The dining hall at noon had the specific quality of an institution returning to its rhythms after something had disrupted them.
The disruption was a day-old now. The colosseum, the flash, the dust where the glass had been—these had passed through people's conversation the way significant events passed through institutions: loudly at first, then at a reduced volume, then as background assumption that shaped behavior without being named.
Students who passed Isaac in the corridors between the higher class chamber and the dining hall looked at him in a variety of expressions.
Ignoring them, Isaac walked through it at his natural pace.
His thought was lingering upon the lecture that professor Maren provided. In particular, the tournament in six months.
The second-year and third-year higher class students will participate, she said.
If so, there was one profile that he had to remember: Aldric Zephyr, rank 1 of the third-year. He had S-rank: [Tempest], and was the same man who jumped from the balcony and approached him before.
Logically speaking, would winning the tournament be worth it?
Currently, he was leaning toward no.
This tournament is, as professor Maren said, public. Even the Solari Empire will have their eyes on the event.
He thought that the kingdom's decision to proceed with this tournament was irrational. However, there was more to politics than logics. To the kingdom, this tournament was about sending a message.
Nevertheless, if there is no particular disadvantage in getting eliminated within the tournament…
Isaac found no point of winning. He would purposely lose. Give people an impression that his victory against Silas was a fluke. He believed that this would diminish some degree of interest in him.
Now, entering the dining hall, he grabbed a plate of food and found the usual table. Elara was already there.
She looked up when he sat, unsurprised as if having expected him.
"How was it?" she asked, "The higher class."
"Informative."
"Master Maren Solke. I heard that she is in charge of our year's higher class."
"Yes."
"And the—" she looked around the dining hall and lowered her voice, "—the other thing. Silas."
"He's mellowed. For now."
Elara processed this. She picked up her fork. Then set it down again, having remembered something she was going to say.
"You know, Isaac, the students in the other classes have been talking about whether the fight was planned theatrics, whether it was manipulated or not."
Isaac chuckled, finding the information rather amusing. "Theatrics that work against the Fulgur house, which harbors two S-rank skill users?"
"I know. It's ridiculous. But that's just how unbelievable the outcome was." Elara paused. "I mean, it's [Condensation] that we are talking about in here. Against [Lightning Spear]. No one would've believed if someone said that an A-rank skill won against a S-rank skill, and everyone witnessed something even more absurd."
The dining hall was bustly as ever, continuing around them. It was the ordinary midday noise of an Academy that had processed a significant event and was finding its way back to its usual norms.
"…So, I wanted to ask—" Elara, after the brief silence, asked, "are you fine?"
"What do you mean by that?" Said Isaac, out of genuine inquiry.
"As in, many things happened. Everyone is talking about you. There is bound to be pressure and all that, and I just wanted to… make sure that you are feeling alright about those… words about you."
Isaac lowered his fork.
He remembered his days. The nights in solitude where his hands trembled. The restless nights full of effort.
Those tensions still existed today. However, the reason for those tensions weren't because of the stares. It was because of the real circumstances that he needed to resolve.
Rather, because his mind was occupied with them, there mere stares and rumors didn't mean anything to him.
"I am fine. I really am." Therefore, he answered directly. He didn't wish to appear cynical. "Thank you for asking."
Elara looked at him for a while. In the end, she nodded, "…If you say so."
The conversation settled. With nothing left to drag on the talk, they continued their lunch in silence.
Then, a voice interrupted them.
"May we?"
Cassiopeia was at the table's edge with her notebook held between her arm and body, and her tray in both hands.
Beside her, there was Marlene. She stood with a rigid awareness of someone who knew that they were being observed by the students around them. That's what it meant to approach the current hot topic of the entire academy.
Isaac looked at Marlene. Averting her eyes, she mumbled, "…We meet again. If you don't remember, I am Marlene."
"I remember you," said Isaac.
Elara looked at Cassiopeia. At Marlene. At Isaac.
"Go ahead. The table isn't owned by us," breaking the trance, Isaac then suggested.
This set Cassiopeia in motion, who set her tray down across from him with the ease of someone who had made a decision before asking and was executing it.
Marlene followed suit, more carefully.
"The hall is interesting today," Cassiopeia then said, not looking up from her notebook which had opened on the table's edge. "I am not the type to eavesdrop on others, but when the same phrase is repetitively spoken from everyone, you end up picking it up whether you like it or not."
"I noticed," Elara said.
"Personally, I find this development rather interesting." Cassiopeia's pen moved. "There have already been many attempts from other students, with the same [Condensation], to recreate your feats." She looked up briefly. "Apparently, no one managed to do the same."
"Not just [Condensation]." Marlene muttered. "Everyone witnessed a new possibility. They've been exploring and found none." She stared at her palm with grimace.
Isaac noticed this, but decided not to pursue the topic.
"Of course, theoretical comprehension doesn't mean mastery," Cassiopeia then spoke, unaware of Marlene's demeanor. She was looking at Isaac. "If such scale of operation could be achieved with [Condensation], there wouldn't have been a culture shock of this extent."
Isaac said nothing. The conversation went on as Elara decided to put in a few words, which effectively managed to improve Marlene's mood.
He slowly ate the remainder of his lunch as the conversation resumed around him. The ongoing conversation was mostly between Elara and Marlene, with Cassiopeia adding in a few cents in-between.
Then, the conversation stopped. Judging by how a shadow loomed over his form, Isaac knew that someone, a newcomer, was standing in front of him.
He looked up and for the woman—the one whom Elara mentioned before.
He remembered her. Their eyes met a couple of times in the past. Although they never exchanged words before, he heard her name from the mouths of others.
Irine.
She stood, seemingly without a social awareness. As Elara, Cassiopeia, Marlene, and other students stare at her, her eyes were headed strictly at Isaac.
Even now, her beauty stood, and it was further amplified through the effect of her known skill, D-rank: [Glamour]. Such was the biggest reason why there were many staring at her; wherever she went, the eyes followed.
Upon closer inspection, Isaac could tell the subtle mechanism of [Glamour]. It worked in the background as a passive skill. The atmosphere around her was enriched with mana that induced subtle modifications in how she outwardly appeared.
"Isaac." Then, she blatantly spoke. "That is your name."
Elara's expression did something careful. Marlene's mouth curved at the edges—not mockery, but the involuntary response of someone finding an unexpected register genuinely surprising. Cassiopeia looked up from her notebook with the attentiveness of someone cataloguing a new variable.
Everything about her was unusual. Much different from others. In a way, she was unpredictable. This made her mysterious. Coupled with [Glamour], she was what others would call an unapproachable beauty.
"Yes," that was all he said in response.
Once again, his eyes met hers. There was a slight shift in her expression, as if she managed to confirm something.
"…You are different. In many ways." She spoke.
"I can say the same about you."
She stood still, still staring at him.
"I am Irine."
Eventually, she turned and left, just as abruptly as when she came.
The table was still silent after she left. Then,
"Irine," Elara said, quietly, "What's she got to do with you? Do you know her?"
"No," Replied Isaac, as he finished the last bit of his food.
How peculiar, he thought.