NOVEL NEXT Chapter 42: The Restaurant Rendezvous
"Damn it, Tracy, where have you been?" a voice called out as Tracy glided into the restaurant, her eyes immediately finding the familiar faces gathered around a large circular table with ten seats.
Leon sat beside what was obviously her reserved chair, his expression a masterclass in barely contained irritation. He glanced at her once, let out an audible scoff, then pointedly looked away like a sulking child. 'This jealous idiot almost spoiled my chances with Asher with his stupid tantrum. I'll make sure he learns his place,' she thought, maintaining her usual serene smile while plotting his social demise.
Of course, she was well aware that both Leon and Andrew harbored hopeless crushes on her. It wasn't exactly surprising—she'd always been acutely aware of her effect on people. The lingering looks, the constant glances, the way they'd practically trip over themselves to help her with the simplest tasks. She could read romantic interest like an open book, which made it all the more amusing when they thought they were being subtle.
Yet despite having a collection of admirers that would make most girls envious, she'd never felt particularly interested in any of them. Sure, she wanted a relationship like most of her friends, but she wasn't desperate enough to settle. Her mother's words had always echoed in her mind: 'It takes just a glance to know the right one.' She'd never understood that cryptic advice until today, when she'd met those striking eyes in the infirmary.
"I was busy," she replied smoothly to Castor, who was practically radiating annoyance at her tardiness and blasé attitude.
Well, it wasn't exactly new behavior. She'd always been this way—fashionably late and unapologetically casual about it. But her occasionally irritating personality aside, she was undeniably competent. Her blessing and spellcasting abilities were no joke, which was precisely why she maintained her elite ranking despite her attitude.
"Fine," Castor muttered, clearly not caring enough to push the issue. His mind was already elsewhere, focused on tomorrow's crucial test. The reshuffle examination would determine new team compositions, breaking up groups that had been together since first year. It was a pivotal moment—perform poorly, and you'd end up saddled with incompetent teammates.
The only reason he'd maintained his elite status was because of his generally competent team members. Well, most of them anyway. Leon was decent enough in combat, certainly better than Azalea had been. Poor Azalea couldn't even use ether properly! His only saving grace had been his exceptional intelligence, which he'd utilized quite effectively during his time as a group member before everything went sideways.
It was that intelligence, coupled with their exceptional team coordination, that had kept them in the elite rankings since first year. Everyone at this table was elite-ranked, but that would likely change after the reshuffle if he ended up with a team of incompetents.
"Let's begin," he said, turning his attention to the girl with ash-colored hair and matching eyes seated across from him. She wore an enigmatic smile, her team members sitting quietly behind her like well-trained sentinels. They all seemed more coordinated than usual, which was somehow more unnerving than if they'd been chaotic.
"Why the rush?" she asked with casual authority. "Why don't we order something first?" She gestured toward a passing waiter, and her members immediately began placing orders with the kind of synchronized efficiency that suggested this wasn't their first clandestine meeting.
They were all too calm, too composed. It set his teeth on edge.
"Sure," Castor nodded reluctantly, but before he could give his own team permission to order, he noticed Tracy was already halfway through what appeared to be a rather elaborate pastry.
"When did you—?" he asked, voicing the same question that was clearly on Andrew's mind.
"What?" Tracy looked at them with raised eyebrows, as if she hadn't just completely disregarded her team leader's authority. The picture of innocent confusion was almost artistic in its execution.
'This girl...' Castor sighed internally. Why was he even getting annoyed? This was typical Tracy behavior.
"Why are you all looking at me like that?" she continued, gesturing with her fork toward the newest member of their group. "Look, I'm not the only one."
She pointed at a girl with hazy brown hair and light green eyes whose cheeks were currently puffed out like a chipmunk's. The girl froze mid-chew, looking like a deer caught in headlights. When she realized what had happened, she turned to Tracy with a look of absolute betrayal.
"Traitor," she mumbled through her mouthful of food. She was the one who had smuggled the 'goods' to Tracy, and now the girl was throwing her under the bus without a moment's hesitation!
"Mm," Tracy shrugged with magnificent indifference and continued eating, as if public betrayal was just another Tuesday for her.
The rest of the team exchanged glances and began ordering their own meals. They'd all missed dinner at the cafeteria while traveling here, so it wasn't entirely unreasonable. Still, their leader's twitching eye suggested he was reaching his limit for the evening.
"Now then," the ash-haired girl said as the waiter disappeared to fulfill their orders, "let's begin the transaction."
She reached into her spatial ring and produced an orb that seemed to pulse with its own inner light. In response, Andrew glanced at Castor for approval, received a subtle nod, and hefted a substantial briefcase onto the table.
Meanwhile, across the city...
"Here?" Asher asked, staring dubiously at the weathered sign of what could generously be called a 'modest establishment.'
It certainly wasn't the extravagant venue one might expect when dining with a noble lady. The building looked average at best, with peeling paint and windows that had seen better decades. But then again, they'd ventured pretty deep into Elfame, into the less developed districts where gentrification hadn't yet reached its manicured fingers.
"Yes, this is it," Jenny said with the kind of sage nod usually reserved for profound wisdom. "Don't judge it just yet. They serve really great food—both my friend and I always come here when we want something authentic."
She paused dramatically, as if she were about to deliver the secret to eternal happiness. "Don't judge a book by its cover, you know."
"Okay," Asher nodded, because really, what else could he do? Besides, she was the one paying.