Jelo turned to Atlas, jerking his head toward the door. Atlas needed meat besides, Jelo hadn't fulfilled his daily requirement yet either. The tension was visible in the set of his roommate's shoulders, the way his fingers curled and uncurled at his sides. They couldn't let it go much longer.

They stepped into the hallway together, and Ken appeared almost immediately outside their door, as if he'd been waiting for them. He asked where they were headed, his tone casual but curious. Jelo told him they were going to the cafeteria for food, and Ken fell into step beside them without hesitation, apparently deciding to join them for the meal.

The three of them made their way through the academy corridors. Other students passed them in small groups, their conversations creating a constant murmur that echoed off the stone walls. The path to the cafeteria took them down a wide staircase and through one of the main hallways, where evening light filtered through tall windows, casting long shadows across the floor.

When they reached the cafeteria, the large dining hall stretched before them with its high ceilings and rows of long wooden tables. Students were scattered throughout the space, some eating in animated groups while others sat quietly over their meals. The smell of cooked food filled the air—bread, roasted vegetables, and most importantly, meat.

Jelo went directly to the counter without pausing. He ordered several portions of meat, watching as the server piled the plates high with thick cuts of cooked flesh. The portions were generous, more than what a typical student would order for a single meal, but the server didn't question it. Jelo paid and carried the tray carefully, balancing the weight as he turned back toward the tables.

Atlas didn't wait for pleasantries or for them to find the perfect spot. He sat down immediately at the nearest available table, his movements sharp and purposeful. The moment Jelo set the tray down in front of him, Atlas grabbed a portion and started eating. His movements were fast, almost impatient, driven by a need that went beyond simple hunger. He tore into the meat with barely contained urgency, his focus entirely on the food before him.

Jelo settled into the seat across from him and began eating as well, though at a more measured pace. He watched Atlas from the corner of his eye, noting how the desperate edge in his friend's movements gradually began to ease as he consumed the meat. It would always be like this when Atlas waited too long—the need would become something sharp and consuming, something that couldn't be ignored or delayed.

Ken sat beside them, apparently unbothered by Atlas's intensity. He ate his own meal and made occasional comments. The background noise of the cafeteria continued around them—the clatter of utensils, fragments of conversation, the scrape of chairs against the floor.

A few minutes later, Mira arrived. She spotted them across the cafeteria and made her way over, sliding into the seat next to Jelo with her usual bright energy. She greeted them cheerfully and launched into a story about something that had happened in the female dorms

Atlas's response was short, his tone noticeably cold. He didn't look up from his food, and his words were clipped, carrying an edge that was impossible to miss. Jelo caught it immediately—the deliberate distance, the frost in Atlas's voice that he reserved for when he wanted someone to know they weren't welcome.

Mira, however, seemed oblivious. She continued chatting, moving from one topic to another with barely a pause. She talked about an upcoming assignment, about something amusing one of the instructors had said, about plans for the weekend. Her enthusiasm never wavered, even as Atlas gave her nothing but cold, minimal responses.

Ken showed similar disinterest, though his was less pointed than Atlas's. He simply didn't engage much, offering the occasional grunt or nod while focusing on his food. His attention drifted around the cafeteria, watching other students, clearly present in body but not particularly invested in the conversation.

Jelo found himself wondering how long Atlas would keep this up. The coldness toward Mira had been going on for days now, ever since their return from the Forbidden City. Whatever had happened between them—or whatever Atlas thought had happened—had created a rift that Mira seemed completely unaware of. She just kept talking, kept trying to engage, kept being herself without any apparent recognition that Atlas was freezing her out.

He ate slowly, watching the dynamic play out across the table. Mira's cheerful obliviousness, Atlas's deliberate coldness, Ken's passive disengagement. It created an odd atmosphere, one that felt unbalanced and slightly uncomfortable, though Mira herself appeared not to notice anything wrong.

They finished their meals with Mira still chatting away, filling the silence that the others left open. Eventually, they cleared their trays and went their separate ways, Mira waving goodbye with the same brightness she'd brought to the table.

xxxx

Later that evening, Jelo walked through the halls alone. Most students had retired to their rooms or gathered in common areas, leaving the corridors relatively quiet. His footsteps echoed softly as he made his way toward his destination, his mind still turning over the scene from dinner.

He turned a corner and nearly collided with Master Olmo.

The instructor stood in the middle of the hallway, his posture straight and his expression unreadable. It wasn't a chance encounter—Jelo could tell that immediately from the way Olmo looked at him, as if he'd been waiting.

Without a word, Olmo gestured for Jelo to follow him. There was no room for refusal in the gesture, no suggestion that this was optional. Jelo fell into step behind him, his stomach tightening with apprehension.

Olmo led him to an empty classroom, opening the door and stepping inside. Jelo followed, and the door closed behind them with a soft click that seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet space. The classroom was dimly lit, with only a few light crystals providing illumination. Desks sat in neat rows, and the chalkboard at the front still bore faint marks from earlier lessons.

Olmo turned to face him, his expression serious and unwavering.

"What are you?"

The question landed like a stone dropped into still water. Jelostayed silent. His mind raced, trying to calculate how much Olmo knew, how much he suspected, what the safest response might be. But nothing came. He simply stood there, meeting Olmo's gaze without speaking.

"I know you're not human," Olmo continued, his tone matter-of-fact. The words hung in the air between them, undeniable and heavy. "I considered the possibility that you might be an ihe, but..." He paused, studying Jelo's face. "You fought an ihe to protect your friends. No ihe would do that."

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken implications.

"So I'll ask you again, who are you?"

Jelo swallowed. "I'm human sir, as human as anyone."

Olmo eyed him skeptically. "why were you in the Forbidden City?"

Jelo's jaw tightened. The truth sat on his tongue, dangerous but undeniable. There was no point in lying now, not when Olmo already knew he wasn't human.

"I need dabba heart," he said quietly. "To eat. Without it, I risk losing control."

Olmo sighed, a long exhale that seemed to carry both resignation and understanding. He studied Jelo for a moment longer, then gave a slight nod.

"Your secret is safe with me," he said, "as long as you cause no trouble. But if you harm a single student in here, I promise you, you'd be dead before you can say 'jack'."

Olmo then paused. "Also next time you need dabba, you come to me. Understood?"

Jelo nodded, accepting the terms not like he had any choice.

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