Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest

Chapter 662 145.4 - Amberheart Mansion

They strolled quietly for a bit, the garden's calm vibes making things feel easy between them. It was kind of weird but also natural to hang out here with him, especially compared to their usual intense chats.

But as much as she enjoyed the moment, Irina knew it wouldn't last long. Turning to Astron, she crossed her arms, her tone shifting to something more serious. "Alright," she said, her gaze direct. "Now that you've seen my world, it's time to get you prepared."

Astron raised an eyebrow, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "Prepared for…?"

"For meeting my mother," she replied firmly. "A dinner like this isn't just about etiquette. There are unspoken expectations. Subtle cues. I want you to be ready for what she'll expect and how she'll judge."

Irina watched him carefully, noting the thoughtful expression that crossed his face. Astron was quick to learn, especially when it came to dexterity and precision. His focus had always been more on agility and control rather than sheer strength, a trait that would work in his favor tonight. Dexterity was, after all, just as essential for mastering etiquette as it was for combat, and if anyone could handle the subtle intricacies of noble manners, it would be him.

"Hmm…" he murmured, considering her words.

She allowed herself a small smile, feeling a sense of satisfaction. He'd pick this up quickly; she was sure of it. And, if she was honest, the prospect of guiding him through these traditions and being closer to him—even if only under the excuse of teaching him—wasn't entirely unwelcome. Cough…..it was rather something that she was looking forward to. After all, it wasn't every day she had him here, in her world, and if it meant a few extra moments, well… that wasn't too much to ask, right?

"Don't worry," she said, a hint of playfulness in her tone as she took a step closer, reaching out to adjust the collar of his shirt as though fine-tuning his appearance for the occasion. "With a bit of guidance, you'll be more than capable of handling my mother's scrutiny."

"I am not worrying about anything." He said. But, he still raised an eyebrow, glancing down at her hand, though he didn't move away. "You're that confident?"

"Of course," she replied smoothly, her fingers lingering a second longer than necessary. "Just follow my lead."

"Is that so?" Astron replied. "Then…..go ahead." Irina smiled, pleased by his response, and gestured for him to follow her back toward her quarters. "Alright then," she said, her voice carrying a note of confidence. "Let's make sure you're more than prepared."

They walked through the garden, returning to the quiet seclusion of her building. While Astron was observant and picked up quickly, she knew that giving him a proper demonstration would be far more effective than simply explaining the rules. And to her, there was no better way to show him than setting up a real practice table and utilizing the hologram simulation available in her quarters. After all, if her mother's plan was to evaluate him over dinner, then dinner etiquette was just as important as his responses.

As they entered her building, Irina led him towards her computer room. She tapped a panel on the wall, activating the room's hologram simulation system, and in an instant, a modest dining area, complete with a long table and elegant chairs appeared as a hologram. In the hologram, a scene of a formal dinner unfolded, with elegantly dressed figures seated around a long table, each movement calculated and refined. The guests dined with precision, every gesture smooth and restrained, from the delicate handling of silverware to the graceful sipping of wine. It was an ideal, educational setup for a beginner, the perfect way for Astron to observe the nuances of noble etiquette in action.

Irina crossed her arms, watching him as he took in the scene. "Watch their movements carefully," she instructed, her voice steady but encouraging. "Each gesture has a purpose, and timing is everything."

Astron's gaze remained focused, absorbing the movements of the holographic diners with that same calm attentiveness he applied to everything he learned. His eyes tracked the positioning of the cutlery, the way each guest delicately dabbed their mouths with napkins, even the subtle nods and glances exchanged among them. It was clear he was studying each detail, committing it to memory.

Once the demonstration ended, Irina led him toward her kitchen area, where a small dining table stood waiting. Unlike the hologram's grandeur, it was a simpler setup, yet it would be effective for practice. She laid out the silverware, glassware, and plates, mimicking the arrangement they would see later at dinner.

"Alright," she said, gesturing to the table. "Go ahead." Astron took a seat, his calm demeanor unwavering as she began explaining each element. She went through the placement of utensils, the delicate folding of the napkin, and the precise way to hold the glasses. And though she expected him to need a few adjustments, he surprised her by mastering each step with ease, mimicking the grace of the holographic diners as if it were second nature.

'Why am I even surprised.....'

She asked herself. For this guy, something like that must have been as easy as breathing, though she wasn't without a hint of frustration. She'd hoped he'd make a few mistakes—just enough for her to swoop in with guidance and gain a bit of an upper hand.

But she wasn't about to let this opportunity slip away completely.

Clearing her throat, she leaned closer, her gaze critical as she inspected his hand positioning. "Your grip on the glass," she said, reaching forward to adjust his fingers. "It's close, but not quite perfect. The angle matters."

Astron raised an eyebrow, a glimmer of amusement flashing in his eyes, but he allowed her to reposition his hand without comment. Satisfied, she moved to his silverware, her fingers lightly touching his wrist as she angled it slightly. "Here, too. The way you hold the knife," she murmured, leaning in closer than necessary. "It has to be precise."

She felt his gaze on her, and for a moment, her composure nearly faltered under his silent scrutiny. He hadn't made a single error—she knew it, and so did he. But he allowed her to make her adjustments, following each minor correction with an expression that was calm, yet held a faint trace of amusement.

Finally, she stepped back, folding her arms with a satisfied air, though his mouth was curled up a little. "So," he said, his voice soft but edged with humor, "is there anything else I'm 'getting wrong'?"

She huffed, feeling a faint flush rise to her cheeks. "I'm just making sure you're prepared," she replied smoothly. "It's a high-stakes dinner, after all."

"Of course," he said, his tone completely serious, though his eyes betrayed him. "I appreciate the… thorough instruction."

Irina took a steady breath, pushing past the faint blush she felt from his teasing as she continued her "instruction." The next part was equally important: timing in conversation—knowing when to speak and when to listen, the subtle rhythm of polite pauses, and how to navigate a formal dinner without appearing too eager or, worse, uncivilized.

"Now," she said, her tone a touch more serious, though she couldn't resist the occasional playful glance his way, "when it comes to conversation, timing is key. You'll need to listen attentively, show you're interested, and only speak when it's appropriate." She demonstrated, holding a calm, polite gaze and nodding slightly as though following an invisible conversation. "If there's a pause, don't rush to fill it. Keep a natural rhythm, like this."

Astron mimicked her movements perfectly, his posture and expressions just as she'd shown him. His attentive expression, that composed poise—it was nearly flawless. Irina struggled to find any excuse to correct him. The way he carried himself was graceful, and his demeanor was almost effortlessly refined, leaving her little to critique.

And that was normal. While Astron did not show it outside, he had practiced how to control his mimics, gestures, and every part of his body countless times before, so that he could mask his intentions and everything.

With [Perceptive Insight] he was able to grasp it rather fast, and he had already mastered it when he was at the academy. However, Irina still did not care. Not willing to let him off that easily, she leaned in, eyes narrowing with a mock-critical gaze. "And when someone raises a point, make sure you react accordingly," she said, touching his arm lightly as though making a point. "A subtle nod, a thoughtful glance. Show engagement without overdoing it."

Astron's eyes flickered with that same faint amusement, but he nodded, following her instructions. And well…... She couldn't help but feel a thrill at having his attention. 'This bastard's face is really deadly now.'

As the lesson continued, a thought crossed her mind, her gaze lingering on him as she weighed her options. She'd considered testing him in dance, to see how he handled the coordination and poise required. But she reminded herself this wasn't a banquet—they were preparing for a formal dinner, and introducing a dance would certainly be going overboard.

Still, her curiosity got the better of her. She held back a mischievous smile, simply observing him as he continued practicing with the same poise and focus. Perhaps another time she'd bring it up; for now, she decided to enjoy these moments.

It was not like she did not have the following one week to herself after all….

******

As the evening approached, Irina stood in front of the mirror in her quarters, adjusting the final details of her attire, ensuring every element was flawless. Her reflection showed composure, and elegance—a perfect Emberheart heir ready to face the high-stakes dinner with her mother. Yet, as she turned to Astron, waiting near the door, she felt a flicker of nerves she hadn't anticipated.

Dressed in formal attire that somehow managed to enhance his already striking appearance, Astron looked entirely at ease, his calm demeanor adding to the natural confidence he carried. His presence was a reminder of the countless hours she'd spent preparing him for this, yet now, right before the moment of truth, she felt a small knot of anxiety tighten within her.

"Ready?" she asked, her voice steady, though her gaze betrayed a touch of uncertainty. She wasn't worried about his etiquette or performance—he had mastered everything she'd taught him. Still, the prospect of this dinner and all it represented weighed heavily on her mind.

"Ready." Then, she led him to the dining room.