair was perfectly styled, and his robe bore the elite crest. He scanned the room until his eyes landed on Will.
He walked straight to the counter, a cold smile on his face.
"Soup boy," he said loudly enough for half the cafeteria to hear. "I heard you had quite the performance yesterday with those Shadow Lurkers. Using food as a weapon… how creative. Tell me, do you plan to season your way through every exam, or are you just hoping to impress your little border-town friend?"
His followers laughed.
Will kept his hands busy, stirring a large pot of porridge.
"I'm just doing my job," he replied calmly.
Cyrus leaned forward, lowering his voice but not enough to hide his words.
"Your 'job' is to stay in your place. This academy is for those with real power. Not for peasants who think throwing spices around makes them special. Einsfel deserves better than a kitchen pet following her around like a lost dog."
The words stung.
Before Will could respond, Einsfel appeared beside the counter again. She had clearly heard everything.
She set her empty bowl down and looked at Cyrus with calm, steady eyes.
"Cyrus," she said, her voice clear and carrying across the room, "if you spent half as much time improving your own mana control as you do insulting others, perhaps you wouldn't feel so threatened by someone who actually contributes."
Cyrus's smile froze.
Einsfel continued, her tone gentle but firm. "Will may not use spells, but he has already proven he can be useful in ways you can't. Or have you forgotten how he helped stabilize the situation yesterday while you were nowhere to be seen?"
The cafeteria went quiet.
Cyrus stared at her for a long moment, his face tight with barely contained anger. Then he forced a smile.
"You defend him quite passionately," he said coldly. "I wonder how long that loyalty will last when he inevitably drags you down."
He turned and left with his group, the tension in the air slowly dissipating.
Einsfel looked at Will, her expression softening.
"Are you okay?" she asked quietly.
Will nodded. "I'm fine. Thank you for standing up for me."
She gave him a small, warm smile. "I always will."
As the lunch rush continued, Will kept working, but something inside him had shifted. The mockery still hurt, but Einsfel's words — and her unwavering support — made it easier to bear.
Later that afternoon, during his short break, Will slipped away to the quiet spot behind the eastern greenhouse.
Einsfel was already waiting.
The moment she saw him, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close without a word. Will hugged her back, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair.
"I hate that they talk to you like that," she whispered against his chest. "You're doing so much more than they realize."
Will stroked her hair gently.
"It's okay," he said. "As long as you're here, I can handle it."
Einsfel pulled back just enough to look at him. Her blue eyes were soft but determined.
"Then let me remind you why you're here," she whispered.
She leaned in and kissed him — slow, deep, and full of quiet reassurance. Her hands slid under his shirt, tracing the lines of his chest as the kiss grew warmer.
In the secluded greenhouse, surrounded by glowing mana flowers, the two of them found another moment of peace.
A moment that belonged only to them.
And as the sun began to set, the faint silver-gray light on the Mother's Worn Pot continued to glow — a silent promise that their bond was growing stronger with every shared day, every shared meal, and every shared touch.